The Mark of Cosa Nostra

by Nick Carter

  "Who is it?" she asked timidly.

  The grumbling from the other side of the front door was masculine but I couldn't make out the words. Then the pounding started again.

  Before Tanya unlatched the door, I walked to the bedside table and snatched up my cigarettes and lighter. I lit one while watching her click the latch.

  It was Mike, the blond boyfriend from the photo. And he was drunk. He came lumbering in as Tanya fell back, then stood swaying back and forth. He put most of his weight on a cane; the two broken legs must not have completely healed yet.

  Tanya was sharp. "Mike!" she said in mock surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  "Where issa sombitch?" he bellowed. "Had a hell of a time findin' this place. Where is he, Sandee?"

  She was backing slightly, making sure she didn't get between me and the boyfriend. I lit one of my gold-tipped cigarettes and blew smoke at the ceiling.

  In broad daylight, had Mike been sober, he might have easily seen that he was not talking to Sandee. But the hour was still early; the sun wasn't up yet, and Tanya played her role well.

  "Mike, you're drunk," she said. "If you wake him up, he'll do more than just break your legs."

  "Aha!" Mike shouted. "Knew that bastard caused the accident. Get your clothes. We're gettin' out of here."

  Tanya had backed to the hall. "No, Mike. I'm staying. I like it here."

  He stood swaying, staring at her. "You… mean you'd rather stay with that old bastard?"

  "He does things for me that you never could."

  "Come back to me, Sandee."

  "No. I told you, I like it here."

  His lips quivered. "Nothin' is any good any more. It's not the same without you. Please… come back," he begged.

  "I think you'd better leave," she said.

  I noticed he had a ruggedly handsome face in person. The blond hair was cut in such a way to make him look like a little boy, a fact I'm sure he realized. If Tanya couldn't get rid of him, I'd have to. She was backing down the hallway now.

  "Sandee," he cried. "The bastard is no good for you. You're so young you don't understand. What he did to me, breaking my legs, was nothin'. He's a criminal. He has people killed, don't you see. He's part of the Mafia."

  "I don't believe you." I was more and more impressed by Tanya's quick mind.

  "It's true, I checked. Sandee, has he got something on you? Is he making you stay here?"

  She shook her head. "No. I told you twice, I'm here because I want to be."

  "I don't believe you." He reached for her. "Baby, I need you real bad."

  Tanya danced away. She was close to the bedroom door now. "Mike," she said in a calm voice. "I asked you nicely to leave."

  Then he stopped. He stood staring at her, his knuckles growing white as he gripped the cane. "He made you like this," he cried. "That Acasano did it. I'll kill the bastard!"

  That was when I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall. I shoved the snout of the Luger to within inches of his nose. In as tough a voice as I could muster, I said, "Now's your chance, punk. What is it you wanted to do?"

  His bloodshot brown eyes blinked at me. He fell back three steps toward the living room and wet his lips with his tongue. "I…" he mumbled. "You're pretty tough with that gun. I… wonder how tough you'd be without it."

  "You aren't going to find out, punk, because you're leaving."

  He stood tall. "I'm not going until Sandee tells me to."

  Tanya was leaning against the wall watching us. Her nipples pushed against the thin material of the nightie. "That's what I've been trying to tell you since you got here, Mike. I want you to leave."

  His good-looking boyish face wrinkled in pain as he looked at her. "Do you mean that? You prefer this… old… man to me?"

  I stepped over to Tanya. Reaching out with my free hand I lightly patted the underside of her left breast. She smiled.

  "What do you think of that?" I said. Then I stepped toward him threateningly. "Now you listen to me, punk, and you listen good. Sandee is my broad now, see? You get the hell out of here and you stay away. I see your ugly face around again I'll pump it so full of lead you'll look like a diving belt." To add a little flavor to my threat I backhanded him with my free hand across the face.

  The slap sounded loud in the quiet morning air. He spun half around and grabbed one of the living-room chairs to keep from going down. The cane dropped to the floor.

