by S. W. Frank
“That ancient, huh?” The man remarked to his partner.
“Damn antique.”
“Hurry up and get the shit and let’s go.”
The videotapes were marked by the date and he grabbed Friday’s. On a whim he decided to grab Thursday and Saturday, too. He shoved them inside his jacket and circled from behind the security desk, nodding at Mike. They’d gotten what they came for, now they had to high tail it back to Jersey to hand it over to their boss.
They exited only seconds before the laid-back security guard returned from his break. He saw the back of the dark leather jackets and the burly men wondering if they’d come to visit while he was gone and decided to leave or came from one of the apartments. He shrugged. He tried to stay abreast of the comings and goings of these people, but hell, when nature calls you have to answer.
He looked at the monitor and noticed some tapes were missing and jumped to his feet. Those guys must have stolen it. He ran to the door and peered up and down the street. Pedestrians streamed in opposite directions on the concrete. Loud trucks rumbled over potholes and horns blared with impatience at the stalled traffic.
The thieving duo was gone.
****
“Hey kid, want a cheeseburger and some fries?”
Darren frowned. He didn’t eat beef. “No thanks.”
The man eyed him curiously, “What kind of kid doesn’t eat cheeseburgers or french fries?”
“Me.”
“Well, I’m sure you eat something. What’ll it be?”
“Can you get hold of curry chicken and plantains?”
“What?”
“Curry chicken and plantains. You’ve never eaten Caribbean food?” The boy asked incredulously.
His captor, more accurately the flunky for his captor, pulled a face. “Can’t say that I have.”
“As old as you are, I guess you haven’t done much living.”
“Hey, watch the fresh mouth. Don’t make me slap you, kid.”
“Bitches slap; men punch.”
“Then don’t let me bitch-slap you, then punch you in the face pretty boy.” The man sneered.
Darren studied the man. He’d remember this one. This guy pretending to care whether he ate or not already slapped him this morning. Why? Because he didn’t wake fast enough. Mother-fucker! Now he wanted to play nice, no way. “How long are you going to keep me locked in here?”
The man stood at the door, holding it ajar. Darren considered trying to make a run for it, then knew he wouldn’t get past the oversize bald man or the others lurking somewhere in the house. This guy looked like one of those mixed martial arts dudes on steroids. He also had a mean streak. He could tell.
“When your parents give us what we want, you’re free to go.” The man lied.
“And when is that?”
The bald man laughed, his crooked teeth jutting out from his thin mouth, “Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.” He tossed the white and red bag across the room and it landed on the bed beside Darren. “Eat the cheeseburger, you’ll like it. There are two in there. Eat it or fucking starve, you spoiled little mother-fucker!”
The door clicked closed. Darren looked at the time. It was ten-thirty. He’d been here for two days and grew worried. The police or somebody should’ve found him, already. He heard the men talking late last night. They must’ve thought he slept, but how could he sleep when he was being held against his will and wearing the same gym clothes for days?
His captors mentioned something about his mom laundering money. They said she wouldn’t go to the cops, she’s a lawyer and lawyers are the biggest crooks. He got angry, his mom wasn’t a crook. She was his mom! He might’ve fallen asleep once the anger subsided, but they kept yapping and it’s the comment, “Her ex-husband’s been having her clean his dirty money for years. The sonovabitch think ‘cause he’s an enforcer for the mob, he’s untouchable –‘aint nobody untouchable,” that got Darren’s attention.
The men were laughing; completely unaware the boy heard every word. Darren wanted to cry. His dad said he handled disputes and served as a mediator for very important people. He traveled around a lot because powerful people had serious problems which required an immediate resolution. Darren’s eyes were red, when he thought about it. His dad lied, Aaron was right about him; he said their dad wasn’t honest. Neither, of his parents were. They’d been lying the whole time about who they were. His mom was a thief and the dad he worshipped, a murderer!
