Stormcrow: Book Two: Birds of a Feather

by N. C. Reed

  “You're cleared into the house, sir,” the sergeant told Tony after returning their ID. “Mister Galen will have to remain out here.”

  “No, he won't,” Tony shook his head. “He's my friend, practically family himself. He's here with me to meet my parents and he is coming with me, sergeant. I don't know what the hell is going on around here but I do know that much.”

  “You'll have to speak to the Lieutenant, sir,” the sergeant shook his head.

  “No, I won't,” Tony shot back. “We are both going inside, sergeant. For your sake, I'd suggest you stand aside and not try to prevent me getting inside to see my mother. I've cooperated more with you than I've ever done for anyone, but that's at an end.”

  “Sir, I have my orders and he's not allowed inside,” the sergeant licked his lips.

  “Then you better call-, you know what? I need to use the com,” he changed his mind suddenly. “Get me a com into the house and do it right now.”

  Hesitating only a second, the sergeant nodded and retrieved a mobile com unit which he handed to Tony. The angry mobster's son bypassed the receptionist and called his mother's private line. It rang three times before his mother's personal assistant answered.

  “Delgado.”

  “Marisa?” Tony asked. “Marisa is that you?”

  “Yes,” the woman replied. “May I ask who this is?” her voice sounded strained he noted.

  “Marisa, this it Antonio,” he told her. “I'm standing outside the gate right now but I'm having some issues getting inside. I have a good friend of mine with me and I'm being told he can't come inside. What is going on around here?”

  “Oh, Mister Anthony,” Marisa sounded almost relieved. “Sir, I can't. . .I can't say, especially over the air. Let me. . .give me two minutes and I'll have this sorted. What is your friend's name?” Tony gave her the needed information.

  “Two minutes,” she promised and broke the connection. Tony returned the unit to the sergeant.

  “You should be getting a call shortly,” he told the sweating police supervisor. The man nodded and returned to his vehicle.

  “Find out what the problem is?” Sean asked.

  “No, but we'll know in a minute,” Tony assured him. “That was my mother's personal assistant. She's getting this straightened out. We should be hearing back in just a minute. Something's definitely not right, though,” he added. “She sounded. . .not just upset, but rattled. I don't know what the hell. . . .” he trailed off as the sergeant returned.

  “You're both cleared inside, sir,” the man said without preamble.

  “Thank you,” Tony nodded curtly. “C'mon and let's see what the hell is going on around here that I can't even get into my own place.”

  -

  Sean had to admit he was impressed. The estate was sprawling, a place of greenery that was obviously well maintained. Small pools and fountains dotted numerous small gardens and gazebos, there was even a small amphitheater off to their left, complete with a frame work for lights.

  “I'm surprised you want to live on the Celia, considering all this,” Sean mentioned as the two approached the huge mansion that Tony had grown up in.

  “Yeah, well,” Tony muttered. “A gilded cage is still a cage, man.”

  “Suppose it is,” Sean agreed. A man Tony didn't recognize was standing at the door. Seeing that Sean was armed, the man immediately drew his sidearm, though he kept it hanging at his side. Sean didn't react, but Tony tensed at seeing the action.

  “You put that away or I'll feed it to you,” he snarled, his voice conveying a tone of command that Sean had heard only once before, when they had spoken to Attorney 'Tuttle' on Hartley Station. It had surprised him there, but not this time.

  “He's armed,” the man said.

  “No shit?” Tony's sarcasm was thick. “He has to be to keep me safe dimwit. I'm Anthony Delgado and this is supposed to be taken care of already. Don't tell me you aren't expecting me.”

  “No one said anything about him being armed,” the man replied. “I can't let you-”

  “I'm getting really tired of people telling me what they 'can't let me' do,” Tony cut the man off. “You got three seconds to holster that, or try to use it. I'd really, really recommend you holster it if you want to make it to the ridiculous pension you were promised when you came to work here. I won't say it again,” he added.

