He now understood why Daniel Olivetti went through extreme measures to protect Tom. He understood why Don Cruccifixo betrayed him. He understood why little Pablo (Tom), was kidnapped rather than killed. He understood why the secrets of Tom’s biological father and mother were kept safely for more than ten years. He tried to imagine a life with Tom as a Sanchez. Would he have figured out Tom’s special abilities? The Cartels would have been formidable with Tom at their side.
The phone rang. First ring. Second ring. Third ring. Then a dead dial tone. It was impossible. He was using a satellite phone. He punched the buttons excessively with his fingers, but the dead dial tone continued.
“Don’t bother! It’s useless!” a voice said from behind him. A chill ran through Don Sanchez’s spine as he turned towards the voice. It was Tom. How did he get there? His eyes had been fixed on the only road to his safe house and there was no other car parked in front. He was surprised to see Tom alive and well. He was untouched by the fire, explosions and bullets.
“W-w-what did you do to them? H- How are you here? H-how did you get here without a car?” he asked in a complete state of fear. He couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t gather enough courage to reach for his double barreled gun. His hands could no longer hold his satellite phone. It dropped.
Tom sighed. “Relax!” Tom commanded. Immediately, as if he had taken two hundred pills of Xanax, his body felt relaxed and calm. He was no longer scared. It defied all logic. He was at peace. There was no sufficient explanation. Tom couldn’t have arrived at his location without a car. He gazed at his weapon then gazed at Tom.
“I’ll kill you before you attempt to touch the trigger. You should know better by now,” Tom said calmly then grinned. Don Sanchez returned a sneer.
“You can kill me, but you’ll always have to watch your back. My son will come for you. The Cartels will come for you and your family,”
Tom laughed. “After all you have seen today, you think I’m scared of your son, Julio? The era of the Cartels is over. No Cartel Boss exists anymore. Your friends are all dead and thanks to your dead President, I have access to your safe houses. By the time I’m back in America, they too will be dead,” Tom replied. Don Sanchez realized his folly.
“If I had gotten my memories back earlier, the death of my uncles would have been avoided,” Tom said in regret then sighed. The room was silent for a long while. Tom took his time to think as he gazed outside the window. Don Sanchez speechlessly watched Tom. He fantasized about grabbing the gun and shooting Tom, but he dared not. He hoped he would live to see another day.
“You killed the President of Mexico. If the Mexican authorities find out who did it, there will be war – a World War will definitely occur…” Don Sanchez said.
Tom sighed, but said nothing. “So you do know? Is that what you want? A war between our countries just because you foolishly killed the Mexican President?” Don Sanchez asked in astonishment.
“I killed a man who had deliberately caused terror to the world. Besides, your twin brother, Eduardo, killed JFK. There was no war. Someone else paid the price for a cause. Don’t you think I thought this through?” Tom replied.
“Bu-t…”
“Shut up! I’m thinking,” Tom replied as he continued to gaze outside the window. Don Sanchez never felt so insulted in his life, but reluctantly humbled himself, given the situation he was in.
Tom wasn’t thinking. He was getting as much information as he could from Don Sanchez’s memory; Cartel safe houses, drug locations, Swiss account numbers, money drops, foreign properties, past and future Cartel Operations – every knowledge he needed before killing the man that killed his uncles.
He then turned towards Don Sanchez. “I would have loved to torture you, but I have no time. I have to get back to New York as soon as possible,”
Surprised brushed to Don Sanchez’s face. “You’re not going to kill me?”
Tom grabbed the keys to Don Sanchez’s car. “No I’m not,” he replied. Don Sanchez gave out a heavy sigh of relief.
“T-thanks! I promise! I owe you and I owe your family. I’ll make it right! I’ll help with whatever you need! I promise not to come after you or any of your family members for as long as I live and I promise no one in my blood line will come after your family again! I’ll control the Cartels to your satisfaction! I’ll flee to Brazil, and you’ll never hear or see me in New York again,” Don Sanchez blurted out in false gratitude. Tom scoffed.
“If I was an ordinary human, I would have believed you,” Tom said as he pushed Don Sanchez to the wall. “I thou-thought you said you were not killing me,”
“No I’m not,” Tom said then looked straight into Don Sanchez’s eyes. Don Sanchez struggled not to look back, but he couldn’t help it. There was something inviting about looking into Tom’s eyes. A method he used to capture a person’s will and control their inner most thoughts – Paranormal hypnosis. “You will remain here for two days without eating. You will take your gun and walk to the United States/Mexico border. You will announce to everyone what you did to my family, you’ll then take your gun, put it in your mouth and shoot yourself,” Tom said in a gentle tone then left Don Sanchez alone in the house.
His vengeful needs had finally been satisfied.
31
September 20-22, 2001
Daniel Olivetti cried bitterly. He had his father’s Will of Testament in one hand and a cold glass of Scotch in the other hand. He had gone into hiding for nine days after ordering extra security detail for members of his family. He had then paid a visit to Cecilia Olivetti, his father’s wife, to deliver the sad news. It looked like she took it well. Although sad, she seemed unsurprised by the news. He remembered the look on her face. It was that of emptiness. He loved her like a mother. He knew how much Cecilia loved his father, Frederick. The two were inseparable when it came to matters of love. They always held the family together and she always stood by his father. It was all that mattered to him.