He grabbed the stupid bag and ate to keep from crying. Next time he saw his dad, well if there was a next time he planned to curse him out. He still loved him but now it was tainted. No wonder when people become adults their so freaking jaded. Everybody lies and people you love always start to disappoint you. He took another bite of the sandwich then tossed it at the door. It splat there, he choked a laugh because the doggone ketchup and meat adhered to the door. What the hell was it made of glue? Finally the nasty thing started to slide slowly down to the floor and despite his foul mood, he laughed just like a kid, glad this wasn’t his room. His mom would throw a fit and make him clean the crap. Here he didn’t care, why should he be nice to people holding him hostage, huh?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alfonzo found Nico at the table with a laptop, his teeth clamped on the edge of a pencil and eyes intently on the screen. A fresh cup of tea sat near his elbow ignored. Alfonzo walked around the conference size table and looked over Nico’s shoulder, “What’s all this?”
“A satellite visual of where the kidnapper is holding Darren.”
“How’d you get it?”
“The watch I gave him.”
Alfonzo scratched his nose. Yeah, Selange and Vincent once planted a similar device in his collection of timepieces. It’s how Vincent followed his every move in New York a while back. Thinking about Vincent prompted a silent sigh then he asked, “So where are they holding him?”
Nico determined the aerial view of the property was in Suffolk County, out near the Hamptons. The grainy images weren’t the best and he tried to enhance the digital resolution and gave up after three quick attempts. There wasn’t another house for five to ten miles. They couldn’t go in from the main road; the guys holding his son would see them coming. He scrolled around, searching the landscape for obstructions, anything to serve as cover and found nothing but earth. Shit, he turned to Alfonzo, “I’ve tracked my son. He’s still in New York, way out in the Hamptons. We’re going to need more guys. Going in we’ll have to use night as our camouflage, otherwise they’ll see us coming from a mile away.”
Alfonzo eyed the structure and the plains around it, “Scroll east…there.” Alfonzo squint, he’d flown in to this spot before. He vacationed around there with the family a few years ago. They stayed away from the populace Southampton enclave and rented a summer property in Shinnecock Hills. He loved the history of the Indians and took Sal down to the Shinnecock Indian Reservation, where the boy got to learn about real American history and not the shit they put in those inaccurate books used in school.
Yeah, this wasn’t a desolate home. This was a family summer retreat. Whoever was holding Nico’s kid had access to prime New York real estate. He stepped back to make a call to his New York office. Gavin, one of his employees picked up, “Yeah Gavin, I need you to get me a listing of all the properties along the east end of Long Island with eight or more acres. I’m looking for something remote, preferably near the Shinnecock area, nothing on the tribal side. And oh, yeah, it’s got to have a view of the shores and see if you can get me the floor plans, just in case the property is sound and my investor wants to save costs and just do an expansion. Narrow down something for me with the owners contact info too. Get on it ASAP.” He hung up and gave Nico his full attention, “When are you expecting the call?”
“Eight tonight, for the drop.”
“You have a hundred mill?”
“I can’t get to it, it’s floating in Switzerland, and Ariana’s the only one who can do it.”
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“I’ll put up the money; we don’t want to scare the assholes into doing something stupid.” He walked to the kitchen to get some orange juice and leaned against the fridge drinking from the container. Selange and Anita went bonkers any time he did this, but hell he was thirsty. He wiped his mouth, “Who are they expecting for this drop?”
“They want Aaron.”
Alfonzo’s blues became ice. “No, won’t happen. We’ll get one of our guys who can pass for the boy.”
Nico removed the flash drive with the coordinates and cleared the laptop, deleting any stored data, then reboot from a date six days prior. He’d utilized Sal’s computer for his research. The feds usually didn’t monitor the activities of minors, especially kids Sal’s age. While the system went through its functions, Nico raised to his full six plus height, “We can’t risk that Alfonzo. Aaron’s my kid; I wouldn’t put him in danger. They’re not going to do anything to him. They’re just making sure it stays in the family. They want the money…it’s all they’re after.”