  Tanya ran over to him. She picked up his cane and handed it to him. Then she turned to me. "You didn't have to hit him so hard. You could have just told him."

  I stood silent with Wilhelmina hanging loosely in my hand, aimed at the floor. "I want him out of here," I said softly.

  Mike hobbled toward the door. When Tanya opened it for him, he looked steadily at her. "And you're here because you want to be?"

  She nodded. He stepped into the hallway outside, then turned back to me.

  I lifted the Luger. "Something else you wanted, punk?"

  "Yeah. I was wondering how interested the police would be in how I got my legs broke."

  "Any time you grow weary of life, ask them."

  Tanya shut the door. For a few seconds she gripped the knob and rested her head against the door. Then she turned around to face me. She gave out a long sigh. "What do you think?"

  I shrugged. "I think he bought it. If anyone were to ask him, I think he would say he saw Sandee and Acasano."

  She turned away from the door and went in the kitchen. I heard her pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. I dropped Wilhelmina in my robe pocket and went to stand in the doorway.

  She was leaning against the sink with her back to me. "I think something is happening, Nick."

  "What?"

  "I feel rotten about what we did to Mike." She turned to face me. "Acasano was the lowest type of creature I ever heard of. And, Nick, I'm starting to think you're him."

  I smiled at her. "I must be pretty good at my job, then."

  She ran across the kitchen and wrapped her arms around my waist. "I don't ever want to hate you, Nick. Not ever."

  The telegram came that afternoon.

  Seven

  My ears started popping as the feeder flight from Rome dropped toward the airport in Palermo, Sicily. Below stretched a patchwork of vineyards looking like a quilted blanket stretching toward the buildings of Palermo.

  Tanya, sitting next to me, squeezed my hand. We both knew this was it. We had convinced Mike, in early morning light, when he was drunk, but this was the supreme test. There would definitely not be any more Nick and Tanya. One slip here and we would be agents nine and ten added to the list.

  The instructions in the telegram had been direct and to the point. I was to book myself on the first available flight from Kennedy International direct to Rome. From there I would catch a feeder flight to Palermo. A hotel limousine would be waiting to take me straight to the Corini Hotel, where I would check in, then wait to be contacted.

  No one in Palermo had seen Acasano in ten years. That fact was working for me. Sandee's being with me was no problem either. She was my woman. From my research I had learned that these men often took their women with them on business trips.

  The DC-10 eased down over the strip, leveled off, then there was a jerk as the wheels touched and screeched. Tanya and I unfastened our safety belts.

  She was wearing a light business suit, which would have been too flashy for Tanya but which seemed right for Sandee. The blouse under the short jacket had the top three buttons unfastened revealing a nice amount of cleavage. Her skirt was one size too small, and short enough to please every male pair of eyes on the plane. She had a look of youthful petulance on her face. Ripe, full lips overpainted and frosty; far too much blue eye make-up; gum-popping jaws working to excess; the illusion was that of cheapness, and ignorance of style.

  An overdeveloped Lolita, a very young BB, Tanya had the talent to look both.

  She leaned against my shoulder, squeezin
g my hand.

  The plane taxied to the terminal, and we waited while the steps were hand-pushed to the door. Looking out the window, I noticed several taxis waiting, as well as four Fiat microbuses with the names of hotels painted on the sides.

  My eyes swept from the vehicles to the faces of the waiting crowd. Each face was studied carefully. No reason for it, I suppose. But in my years working as an agent for AXE I had made many enemies. It had become my habit to check individual faces in any crowd. You never knew where an assassin's bullet might come from. But this crowd was only anxious to greet those stepping from the plane.

  With my hand on Tanya's elbow, I moved slowly down the aisle. The pretty, smiling stewardess hoped we enjoyed our flight, and that we'd have a good time in Palermo. Tanya and I stepped out into bright sunlight and warmth. At the bottom of the steps taxi and bus drivers hawked for our patronage.

  Plane passengers moved across the open space from the plane to the wire fence, ignoring the cries of the drivers. There were embraces and kisses as relatives and loved ones were greeted.