Now, his father was dead and his new responsibilities as family patriarch tripled after kidnapping Pablo Sanchez. In those nine short days, he had reestablished the family’s authority by calling members of all mob families in the United States. He wasn’t willing to take any chances. Despite the enmity between mob families in the United States, all United States citizens felt the need to stand together against any nation that may pose a threat, due to the 9/11 attack—It was the only reason why Daniel Olivetti could rally all mob families in the United States against the Mexican Drug Cartel. Everyone suddenly felt the need to be patriotic.
Patrick O’Donnell, his father’s lawyer, was the only one present in the room. His brothers were in denial. They hoped to find their father’s corpse under the rubble of the collapsed towers.
“Daniel?” Patrick O’Donnell called out, noticing that Daniel was drifting into sad thoughts.
Daniel came back to reality. He fought back tears then opened the letter fully.
Dear Daniel,
If you are reading this letter, I’m probably dead. The responsibility of protecting the legacy of our family now lies in your hands. You must protect your blood for it is all that matters in life. The contents of this letter must never be shown to anyone and must be burned as soon as it is read. It is very important.
In regards to my Will, you will have access to all my bank accounts and all my assets. By now, it is all in your name. It is your decision to share it among your brothers as you see fit. However, when the time comes, you will give seventy percent of your assets and belongings to ‘the boy’—Walter and Catherine’s son. It is his and his alone, to use.
Patrick O’Donnell will give you my ring. This is proof that my intent is for you to lead all the families as an Olivetti. He will also hand you a journal, my journal. In it contains details that will make life easier for you as the years go by.
Most importantly, you must protect the boy. He is more important than anyone. You must never expose him to the dangers the family faces. He must be pro
tected. By now, he should have been in your custody, if everything went according to my plan. Walter and Catherine must never know he is their real son until the time is right. You will know when that time comes, I promise. You can rely on Cecilia, your stepmother, for help. She will know what to do.
A friend of mine will come with a parcel regarding all documentation for the boy. His identity will be changed. It is your choice to hide the boy in a normal and good family or raise him yourself.
Remember, this boy is special. It’s beyond your comprehension. It is my only wish that you protect him. Every other thing can be done at your discretion. I love you very much. Lastly, Trust everyone but don’t just trust anybody.
Sincerely,
Your father, Frederick Olivetti
Daniel fought back tears. His father’s words replayed in his memory over and over again. Reading the letter felt like listening to his father’s voice. He didn’t care about his new inheritance; the power and the wealth. All he cared about was his father’s life. The last image of his father was still fresh.
Patrick O’Donnell stood calmly by Daniel’s desk. His grey suit made him look crisp. He was fresh out of law school and had been hired by Frederick Olivetti, immediately. He was grateful for the job, but was a bit suspicious of the family’s activities. Now that his old boss was dead, he looked forward to brighten the relationship with his new boss, Daniel Olivetti.
“I’m sorry for your loss. He would be missed. He was a really great man,” Patrick O’Donnell said. Daniel sniffed as Patrick gently took the letter from Daniel.
“W-what are you doing?” Daniel asked.
“Have you read the entire letter?” Patrick asked. Daniel nodded.
“Then I have to destroy it. Clear instructions from your father,” Patrick said as he tossed the letter into the fiery flames of the fire place.
“N-no no! Those were my father’s last words,” Daniel said as he tried to recover the letter from the fireplace, but it was too late, it had burned. He fell on his knees.
“You must pull yourself together. Be strong for your family,” Patrick said as he placed Frederick Olivetti’s ring on Daniel’s finger. He ignored Daniel’s uncontrollable tears. He then placed a thick journal with a black leather cover on Daniel’s desk.
He walked back to Daniel then placed a hand on his shoulder. Daniel’s thoughts rambled on and on about the contents of the letter. He paused, stood up, and then wiped his tears.
“When did he write the letter?” Daniel asked.
“Uh – I don’t know. The letter arrived at my office on the twelfth of September, surprisingly,” Patrick replied.
“Twelfth? Only a day after his death?”
Patrick nodded.
“To whom was the letter addressed to?” Daniel asked.
“Well, it was addressed to me. I had my own separate letter with separate instructions,” Patrick replied.
Daniel smiled a little bit. “On the twelfth of September, huh?”
“A day after he died…” he added, talking to himself. Patrick was confused.
“Why are you suddenly smiling?” Patrick asked. Daniel said nothing. The thought that his father might be alive was uplifting. Why did his father send a written letter to his lawyer a day after he died? A glimmer of hope engulfed his chest.
Daniel laughed. Although he knew he’d never see his father again, the emptiness he felt was suddenly filled with the wonderful memories he spent with his father.
“I’m sorry, am I missing something?” Patrick asked, confused. Daniel laughed uncontrollably then stopped.