  The man used all three seconds before doing as he'd been ordered, his body actions screaming reluctance. He tried to stare Sean down but the former assassin merely returned the gaze blandly, not bothering to speak. This wasn't his turf and he wasn't going to get into a pissing contest with anyone.

  “C'mon,” Tony tossed over his shoulder. Sean followed him up the steps and inside the home, ignoring the stare from the hired tough at the door. Tony smirked openly at the man, wanting so very badly to let Sean take him down a peg but knowing it wasn't the right thing to do. And it was bothering him just a bit at how easily he was slipping back into the 'family' persona he had tried to leave behind him when he'd left San Lucia to go to medical school. Being around this environment was bad for his attitude.

  “Mister Anthony,” a middle-aged woman with wire rim glasses was waiting inside. Tony smiled as he returned her hug warmly.

  “Marisa,” he spoke softly. “You look very good.”

  “You never change,” the woman slapped his arm lightly. “Always the flirt. You must be Mister Galen,” she said to Sean.

  “Just Sean,” he told her. “Yes, I am.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” the woman told him, offering him a gentle handshake. “Mister Anthony, your parents and your oldest brother are in the study. They do not know you are here,” she sounded hesitant.

  “Marisa, what the hell is going on?” Tony demanded.

  “I. . .I don't know that you shouldn't hear it from them,” she admitted. “Not that. . .I mean, it's. . . .”

  “Marisa,” Tony's voice hardened ever so slightly. Her eyes closed for a few seconds as she took a deep breath.

  “Follow me,” she said finally and led the two to a small office off the main hall. Once inside she closed the door.

  “Your sister went to the Gavanza this morning,” she said without preamble. “Alfonso's fall collection was being released today and she wanted to be there.”

  “Of course,” Tony sighed. “And?”

  “Her party was ambushed inside the mall,” Marisa didn't try to ease the information any. Mister Anthony didn't like that sort of thing. “Her guards and her. . .Elena. . .Elena was killed,” Marisa's facade finally cracked a bit. “All of them shot down like dogs right in the mall. Your sister. . .they've taken Lucia, Mister Anthony. Whoever they are, they took her and were gone before the security at the mall could prevent it. There were dozens of others killed or injured by merely random gunfire and at least one explosion of some kind.”

  “What?” Tony sounded incredulous. “How in the hell can that have happened? There of all places? Don't we. . .don't they, still own the mall?”

  “Yes, and security it always very tight,” Marisa nodded. “I. . .I don't understand it either,” she admitted. “I've told you all that I know. I do not know if they have been contacted by the kidnappers yet. I don't know. . .I. . .” she stopped then, lifting her glasses to wipe a tear away. “Elena was shot in the head while she was already on the ground, wounded. No reason to do it other than just. . .because,” she shrugged. “There's no doubt this was a deliberate attack upon the family, but there's no indication that I am aware of as to why, or who it was. There's always the possibility it was for money, I guess.”

  “I guess,” Tony sounded shell shocked. His little sister was a brat, there was no denying that, but. . .she was a lovable brat. So far as he knew she'd never harmed a soul. She had rivalries with other girls her age of course, but none of that would rate something like this.

  “I . . . I need to see my mother and father,” he said finally.

  “Of course,” Marisa nodded. �
�Come,” she said, opening the door and leading them down and across the hall to a massive set of wooden doors. She looked back at them once before knocking three times in rapid succession then opening them.

  Tony walked inside, trying to school his features as he did so. He was sure his mother was a wreck, and there was no need to add to that. He was conscious of Sean following him and was suddenly grateful for the other man's friendship.

  “Antonio?” a remarkably attractive woman who was probably in her fifties but looked as if she was in her late thirties stood abruptly, a look of shock on her face. Sean had to admit that Tony's mother was stunning. Tall with a willowy build, long jet-black hair in a single braid that hung to her waist, her finely appointed features showed both breeding and beauty. Her startling blue eyes were wet with tears yet shed as she opened her arms to her son. She looked ever so slightly familiar to Sean, but he wrote it off to her being Tony's mother.