Alfonzo stuck the half empty container in the fridge, “And what if you’re wrong, Nico?”
“I’m not.”
“It’s dangerous to gamble with your kids’ life.”
Nico’s dark eyes were a flaming brown. He didn’t plan on gambling. There were no bets on this. His son was his blood, and anyone who harmed a hair on the boy’s head would find themselves screaming for death to come swift. He’d make a bloody river of everyone they loved. “Since when have you known me to be a gambling man, Alfonzo?”
“The day you walked in here, betting I wouldn’t kill you.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?”
“No.” Alfonzo pulled the Bowie knife concealed at his waist. Its steel flashed in the sun’s light. “You were wrong. I had this attached to my ankle, “he spun the ornate handle in his fingertips, staring at Nico as it twirled menacingly, “Let me tell you something about Vincent. He was a murderous sonovabitch but he was a loyal friend and there’s a time I thought you were the better of the two. The day I came looking for my wife, your brother made me swear if I found you with my wife, not to kill you. Vincent never asked one favor in the years I’ve known him and the one time he does, it’s to spare your miserable fucking life. He saved you that day and yesterday my mother gave you one more breath. You’ve had two passes, Nico, there isn’t a third. You ever fucking cross me again, I won’t put an invisible blade in your back the way you did me pendejo –nah that’s cowardly. You’ll see my steel and feel it slicing your miserable throat, you feel me cugino?”
Their eyes locked in a stalemate. They were an intimidating pair; one a powerful Don with power at his fingertips to kill any man and the other, an obstinate enforcer with a stockpile of bodies scattered around the world. Nico’s nostrils flared, “And I’ll let you do it, cousin. I won’t even put up a fight. I’m not looking for redemption, hell I just want peace.”
****
Ariana descended the stairs. It was pretty early and the inhabitants of the house were just beginning to wake except for the men talking downstairs. One of the voices she recognized immediately. At the foot of the staircase she could see Nico and Alfonzo in the kitchen, a ginormous kitchen compared to her modest apartment in Manhattan. The entire estate was the equivalent of five city blocks.
She walked left through the dining-room to where the men were. Alfonzo held a beautiful blade in his hand, and those aquatic blue eyes were trained on her ex-husband in a murderous slither of ice. She’d heard the end tail of their conversation and decided to diffuse the testosterone infused atmosphere with the wisdom of a woman.
Alfonzo lowered the weapon when he saw her, “Good morning guys, hi Alfonzo, it’s finally nice to meet you.” She said.
“Same here,” he answered in a deep snarl that she knew was meant for her ex.
“I thought only lawyers wake at the crack of dawn.”
“Only bears sleep late.”
She chuckled, “I smell coffee, you mind?” She asked then moved through the middle of the men to the cappuccino machine.
“Help yourself, mi casa su casa.”
Nico ‘humphed,’ it wasn’t his damn house anymore, it was Selange’s.
Ariana peered in the cabinet, took down a cup and stuck it beneath the spout. She pressed the lever until the dark frothy brew filled to the rim then Alfonzo pointed her in the direction of the sugar and spoons. “Thanks,” she said.
Nico crossed his arms as she stirred in sugar then leaned against the counter to drink. The spoon stuck out over the edge of the cup. “No tea this morning, Ari?”
“I need coffee. You kept me up late.”
Alfonzo discreetly sheathed his knife. “Yeah, I heard.”
She looked sideways at the chiseled younger man, “Um sorry. We were up working.” The wicked grin transformed Alfonzo’s sexy mouth and Ariana smiled. Alfonzo Diaz was one hot-ass man!
“Must have been a hostile merger.” He quipped.
Selange was a damn fool. Nico was attractive, but this one, he looked like he could stay up all night doing the nasty. She took another sip then retorted, “The most satisfying kind. You’re a businessman; you know how it is when you hold the upper hand.”
Alfonzo’s smile widened. He liked this pretty lady. Nico, fucked up! “Yeah, they have no choice but to agree to the terms.”
