Vlad grasped an end of the hood and whipped it off O’Malley’s head. Sandy hair tufted up and stayed wisped from the static of the hood. Tears ran with sweat and blood down his damaged face, his head drooped, his bare shoulders shuddered with sobs.
Naithon moved to stand directly in front of him. “Look at me, Patty O’Malley,” he ordered.
Entire body quivering with terror, O’Malley slowly lifted his quaking head and squinted at Naithon through two bruised and swollen eyes. His body shuddered harder when he recognized Naithon. He stammered quickly, “Adranokov, listen, I’m a cop.” Sucking in snot and blood, he spat off to the side, Vlad had to jump back to miss it.
Scowling, Vlad bashed his fist into the side of O’Malley’s jaw. With a grunted cry, Patty’s head bounced then wobbled back to face Naithon.
“I know you’re heat, Patty, don’t give a fuck. I have some questions for you.” The chill in Naithon’s voice could make the dead shiver in fright.
Trying to focus his swollen, bleary eyes on Naithon, O’Malley tried again. “But- but I can do shit for you, Adranokov. I can make sure your men are never arrested, I can get goods to your crew that are in jail. I can pay you, a lot, you name it.”
Naithon silently rolled one sleeve to his elbow, then the other. O’Malley stiffened, knowing what that meant. Naithon said coolly, “You have nothing I can’t do, or get for myself.”
His eyes wide at Naithon’s big hand turning his sleeves up exposing brawny arms tainted with prison and gang tats. It was no secret in Louisiana that Naithon Adranokov had earned every one of his tattoos, and not in an easy way. Each inked picture or Romanian word or symbol proclaimed his butchering lethality. “But- but-” Patty sputtered. “Girls, I can get you girls, Adranokov, the cream of the crop.”
“I can get all the pussy I want, Patty.”
A slight smirk sneered up Patty’s face, due to the damage, only one side of his face lifted. “Ah, but I can get you young ones,” he tried to lean forward as if he was offering him a huge secret, a magnificent treasure. “I mean, really young, I got some at five, six, younger, tender babies-”
Blam-
Naithon’s fist pounded into O’Malley’s temple. Patty’s neck whipped to the side with the sheer ferocity and strength of it. Blood and sweat flew off with the blow spattering everyone close to him.
When his head snapped back forward, Naithon bent over and set his hands on top of O’Malley’s tied arms, and leaned his weight on his wrist bones, until cracks echoed off the walls.
His prisoner wailed, “Please! Please! I can get you childr-”
Whack-
This time Maz struck him, hard enough O’Malley almost blacked out.
“Don’t want him unconscious, boys,” Naithon muttered, and leaned back over, crushing O’Malley’s wrists more, more bones splintered under his weight, O’Malley shrieked in agony.
“Look at me, Patty, and keep your filthy mouth shut until I ask you my questions. I know you can guess what I will do to you, very, very slowly if you stonewall me.” He paused, O’Malley nodded, crying.
“First, give me the addresses where you’re keeping the females, all of the addresses, right now. Spit it out or I cut off your dick first before moving on to other parts. And, Patty,” Naithon leaned in close, making sure his prisoner heard and believed him. “You are one sick motherfucker that doesn’t belong walking this earth. So after your dick, I’ll chop off your legs. We’ll cauterize your flesh to staunch the bleeding, keep you alive for as long as I want.”
“Ah! Ah!” O’Malley wailed as Naithon crushed his wrists, his hands, he shouted, “Okay!” He rattled off a half dozen addresses. Yash was recording on his phone, and Vlad took out a notebook and handwrote the addresses.
When Patty was done spilling, Naithon punched him in the gut, and then hit him again. O’Malley heaved but didn’t puke. Naithon commanded, “Now, step by step, you tell me what happened that day at the wood chipper with Duce Delducci.”
O’Malley peered up at him through swollen eyes and a sweat soaked jumble of slimy hair. Sniffing hard then swallowing loudly, his eyes turned down, then back up to Naithon.
“Don’t try to fuck with me, Patty,” Naithon warned with another gut punch, “I already know Duce is still alive.” He sidestepped a slug of vomit that spewed out, Patty coughed, hacked. Naithon raised his fist, waiting for Patty to recoup.