  “Mamma,” Tony said softly as he walked to her and embraced her tightly.

  “Oh, my sweet bambino,” the woman said softly and Sean noted that the younger of the two men already in the room frowned at that, obviously jealous. “Today of all days am I grateful to see you, my dear boy,” she whispered.

  “I only just got here two hours or so ago,” Tony told her. “I didn't know until I actually got inside.” The older man had stood from the desk he was behind and approached them.

  “Son,” the man Sean now knew was Jerome Delgado embraced his son tightly, slapping his back heartily. “It's good to see you, even on such a day as this.” Tony's father was also tall, but built like a block of cement. Wide shoulders and muscles that no suit, regardless of how expensive, could hide. This was a man who did his own work, or had before he'd inherited his current position. Iron gray was edging into what had once been a deep chestnut brown hair color, and piercing green eyes missed nothing, Sean imagined. A formidable adversary to say the least, he decided.

  “You too,” Tony replied. “Marisa filled me in on what she knew, but she said she didn't know much, just that there was an attack at the mall and that Lucia was taken?”

  “Yes,” Jerome nodded. Tony looked to the younger man.

  “Roberto,” he smiled weakly and offered his hand. His brother showed great reluctance but took the hand anyway, and then the two shared an awkward, forced embrace, Sean assumed for the benefit of their parents. Roberto was almost as tall as his parents, but. . .weak. He looked strong enough physically, but his spirit, his aura, spoke of an elemental weakness within him that would prevent him from being the man his father was. Or that his brother was for that matter. Brown hair from his father, along with green eyes that were nowhere as intelligent or searching as his father's were, his skin was almost milky, and his hands were soft, where his father's hands were calloused and scarred. Sean doubted that 'Roberto' had ever done a real day’s work in his entire life.

  “Antonio,” Roberto returned. “Good to see you,” he added, again probably for the mother's benefit if not both parents.

  “You too,” Tony replied. “I. . .I had planned to surprise you,” he told his parents. “I never. . .I mean I didn't imagine. . . .” he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

  “None of us would have,” his father shook his head.

  “Have you heard anything at all?” Tony asked.

  “Antonio, who is this?” his mother asked him. Tony looked at her and realized she was looking at Sean.

  “I am so sorry,” he apologized. “Mamma, Poppa, Roberto, this is my shipmate and best friend, Sean Galen. He's the engineer on the ship I serve on. Sean, this is my father, Jerome, my mother Antonia, and my brother, Roberto.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sean said softly, reluctant to intrude.

  “And we you,” Antonia said regally. “I regret that it is such a harsh day that you have visited with us.”

  “I'm sorry for your pain, ma'am,” Sean said gently. He looked at Tony.

  “Should I wait outside?”

  “I. . .well, no,” Tony shook his head. “In fact, I'd like you to stay. I might need your. . .expertise. If you're willing,” he added.

  “Of course I am,” Sean told him. “Whatever you need,” he promised.

  “Thanks, man,” Tony nodded.

  “I don't think an engineer is going to be much help, Tony,” Roberto snorted. “And this is a family issue.”

  “He wasn't always an engineer,” Tony replied calmly. “And when the time comes, you'll be glad he's on our side.”

  “Time?” Roberto asked.

  “Seriously?” Tony looked at his brother. “You really need me to spell it out for you? Whoever did this dies, Roberto.”

  “Antonio,” his brother objected but Jerome interrupted, his face showing approval.

  “No,” the older man said flatly. “No, he is correct. Whoever has done this, they will pay for it. I assume that before he was an engineer, Mister Galen was. . .something else?” he phrased it carefully.

  “I was,” Sean replied evenly. “I was raised to be something else,” he admitted.

  “I suspected as much,” the older man nodded and looked at Antonia, who paled ever so slightly. Sean hid a frown at that, wondering what kind of connection the old man had just made. He couldn't see it himself, and he didn't like that.