“Exactly.” She eyed Nico who stood there with an unreadable expression and went in for the poke, “You know Alfonzo, we have a lot in common. I think you’d have to get in line to kill this one after me. We need to keep him alive at least until I get my son home then we have at it.”
This generated an emotion in Nico’s dark eyes, “Ari.”
“Um, listening.”
“This isn’t the time. We need to focus on Darren.”
“This is the perfect time. We’re in crisis, again and we should be clear on exactly where we stand. I don’t think there are any secrets here, right Alfonzo?”
This was getting good. Yeah, he really liked this Ariana. “Right lawyer lady.”
“You know, Alfonzo, it’s such a shame we were never officially introduced. While my ex-husband and your former wife were out humping like rabbits, we could’ve comforted each other.”
Alfonzo flirted back, taking sport in Nico’s foul countenance. Now the back stabber had a taste of his medicine. “Sí mami, shame, I could’ve used a beautiful dance partner. Do you know how to do the bachata or meringue?”
“No, but you can always teach me, papi.”
“Alright you two, cool it!” Nico scowled.
“Hurts a bit doesn’t it, Nico?”
“You’ve made your fucking point Ari, don’t toy with me. I don’t like it.”
“Neither did I. Let’s broker an understanding. I’m seeing somebody Nico. He’s dependable and emotionally present. That’s what I need and no matter how sweet it was last night it’s not going to change our relationship status. We’re divorced, it stays that way. You’re my children’s father and that’s it, are we clear?”
Nico glowered. “Mister MIA. Yeah, I heard about your dork boy-friend, guess why you came seeking a man. By the way good luck with the emotionally present crap!”
“Dork or not, he’s there when I need him.”
Alfonzo pushed off the counter and strolled toward the patio doors. He didn’t want to witness their spat. He had grown-up things to attend to, like go over instructions with Nicky to follow in his absence, adult things and the bickering he’d leave to the big kids in the kitchen. Obviously, Nico’s ex required closure. Thank goodness he and Selange got the ugly out of the way and could start working on the trust factor. He understood Ariana’s derision, though. There’s serious emotional injury and a loss of trust when someone you love is unfaithful; it’s devastating. Infidelity hurts like hell, yeah he knew first-hand because he was also on the receiving end.
The couples’ voices became slightly elevated along with Alfonzo’s brisk steps.
“Reall
y, then where the hell was he last night? Tokyo, you said, meanwhile you’re in bed with me. By the way, does this joker have a name?”
“You don’t need to know his name. You’re not going to make him disappear Nico. I know you scared off the other guy I was seeing. This time I’m warning you not to butt in my life. Last night I had an itch I needed scratched and you were available. Plain and simple. Don’t try to decode a non-existent hidden message. It was one night and one good fuck, nothing more.”
Ouch, checkmate! Alfonzo hurried out the patio doors, laughing. It appeared last night wasn’t the happy reunion after-all. The feisty woman ripped Nico to shreds. Alfonzo found it amusing. Yes, karma’s a real bitch, isn’t it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Matteo, I don’t like this.” Amelda shrieked as her husband climbed from the bed. His lithe muscles ran straight down to his calves.
Matteo kept his back to his wife as he donned his pants then turned to face his gorgeous wife, Giuseppe’s sister and the woman who’d curbed his wild ways. She did so because he wanted to be tamed, it required no force on her part, simply the touch of her lips were enough. “Amelda I will be fine. Go back to sleep, cara.”
“Call your father or Alberti; do not meet with Antony Benaducci. He believes my brother is responsible for Roberto’s disappearance.”
Matteo removed a shirt from the closet. He did not tell his wife he already heard these rumors nor did he mention they were facts. He and Antony Benaducci were business acquaintances. It would appear fishy if he suddenly began avoiding the man and whatever suspicions the Benaducci’s had about his involvement would be confirmed. He sat in a decorative chair in their bedroom to put on his shoes, “Por favore, Amelda, there’s nothing to worry about. I am taking one of my men.”
