Accidental Mobster (24 page)

Ray continues to wave the gun around and scream profanities as several mobsters roughly pull Vince off Ray. I want to help Vince, but I quickly realize that Julia and I will not even be able to make it to Gino. The remaining mobsters are circling us like hungry dogs. I glance around—but no one can help us. Frank is being pummeled by three of Ray's men.
Cowards,
I think.
It takes three of you to even bring him down.
We are defeated. A small, steely-eyed mobster reaches out to grab Julia's arm. She shrieks and jumps back as he leaps after her. She backs into another mobster who jerks her arms behind her back and starts dragging her toward Gino. Two other mobsters grab me, and although I struggle and manage to kick one of them hard in the knee, I can't escape as they drag me toward Gino as well. Three men are needed to control the thrashing Vince. The three of us are thrown on the floor next to Gino. I see tears streaming down Julia's face, and Vince stops struggling as he kneels by Gino's head. I'm terrified that Gino might already be dead. What have I done?

Ray, his face cut and bleeding, stands before us, his eyes murderous. I instinctively know what is coming. I prepare myself for what may be my last moments of life.

“That's it, I'm finishing him off,” Ray snarls, pointing the gun at Gino's head.

“No!” I yell, jumping in front of Gino.

Ray studies me, his eyes glinting. “I prefer for others to do the dirty work around here. That's the way the mob is supposed to work. Even a small one like we have here in Newcastle. But I believe you deserve my ‘special' attention. I might have let you live had you accepted your godfather's execution with dignity, but you're as stupid as he is. So, if I've got to get my hands dirty, who better to start with than the son of the man I want dead more than any other.”

Ray trains the gun on my head, pointing it between my eyes. I feel my body go rigid with horror. I can't survive this shot. It's over.

But Ray never fires. The walls of the diner explode inward. Bricks fly through the air, striking mobsters like bowling pins. The Vigliottis and I duck down, covering our heads and shielding Gino from the onslaught. I'm struck on the shoulder by flying debris, and I gasp in pain. I turn my head to see the cause of the destruction and discover Tony and Portia scrambling out of the van that just smashed into the front of the diner. The crash is enough to make most of the mobsters bolt. They scatter like ants in a hundred directions, leaving behind their flustered leader, who has been pinned by a table, and the unconscious Donny.

“Get back here,” Ray screams at their fleeing backs, but not one of them even slows at the sound of his infuriated voice. Ray howls in frustration and points his gun at Gino. “This is all your fault!” he shrieks.

Ray aims at Gino's head this time, but I'm ready. I leap from the floor and slam my body into the trapped underboss. Ray fires but misses Gino's head by several feet, his bullet puncturing a chair. Vince is at my side, and before Ray can regroup, he stomps on Ray's hand, forcing him to let go of his gun. Vince snatches the gun and points it at Ray's head. I immediately see the danger in what Vince is thinking. “Hey, Vince. Why don't you hand me that?” I say as calmly as I can manage.

“He shot my dad. Ray Gallo deserves to die,” Vince responds, his voice hard, unforgiving.

“This is not the way, Vince. Let him pay by being humiliated. Let him know what it's like to be a nobody,” I plead.

“Come on, Vince. Just give the gun to Danny and we can go home!” Portia says, now beside us. Tony is across the room, surveying the damage from the van, and Julia is kneeling next to Gino.

Vince glares down at the fallen underboss, and I think that perhaps he is not acting out of emotion. Instead, Vince seems to be enjoying this moment, as though playing a part in the mob stories he loves so much. He moves the barrel slightly to the right and fires, causing Ray, and everyone else, to jump. Vince laughs like a lunatic and hands the pistol to Portia.

“Gallo, you big chicken. You're through!”

Portia shoots Vince the
you're crazy
look and turns to me. “Sorry about the van. We didn't know what else to do. But we heard everything before the transmitter was destroyed, and then, as we tried to figure out what to do, we heard that horrible gunshot—and we had to do something!”

“It was a risk, but you did the right thing. We still need help though!” I say desperately, turning toward Gino.