O’Malley’s puffed eyes rounded. “How did you-” and gagged when Naithon hit him again.
“Just talk, Patty, all of it. Start at the beginning.” Naithon stood back, flexing his fingers. Yash retrieved a mop and bucket of water and efficiently cleaned up the mess Patty was making.
Sniffing noisily, swallowing blood and snot, O’Malley wiped his nose on his shoulder, leaving a smear of snotty blood on his skin. “Okay,” sucking in a raggedy breath, he stared at his knees while he spoke. “Me and Duce been workin’ a lot of shit together over the years. One day he told me his idea, this crazy scheme.” He swallowed some more, spat again but was careful to avoid hitting the men. The goop slapped on the floor to the side of his chair.
“Tell me the scheme,” Naithon barked raising his fist when the man stopped talking.
O’Malley jerked at his menacing voice, turned his head to deflect the blow. His face twisted to the side, his words blathered quickly, “Yeah, okay. So, he was snooping through his old man’s desk, well, broke in and rifled through his papers. Ignacio had been crying the money blues that they were in dire straits, but Duce found a couple of secret accounts loaded with dough.”
Excitement lifted his crusty voice. “I mean, millions, maybe hundreds of millions. Ignacio had told everyone the businesses were going into the red so he would have to pay his crew less, and he could siphon more.” He drew a wheezing breath then fell into a coughing jag.
Naithon waited for him to continue. He was giving him two seconds to speak then he was going to stab a knife into his leg and pin it to the chair, make him squeal like a pig.
With Naithon radiating such rage and disgust, O’Malley could feel the threat of his malevolency looming around him, searing his skin with his fury.
He cleared his throat, swallowed more gunk and spoke fast, “So, Duce wanted all of the dough for himself. He had this plan,” Patty wheezed in, sounded like a few broken ribs and maybe a collapsed lung. “He decided to kill all of his family members,” he glanced up at the other men’s muttered responses.
“Yeah, I told you, crazy. He figured he’d kill them all, then inherit everything.”
Naithon asked, “How could he inherit if he was dead?”
A grotesque grin showed broken teeth and a blood-filled mouth. “That’s the best part. He always had a thing for his baby sister. Like, you think I’m sick, he wanted to do his sister when she was like four or five or something, incest crap, and has never gotten over that he couldn’t get to her.”
“Which sister?”
O’Malley’s snort said are you kidding? “The older one is fat and plain as a stick, mean as a rattler, and from what I hear, the skankiest slut from hell. Was always climbing all over Duce, he hated it. Apparently incest lust runs in the family, buncha twisted motherfuckers. No, he wanted the youngest one, Kibly or something. He tried to get at her but Ignacio caught on. He had other plans for that daughter,” if his eye wasn’t so swollen it would be giving a leering wink.
After a drawn wheeze he went on, “The old man planned to sell her in marriage as soon as she was legal age. In the meantime he had shipped her off to some godforsaken, lockdown boarding school out in the middle of the Italian mountains. Out of Duce’s reach, and out of any other males’ reach too. Her virginity would bring him a higher price. The word is, the bitch is cock-stopping gorgeous.”
Naithon’s fists itched to pound the fucker sitting there beaten to gross pulp yet still cocky, and he couldn’t wait to get his claws on Duce. The things Naithon would do to him would make Jack the Ripper look like Barney the singing dinosaur. “What
does his hots for his sister have to do with the scheme? Get to it.”
Patty’s sigh ended in a choking coughing fit. The men stood back out of reach of his hurling blood.
When Patty got a grip, he wheezed, “He killed your men, Adranokov, as well as his own to divert suspicion from him. If he only murdered his family, the cops might start looking more closely into his death. His plan was that he would kill everyone except his little sister. She would inherit everything, then Duce would grab her, force her to sign it all over to him. Then he would transfer it to off-shore accounts under a false name.”
“And then kill his baby sister?” Naithon asked.