  “Have you heard anything?” Tony got the discussion back on track. “And why the coppers?” he asked.

  “They were called to the mall,” his father shrugged. “There was no way to keep them out under the circumstances. I've allowed them to block access to the house and they have an investigator interviewing the staff, though Tuttle is with them to assure that nothing untoward is done.”

  Tony nodded at that. Jerome Delgado had always preached loyalty to his children. He expected loyalty from his retainers and he returned it equally. His people were never left hanging. Ever.

  “I'm afraid I spoke a bit harshly to the cops at the gate, and the guy at the door,” Tony told them. “By the time I was allowed into the house my temper was running a little short,” he admitted.

  “They will recover,” Jerome shrugged it off. “Wilhelm called in extra men for the house and the rest of the family after this morning. The man at the door is usually stationed at the port, I believe. He is not accustomed to the comings and goings of the house. It will pass.”

  “And we have as yet heard nothing,” he admitted, getting back to Tony's question. “The police of course have demanded that the investigation be left in their hands and I have done so for the moment. However,” he glanced at Sean, “I think we may change that, now.”

  “What?” Roberto cut in. “Because of an engineer who used to be something else?” he demanded. “The police are the professionals at this! We should let them do their jobs!”

  “If I were confident they would do their jobs, I would be inclined to agree,” Jerome replied evenly. “I lack such confidence however. As such, I will also be looking into this myself. I will not have my people killed on my own ground, my own flesh and blood taken from me, and be told to sit quietly while others decide if my own people are to blame!” by the time he finished he was almost yelling at his oldest son and a heavy fist slammed into the desk, making everyone but Sean jump. The man took a deep breath and made a concentrate effort to calm himself.

  “If you believe that I will do so my son, then you do not know me at all,” he said finally. “And if you are content to allow these buffoons, corrupt and inept as they are, to be responsible for returning your sister to us, then perhaps you are not the man to replace me when the time comes.”

  It was a deadly insult in the circles that Jerome Delgado traveled in and Sean knew it. He had watched scenarios roughly similar play out on his own home world before he had taken to the stars to hunt those who had killed his family. The heir apparent was not always the best choice to replace the aging chief. Which was why the chief usually named his own replacement. Obviously, Jerome Delgado believed in the same rule.

  �
��Father,” Roberto's voice was strained, “I want Lucia back as much as you do, but we cannot simply go and do as we please! We have no idea who has done this! We don't even know where to begin!”

  “Begin where it happened,” Sean spoke without thinking. Every eye in the room turned to him and he realized he'd made himself the center of attention.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Roberto demanded. “Begin where it happened,” he snorted.

  “Someone in that mall knows who did this,” Sean shrugged.

  “How do you figure that, having just arrived here?” Roberto demanded. “Or has Tony filled you in on all our secrets,” he semi-accused.

  “I didn't even know he had a brother until five minutes ago,” Sean shrugged. “He didn't know anything about my past until a few weeks ago. We've been friends a long time without the need for either knowing the others 'secrets'.”

  “You own the mall in question, correct?” Sean dismissed the brother as irrelevant and turned to the father.

  “I do,” he nodded.

  “I assume that the security there is more than the average shopping mall would rate, then?” Sean asked.

  “Very much so,” the old man nodded. “A number of influential families and friends shop there. Privacy and security are of the utmost concern.”

  “So the likelihood that someone could execute an ambush inside that mall without assistance from within is very unlikely,” Sean nodded. “That means that someone there knows who did this, sir. Was everyone in the shops that were used to hide the attackers killed?”

  “No,” the old man's eyes took on a different light.

  “Perhaps one or two of them were wounded?” Sean suggested. “Lightly, of course. Flesh wounds. Painful, bloody, but not serious.”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Jerome replied, his face hardening.

  “Then that's where you start,” Sean nodded. “One of those individuals knows who did this. You can just about bet on it.”

  “And they'll just tell you because you guessed it,” Roberto snorted again.