“My old man was always a man of mystery,” Daniel replied. He felt stupid for mourning his father’s ‘death’. After seeing his father deflect bullets like a comic book character, he knew there was some hope his father might still be alive. He held unto the hope, but knew it was best to keep the hope to himself for the sake of his brothers.
Two days later, Daniel’s car arrived at Walter Olivetti’s mansion. In his car was the little boy, Pablo, who sat calmly at the other end of the limo’s backseat. Daniel glanced outside the window. A car was parked right in front of Walter’s mansion. Good, he was here. For a moment, he was worried he’d have to create documents by himself.
“Hold on a moment,” Daniel said to his driver. The driver stopped the car. Two bodyguards came out from the car behind them, as Daniel walked out.
“Boss! Anything wrong?” they asked.
“Nothing. I need to get some things from the man in that car,” Daniel said, His guards were too cautious to let him walk to the car alone.
A sharply dressed man walked out of the car. He was dressed in a black overcoat, black shoes and a black suit. He had a bright smile.
“You’re the one my father sent?” Daniel asked as he approached the man.
The man nodded. “Yes! My name is James Whitman. I owe a lot to your father for turning my life around and protecting my family in the past years,” James Whitman, the man Frederick saved from the Union head’s scorn, said as he handed Daniel a thick yellow envelope. Daniel calmly held the package.
“It’s all in there?” Daniel asked.
“Yes! All the documentation needed for the boy’s new identity,” James Whitman replied with a smile.
“Thank you!” Daniel said as he gave James a firm handshake.
“No, thank you. It’s an honor to work for your father. He was a great man and I know you’ll be too,” James said then walked back to his car and drove off.
Daniel did the same. Seconds later, he was in the front porch of Walter’s mansion. He got out of the car calmly, with Pablo, the little boy. He hoped he was making the right decision. He had thought about it for days; the best place to hide the boy was in a place no one would suspect.
Walter and his wife, Beatrice Olivetti, were standing by the front door. Beside them was Cecilia Olivetti, Walter’s mother.
Little Pablo walked up to the front door confidently. Cecilia gazed at the boy’s eyes. She could immediately tell that it was her grandson. Walter was absolutely clueless about who the boy was. He was told the boy was a child of a dead family member in Italy. Beatrice Olivetti was beyond happy, she had thought about adopting a boy. It was a long process, but now, as if God answered her prayers, a boy was standing there, right next to her.
She loved him immediately.
“Hi!” she said with a smile as she embraced the boy. “My name is Beatrice, I’ll be your mother and this is your grandmother, Cecilia,” Beatrice said as she pointed at Cecilia. Cecilia hugged the boy. The boy’s radiant aura felt like Frederick’s. She immediately knew the boy was special.
Daniel opened the envelope to see if the documents had accurate names written on it. He wondered what the boy’s new name would be and wondered if the boy would adjust to his new name and his new life style.
“What is your name?” Beatrice asked little Pablo.
Pablo looked up at everyone and smiled. “My name is Thomas…Thomas Olivetti,” Tom, formerly known as Pablo, said.
To Daniel’s greatest astonishment, it was the name written on all the new identifications given to him by James Whitman. He couldn’t explain how the boy knew his new name.
At that very moment, he understood why his father had gone through all the trouble to protect Tom.
32
Present day
“Our sources in Mexico found President Carlos Ramirez dead in a Mexican Cartel shootout, along with two hundred other Cartel members, including six of the well-known Cartel bosses. President Carlos Ramirez’s presence there has spread suspicion around the country. We don’t know the full details of his death, but he appeared to have entered Cartel territory voluntarily. Mexican authorities are currently investigating the cause of President Ramirez’s death due to the fact that the Presidential Helicopter was present at the location. Meanwhile, Mexican Vice President, Juan Diaz, has taken over the Presidential office this afternoon. This is Angela Davis from WNN,”
Agent Weaver
turned off the TV. “This is not a coincidence. Two hundred Cartel members dead, only days after the Olivetti brothers were killed? C’mon open your eyes before something worse happens!” he yelled out to Agent Parker and the FBI district director, Mark Shaw.
Mark Shaw’s tolerance for Weaver’s insolence was slowly deteriorating but, Weaver had a good point. If the Agency wasn’t careful, a mafia war could lead to a world war.
“We can’t do anything until we have surveillance tapes. We can’t get the tapes until our sources in the Mexican Law Enforcement get them,” Mark Shaw replied calmly.
“What about satellite feeds, huh!? We can get them before we fuel a world war,” Weaver replied.
Mark Shaw sighed. He admired Weaver’s tenacity, but was irritated by his jumpiness. “Son, you can be rest assured that the investigation of the death of a country’s president is way above your pay grade…even mine,”
WHITE HOUSE, SITUATION ROOM
PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE, D.C
08:00am
It was a crucial evening. The death of a nation’s president always bred questions and the first country to get the answer to those questions usually held all the power. The room was tense. The Joint Chiefs waited for the President’s arrival. The walnut wood conference table glowed. Debrief report packets were placed in front of everyone seated on the table. The top highest security clearance holders were present in the room; Generals, top Pentagon officials, and representatives of government sectors unknown to the general public.
Olivetti: Illumination Page 28