O’Malley shook his head, nasty sweaty hair slapped his face. “Naw. I told ya, the dude has it bad for Kirby or whatever her name is. After he got the money, he planned on keeping her. He didn’t need to kill her because he’d have the dough. He couldn’t let her go because she’d tell on him. As it turns out, he really wants to keep her. You know, like chained to his bed, so he could plow her whenever he felt like it.”
Blinking eyes that were almost completely shut, he tried to grin, but with torn up lips and missing teeth, the drool rolled out making his speech and expressions a sloppy mess.
He slurred, “See? Great plan, huh? Fuck, I never thought it would work, yet, he’s almost there. His brothers and father are dead, the older sister I guess is next, then he takes his little sister and flees to places unknown. Anywhere but America for sure. Smart dude, eh?” He grinned at Naithon like a bloody jack-o-lantern.
Suppressing the overwhelming urge to rip his head off his neck, Naithon said, “Tell me about the wood chipper. How did that go down?”
Rolling his head to stay alert, O’Malley stretched his neck that ached from the blows he’d taken, yet he seemed delighted and proud to tell him the story. “Yeah, dude is sharp as a tack, ya know? There were some men he did business with that he wanted out of the way. He set up a meeting, said he had info to give them that would bring them in tons of dough. The meeting was actually set at one of the dude’s places. He owned a wood mill.
“It made it appear more on the up and up that way. If it had been one of Duce’s places, they would think Duce could double-cross them. So, he looked innocent when he suggested the wood mill. Thinking he wasn’t setting them up then, they came willingly, and the stupid gullible fools didn’t bring their posses with them. Dollar signs made them blind to the dangerous duplicity. Plus, they all frisked each other to ensure no one was carrying, including Duce.
“When Duce got them all there, he pulled out a faked blueprint and set it on a barrel for them to all study. I was already hiding in the rafters before they even knew they were going there. Jako Martelli had his mill searched before they arrived, but the jerks didn’t think to look above them,” he scoffed with a raspy gurgled laugh.
“When they were all focused on the blueprint and unaware, I tossed a gun to Duce, and between us, Duce and me took ‘em all out. When they were dead, we fed ‘em to the chipper. Duce left his ring and belt buckle and cut his arm to leave some blood so they could identify him as one of the vic’s, and with my eyewitness testimony, it worked like a charm.
“My story was that as an officer, I had informants pointing the finger at Duce involving arms dealing, and I followed him to the meet. I told my chief that I had been hiding out down the road, waiting for them to get settled and involved in their meeting, and then I was gonna sneak up on ‘em, eavesdrop and bug ‘em. Record their meeting; see what could be used against them for a warrant.
“I claimed that when I heard gunfire, I raced to the scene, but when I got there, they were all in the chipper, and whoever put them down it was gone.”
The grin bloody, he drooled. Sucking back the blood, he said, “My chief bought my story, and would you believe they never caught the fucker who did the killing? My boy Duce is a cunning dude, eh?”
Naithon had to hang on just a little more. He pushed back hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand then propped his hands on his hips, his boots planted on the cement, he asked, “Where can I find Duce?”
O’Malley tried to shrug but with broken ribs and the strap around his lower chest it was more of a twitch than a shrug. Wincing in pain, he wheezed, “Have no idea. After the chipper shit, he paid me and disappeared. Heard he had a boat he might be living on. But it’s stolen, the owners…well, I guess they’re in watery graves. There’s no way to trace it.
“He mentioned once that he has a false passport and open tickets to Portugal. He’s in the wind, a ghost, fell off the face of the earth, and I have no way to contact him. Not that I’d want to. I hid out myself for quite a while figuring knowing Duce, he planned on eliminating any loose ends. I don’t understand how your people found me.”
Patty’s bleeding lips pushed up into a smug toothless smile, like he was also a clever man. He squinted through the blood, then frowned. “Listen, Adranokov, you may be tough shit, but I ain’t testifying against Duce if he’s ever found and caught, he’d have me killed in a New York minute. Besides,” he huffed a weak breath, “so many lies, no one would believe any of us anyway, eh?”
Naithon hauled his fist back and slammed it into O’Malley’s nose. Patty’s hoarse screams railed off the walls.