“We called the police, but I'm not sure they thought we were serious. I'm going to run down to the convenience store and try to get an ambulance here!” Tony says as he comes up beside us, glancing at Gino. Julia is holding her sweatshirt to her father's side. The amount of blood is alarming. Vince is now beside her, his hand on his father's shoulder. Frank limps over, his face scratched and bleeding. “Let me see what I can do until they get here,” he says, moving toward Gino.

But before Tony can take two steps toward the door, a commotion in front of the diner causes us to cringe, preparing ourselves for another onslaught of mob fury. I also hear noise coming from the door behind us. Is Capriotti still here? Surely he must have escaped by now. We wait anxiously, but instead of angry mobsters, men in helmets and shields file into the diner through the hole the van created. I see the words SWAT splashed across a bulletproof vest.

“Cavalry's arrived,” Vince says, moving his body between the formidable newcomers and his fading father. I hear Frank yelling directions to the SWAT team. The men surround us, but Frank limps over and shoves them aside. “Get out of the way! Make room for the paramedics!”

The men from SWAT move to take charge of Ray and Donny as paramedics flow through the door and hurry to Gino, pushing us out of the way. I work my way toward Frank and motion to the back room. “I think Capriotti's still here!”

Frank doesn't hesitate for a moment. He limps through the growing crowd of federal agents, cops, and paramedics to the back door. I follow, looking for any distraction from the cold reality that my godfather might be dying—and knowing it's my fault. Frank bursts through the back door, and I almost plow right into him as I follow. The agent has stopped just a few feet into the room because the area is shrouded in darkness, except for a sliver of light escaping from the dining room through the slats in the bathroom. I brush past Frank, who whips toward me with his gun.

“Frank, it's me—Danny!” I say quickly, backing away from the agent. “Hold on—there's a light over here.” I shuffle through the room toward the light switch at the back.

“Danny! I could have shot you. You shouldn't be back here.”

“It's no big deal,” I reply, reaching for the switch. I flick it up and find myself staring into the barrel of a small handgun, which extends from an agitated Mark Capriotti.

“Put it down, Mark,” Frank warns, his gun trained on Capriotti's head.

“No way. He's my ticket out of here.”

“How's that?” Frank answers, moving closer.

“Stay away!” Capriotti yells, glancing nervously at the advancing agent. I glance nervously too—doesn't Frank care if I die?

“You're not going to shoot him,” Frank states. “Right now the charges against you will only keep you penned up for a few years. A murder charge, however, might go another way.”

Capriotti sneers at me. “This kid has messed up everything. I want him dead.” His finger moves imperceptibly on the trigger.

“I'd hoped to see you in court, but I'm not that particular about how I take you down,”

Frank threatens. Capriotti screws up his face angrily and starts to pull back the trigger. In less than an instant, I am struck by something heavy and melt into the ground. As I hit the floor, my head explodes with pain. And then, everything is black.

* * * *

The hospital in Newcastle smells like antiseptic and lime jello. At least, that's what I think as I survey the too white room with a large window, a tiny television, and an awkwardly hung picture of random flowers. I lean back in my wheelchair in which the nurse has forced me to sit because of my injury. But I almost jump out of it when I'm startled by a familiar voice.

“Well, you're doing better than expected. Always knew you were a fighter.” Gino has just awoken in his hospital bed. Even though I've been waiting for him to wake, I find that I am afraid to speak to him.

“Hi, Gino.”

“Hey,” he answers as I wheel my chair closer to his bed. I feel exposed in my blue hospital gown.

“How are you?” I ask.

“Feeling better every minute. I heard you had quite the time, though.”

“Who told you?”

“Frank. He said he had to shoot Capriotti to save you, but the DA took you down with him as he fell. You would have been fine had you not hit your head on a crate,” Gino summarizes.

I nod and hold back a laugh. That stupid crate had found yet another way to cause me pain.