  One of the microbuses had had "Corini Hotel" painted on its side. Still holding Tanya's elbow, I shouldered through the dark-faced hustlers to the bus. Several of the men followed, each one telling me they had the best taxi in all of Sicily. But when we reached the bus, all the men walked back except one.

  He stepped up to us, never letting his dark eyes leave the exact spot where Tanya's nipples would be. "You wish transportation to the Corini Hotel, signor?"

  "Si," I said curtly. "If you think you can tear your eyes away from my woman long enough to put them on the road."

  He nodded with embarrassment and looked away. "You have baggage checks, signor?"

  I handed them to him and watched him trot off toward the terminal. We had already cleared customs when we landed in Rome.

  "I think he's cute," Tanya said, watching him.

  "I'm sure you do. And I'm sure he thinks you're more than just cute."

  He returned ten minutes later with our luggage, and we all climbed in the Fiat bus. Our driver was as wild and horn-honking as the rest. Tanya and I didn't have much opportunity to see any sights; it took all we had just to hang on. Only in one other place besides Rome have I seen wilder maniacs on the road: Mexico City.

  At last we screeched to a sudden halt in front of an ancient, gingerbread-lined, decaying structure which called itself, according to the lighted sign over the entrance, the Corini Hotel. Our boy brought our bags inside and dropped them not too gently in front of the desk.

  "You have reservations in adjoining rooms for Thomas Acasano and Sandee Catron?" I asked the desk clerk.

  He checked the book through bifocals. "Ah, si." Then he pounded his hand on a bell, setting up one hell of a racket. In Italian he told the bellboy to run our bags up to rooms four nineteen and twenty.

  As I turned away from the desk I felt someone tapping my shoulder. I turned to see an Oriental taking three steps back and holding a camera. His head ducked behind the camera and immediately I was blinded by a bright, popping flashbulb. Too late I brought my hand up to my face.

  As the man turned to leave, I stepped up to him and grabbed his arm. "I'd like to buy that picture, friend."

  "No speak American. No understand!" He tried to pull away.

  "Let me see your camera." I grabbed for it.

  He stumbled away from me. "No!" he shrieked. "No speak American. No understand."

  I wanted to know how the hell he knew I was American. And why he wanted my picture. There were several people in the lobby of the hotel. Each and every one of them were watching the scene with interest. I didn't need all this attention. Tanya stood by the desk, but instead of watching me, she was watching the faces in the crowd.

  "You let me go!" the man shouted. For someone who didn't understand American he was muddling through in fine fashion.

  "I want to see your camera, that's all." There was a smile on my face but I was straining to keep it there. The crowd began moving toward us. It hadn't become hostile yet. There were maybe twelve men in it.

  The man jerked his arm free. "I go. You leave alone."

  I started toward him, but he turned and ran across the lobby and out the front door. The crowd stood looking at me with a mild kind of curiosity. I turned my back on them, took Tanya's arm, and headed for the open-cage elevator.

  "What did you make of it, N-Tom?" Tanya asked as we rode up toward the floor where our rooms were.

  "I wish I knew. Somebody wants my picture. And now it looks like they have it." I shrugged. "Maybe Nicoli wants to make sure the man checking in the hotel is really Thomas Acasano."

  Our bus driver had followed, helping the bellboy with the luggage. I tipped them both well when we were in my room, and locked the door behind them.

  The room had a high ceiling and four windows looking out onto the azure-blue harbor. There was a brass-framed bed with a canopy, one chest of drawers, two overstuffed chairs and a writing table with four straight-back chairs. There was a musty, hot smell, so I opened the window. Then I was able to catch a scent of the sea. Fishing boats looked white against the deep blue of the harbor. Beyond the anchored and docked boats I could see the top of a lighthouse. Jetties lined the canals going in and out of the harbor.

  The streets below were narrow, zigzagging through canyons of pressed-together buildings looking like stacked egg-cartons.