Picking up one of the towels stacked on the wooden table, Naithon dipped it in a bowl of water then wiped his hands and tossed the towel on the table. Turning his back to Patty, he said to his men, “Get the girls and children out of the brothels. After you verify that’s all of them, do what you want to him, then take him to the acid pit.”
He decided he wanted to have cleaner hands, in more ways than one, when he saw Kiri. She would be sick and repulsed if she thought he’d tortured and killed the man. Of course that was what was going to happen, but not with Naithon’s hands. His conscience was almost clear as he strode up the stairs, O’Malley’s screams ripping after him.
When he entered their suite, Naithon was prepared to find either a spitting mad Kiri, or be frozen out for not allowing her to go with him downstairs. Surprisingly, she was sitting in the living room with a sketchpad on her knees. Leaning over it, she was drawing, and writing, furiously. On the coffee table in front of her sat her laptop, he could see the glow from the monitor.
Closing the door softly, he kicked off his boots and padded over to her. He thought she would ignore him, but, she rendered a vague half-smile, and blinked as if to clear her head and bring him into focus. Setting the pencil on the pad, she asked, “Did you get what you wanted?”
“Ja,” he answered, heading for the hall to the bedroom. “I need to…clean up, I’ll be right back and tell you.” Naithon had crossed his arms over his chest to hide the worst of Patty’s blood, and cover the marks and blood on his knuckles.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, he returned to the living room combing his wet hair back with his fingers. Tugging the knees of his jeans up, he sat down beside her on the sofa and told her what Patty O’Malley had confessed.
After Naithon had left the basement, as they separated to go their own ways, Mazonn had his phone to his ear and was barking out orders to begin raids on the addresses O’Malley had given of the brothels. He also reluctantly called the police, the victims would need medical care when rescued, and families located.
When Naithon told her that after Duce killed everyone, her brother’s plan was that he would take Kiri and force her to turn the inheritance over to him, her mouth dropped open, long lashes fanned straight up.
She put a palm to her forehead and sat with her back against the couch. “Oh, Naithon, how could he? Trafficking in children?” Up until she’d seen Naithon’s ominous expression when he came in, she had held out hope that what they suspected wasn’t true.
“Baby, you know what a truly bad man your brother was. He cared about nothing but making bucks, fucking broads and living large.” He didn’t tell her Duce’s plan to keep her chained to his bed and violate her body as he pleased. It was bad enough
she knew he wanted all the Delduccis dead.
Naithon himself wasn’t a nice guy either, but he never preyed on the innocents, especially women and children. His gut still felt raw at the shit O’Malley had spilled about Duce, and about Patty’s own despicable exploits with the children they had forced into prostitution and turned into junkies.
A shade of guilt sifted in, he had taken an innocent woman, Kiri, and originally had thought nothing of planning to force her to have sex with him. Abducting her was bad enough, at least he hadn’t raped her. It gave him the sick chills now to even think about assaulting her. Maybe her goodness was rubbing off on him. That wouldn’t be good for business, but it might save his soul.
Settling his back against the sofa cushions, he said, “I need to brainstorm with my guys about how to convince Duce that your da and Janero are dead, and, figure out a way to flush him out before he kills again.” He nodded to her sketchpad. “You getting some work done?”
Kiri gripped the edges of the pad with tense fingers. “Sort of. I have an idea on how to resolve both of your problems.”
Dark blond brows moved up in curiosity. “Oh yeah, tell me, lamb.”
The edge of her pretty lips kicked up in a tight smile. “You aren’t going to like the second part. So, I’ll tell you the first part.”
His brows dipped down into a frown, then leveled out as Kiri held up her pad to show him what she had been working on. She had drawn figures, and there was a numbered list of products. “You know what I do with my craft, creating fake food and photographing it for ads and stuff, some even to be displayed in bakery windows.”
He smiled with pride. “Ja. You are very talented.”
With her, “Thanks,” her smile brightened somewhat. “But I also have done scenes that included landscapes, animals and people. I can make…fake people. I think I can make effigies of my dad and Janero. You know, like in a wax museum?”
Distilled Duplicity Page 28