“But you're okay?” I ask, overwhelmed that this man sitting in front of me had been on the verge of death. I have already spoken to the other Vigliottis. Ronnie still doesn't understand quite what happened at the diner that night, but something tells me she is just grateful that her family survived whatever it was. She hasn't been too intent on grilling us for details, which makes me think she suspects we just barely escaped criminal activity that we may or may not have been a part of. However, this is the first time I have been allowed to talk to Gino, three days after
that
night.

“Well, I'm alive,” Gino replies. “Ray must have been really off his game to take a shot like that. The bullet just missed my heart, but I lost a lot of blood and broke two ribs.”

“Thanks to me,” I say glumly.

“Thanks to you, I didn't get shot in the head. Vince told me you saved my life.”

“Did he say anything else?” I ask, wondering whether Vince told his father I had been talking to law enforcement. Vince had yet to speak to me, treating me with atypical coolness. Gino sighs. “Danny, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Frank told me everything. You became a little mobster yourself—manipulating everyone—quite by accident, it seems.”

I cringe at being compared with a mobster. “I didn't realize you already spoke to Frank. So I guess the FBI will take me away now. And I bet you'll be glad.”

“Danny, Frank's not charging me. He said he got what the FBI wanted, and he said he owed you a favor for not turning him over to Capriotti. I'm guessing I'm that favor, and for that, I owe you. You're staying with us—unless you want to leave.”

I straighten in my chair. “No, I don't want to leave. But you'll never trust me again. You hate rats.”

“I despise rats, Danny. But, I trust you with my life—and I owe your father and mother, who by the way, was here just a few minutes ago. She ran down to the cafeteria to grab coffee. She's very nervous to see you.”

“She said I could stay? Even after all this?” I ask.

“She doesn't have a place for you. Del is living at your old house, and Penny is with a friend. She could stay with us, but she doesn't want to live in Newcastle. Too much history for her, I think. Plus, she said she's started seeing someone again, and she thinks you'll be upset about it.”

Doonesby
, I think. Mom's seeing him again? I'm not sure how I feel about it now—I have a new sense of what my mom has gone through in her life.

“Your parents are getting divorced, Danny,” Gino says softly.

“But Del's not really my dad, is he,” I say. It's not a question.

“No, Danny. He isn't.”

“My dad was a mobster.”

Gino sighs again and stares out the window. “Your father, Mike Esposito, was a good man. And I wasn't a good enough friend. So I've got to make it up to him by taking care of you. And the thing is—I like having you around because you remind me of him—so it doesn't feel like I'm doing him a favor at all.”

I turn my head away and try to contain all the emotions churning in me. “What happened to my dad?”

Gino stares at the ceiling. “I don't know. Nobody knows if he's dead or alive. As for what happened before he disappeared, that's between him and me.” His jaw is hard and his voice tight. I know I won't get the information I so desperately want to hear. Another thought occurs to me. “You didn't take me in to see if it would lead you to him, did you?” I ask, wondering whether Gino's good nature had an underlying, darker motive. Gino seems taken aback by my insinuation. “Danny, you're with us because I need to do something right by your parents. But you're more than a favor—I like having you with us,”

his voice is low, struggling against some strong emotion. I know these words are hard for a tough guy like Gino.

“So what happens for you now?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Well, I don't know,” Gino says, shrugging. I look at him sharply and wonder whether Gino is going to use his free pass to get out of the mob lifestyle. Is he in danger because he was connected to the undercover? Do the others consider him a rat? Will he survive all of this? I'm smart enough to know that Gino would never tell me one way or another.

“How about Ronnie?” I ask. “Are you going to come clean with her about all this?”

Gino's eyes narrow. “She knows as much as she needs—and wants—to know,” he replies vaguely. “Hey, I have some news about some folks that I think you'll really like,” he says abruptly.

“Yeah?” I ask, letting him change the subject.

Gino nods. “First, I thought you'd like to know that a certain DA's assistant was arrested this morning at the Newcastle Mall. Apparently, Ms. Kluwer was helping her boss.”

I laugh this time. “That
is
good news.”

“Do you know why she was so interested in you, from the beginning?” Gino asks. I shake my head.