  A man on a Lambretta passed below, a pencil-thin tail of smoke flowing out behind him. He had a yellow sweater, but he wasn't wearing it; it was on his back like a cape, with the sleeves tied around his neck. I watched him move swiftly along the cobbled streets, the sun glimmering off his bright red scooter. Along both sides of the street were Fiats, the six hundreds, mostly scarlet.

  The door connecting my room with Tanya's opened and she came through minus the suit jacket. "Isn't it beautiful?" she said with a large smile.

  She crossed to the window where I was standing and looked out. Her hand reached for mine and gathered it to her breast. Then she looked up at me.

  "Make love to me."

  I reached for her and pulled her close to me. She came eagerly, willingly. It was she who pulled us toward the bed, and she who fumbled with me to get my clothes off. She wore nothing under the skirt or blouse. And it didn't take long for us to be stretched on our sides, naked, holding each other.

  I kissed her upturned nose, then each eye, then her mouth. There was warmth to her body, and smoothness. I explored every inch of her, first with my hands, then with my mouth.

  I could feel her lips on me, exploring hesitant. Each time she tried something she paused as though unsure.

  "It's all right," I whispered. "There aren't any rules. Everything is good. Let yourself go. Do whatever you have heard or dreamed or thought and never had a chance to try."

  She was making groaning sounds. I moved back up to her throat then raised myself to look at her in the sunlight.

  She was thin-boned and fragile to hold. Her breasts were mounds of softness with hardened nipples pointing straight up. She curved down then to a flat stomach and a very narrow waist. I knew I could get both hands around that waist and touch thumb and middle finger. Then there was the round flare of hips, and the buttocks that entertained so many male pairs of eyes with their movement. The legs were well shaped and joined at the small pelt of chestnut velvet. It was a pleasure-giving body filled with eagerness and youth.

  Her eyes had been searching my face while I looked her over. "Take it," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Take it and enjoy it."

  I did. I moved my mouth down to hers and let my tongue begin to match my body movements. In one motion I was over her, and then I entered her. The groaning eased to a sigh with barely a sound escaping her throat.

  As I moved against her I let my tongue move as far as possible along her tongue. Then I moved away and pulled my tongue back. It was actually two acts of love, two penetrations. And she showed me how she enjoyed it with the movements of her body.
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  It happened suddenly for her, and her body exploded with the happening. She clawed at me and writhed under me and made crying, whimpering sounds.

  There was no way I could hold back. I was a balloon filled with water and rolling across a long flat desert. A large spike was ahead sticking out of a weatherbeaten board. I felt myself pulling and clutching and bouncing until at last I struck the spike, and all the liquid water rushed out of me.

  It happened again the same way.

  And then we lay on our backs, naked, while the sun warmed us as it washed over the bed. With eyes half closed I watched the breeze stir the lace curtain, bringing with it the smells of the sea, and of fresh grapes, and of fish, and of wine.

  I moved enough to get my cigarettes and light one. Tanya snuggled close to me, searching for, then finding, the hollow of my shoulder for her head.

  "It's good," I said. "And so are you."

  That made her snuggle closer still. After a while she said, "You're thinking about the assignment, aren't you?"

  "Too many unanswered questions," I said. "Why all the Orientals? There were the two in the apartment, then that one downstairs in the lobby. What was he doing taking my picture? Who was he taking it for? And why?"

  Tanya moved away from my shoulder to a sitting position. She turned to look at me seriously. "Do you have any idea how they will contact us?"

  I shook my head. "But I think we'd better be on our toes from now on. No slip-ups, nothing that even comes close. I have a feeling about this assignment, one that I don't like."

  She kissed the tip of my nose. "Feed me, my beautiful man. Your woman is hungry. I'll go get dressed."

  As she pushed off the edge of the bed, we heard a loud ring. The phone was on the night stand next to the bed. Tanya paused.

  With my cigarette still dangling from the corner of my mouth I picked up the receiver. "Yeah, Acasano here."

  "Signor Acasano," the desk clerk said. "I have been told that a car is here waiting for you. A man is in the lobby. Can I tell him when you will be down."