Atavus (25 page)

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Authors: S. W. Frank

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #International Mystery & Crime, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Suspense

BOOK: Atavus
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Selange wiped her eyes. She saw the knife cutting through her flesh and said to the guardian enforcer. “I will not lie to my husband Nico because I will not read. That is my answer. It is your protection and mine. My devotion is to Alfonzo and I will never falter again. That’s the
right
I will forever choose.”  Selange reached for the door. She had lingered long enough. She looked over her shoulder at Nico. “Put your heart to rest Nico. There is a time I believed I loved you as much as my husband. Since then I have grown to understand a strong love survives the worst. We have caused suffering but have a second chance to heal the wounds we caused. If you feel unworthy of love’s passion then you will wilt beneath its force and exacerbate an infection. Cling to Ari’s love as I have to Alfonzo because there is a salve when hearts unify. The force is great against adversaries. Betray my husband or squander my kindness and your death will be as violent as you have lived by our hands!” 

The door closed with the quietest of clicks. A silent demolition can cause destruction, he understood firsthand about such devices.

Nico’s eyebrow rose. Selange had seen through his ruse to solicit information. He exited the house before the staff witnessed his departure, chuckling at the girl oh yeah –
woman
.

All she had to say is ‘go to hell Nico,’ but no, she had to go and threaten him with
double
death. Now is that any way to treat her best friend and a loyal Protezione, eh? He wondered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sergio’s smile faded. His wife Lucia had taken the baby out shopping and attached a note to the wall so he’d find it the moment he entered. He told Lucia repeatedly about doing that mess, but Lucia’s that Sicilian Mafia Princess type that believes she is untouchable based on who she is. Well, hadn’t that theory been killed many times over?

He called her on the cell and her sweet voice was irritating. She manipulated the situation with her use of sexual deprivation as a weapon. Whenever they disagreed, she’d pout those luscious lips, turn and sway her round bottom in his face as she marched into another room. She refused to talk or have sex until he apologized and gave her what she wanted. Italian women are masters of provocative exploitation. They’re well aware of their loveliness and feminine sensuality. They’re definitely Aphrodite’s children.

“Return, ora,” Sergio said the moment she answered and disconnected before she had a chance to protest and make him feel bad.

However, he felt terrible when he went to fetch food and stopped cold when he saw the dining table. Flowers, wine, smoked meats with baguettes, and vegetables with a cigar adorned the shiny wood. There sat a second note that read with consideration to her husband’s unspoken desire to have a few moments of alone time to unwind.

He lifted the note and frowned. Wow, he loved the shit out of Lucia. The ratchet girls he dated would have had a bunch of friends in the house, eager to leave him to hang out with the baby as soon as he stepped in the home. 

Mi amore.  Enjoy your cigar while I am out. Kisses
!
    

 

Sergio took advantage of daddy hour and called Lucia back to apologize after making a thick sandwich.

“Ah, bello, I suspected you had not found my surprise yet. You are forgiven bello. I will buy you something nice, ciao amore.”

“Ciao,” he said as he chewed. For real? She would buy him something for acting a fool, okay, I’m staying with her for sure, he thought. Feeling good was short-lived when his Uncle Nico appeared uninvited at his door with an expression that suggested he was on a deadly mission.

Nico had looked around. “Enjoying married life nipote?”

“Sure am,” Sergio said after reclaiming a seat at the table to pour wine.

“I need your assitance on a job.”

“Sorry, Unk but I don’t have the stomach for butchering up people. Now if someone’s shooting at us, that’s different. I’ll be there in a heartbeat but the kind of murdering you do, it’s sick.”

Nico took a seat, fingering the unwrapped cigar, the run of the mill brand, and scoffed after discreetly reading Lucia’s message. “I’m glad you’re aware of your weaknesses. Only a big man admits he has any.”

Sergio drank the spirits in a gulp. “I’m glad you’re glad. Anyway, you have a bunch of soldati and what about Tony?”

There was a scowl. “Tony’s not family.” By now, Nicole had already received a message on her voicemail from her sister saying she and Tony were elongating their honeymoon and going in hibernation for a week or so and she’ll call her the day of the party. Yeah, Nico was aware of the surprise bash his wife had in store. He’d be there but Tony and a few others wouldn’t.

The small devices in those phones had already corroded the chips and the cells. For noise and environmental reasons, he didn’t want to burn the place, instead he used an expansive grout that is for silent demolitions. Disruptions are kept to a minimum. The grout cracks the surface, demolishing large boulders and concrete reducing objects to rubble.

He’d taken some from one of Alfonzo’s construction sites a while back and stored it in that shed. That secluded villa was one of many safe houses he and Vincent had spread about Italy. Leveling it with bodies wasn’t anything he had planned until Tony fucked up and left him no choice.

Sergio shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s not family and what I need to get done requires a family member to assist. It’s hush-hush.”

Sergio offered Nico a bite of his food and Nico declined, watching Sergio with those  dark coals that made people feel ill at ease.

“Well, what’s this job you need me for?” Sergio asked, devoid of his usual jovialty.

Nico always smirked at the ‘pretty boy’ never wanting to get his hands dirty. Sitting in one of those offices of Alfonzo’s maintained his somewhat lavish lifetyle that Lucia benefitted from, settling for a Giacanti however young when what she had been after for years was Giuseppe. Yeah, his nipote was pussy whipped as the kids say, and bad.

“Why…why…why?” Nico growled, thinking of how earlier today he heard Selange ask the same question. They didn’t need the particulars, but on this occasion he tested the ‘pretty boy’s’ allegiance. “I believe one or all of the DeMarco’s might be pulling the wool over our eyes and I intend to find out which one?”

Sergio pushed back his seat. “Hold up, hold up Nico. You’re talking crazy. Does Alfonzo know that’s what you believe? Do you have any proof whatsoever before you going making roadkill of people?”

“Proof?” He chortled and stood. “Sergio…Sergio…Sergio the time has come for you to remove your head from between Lucia’s pussy and return to the game."

"Unk, I don't want any part of what you're doing. The shits crazy. You're crazy!"

Nico elbowed the food out of his nephew. When Sergio stood up his hands went in the air to surrender when he saw the barrel of Nico's gun. "Calm down Unk, chill. I'm family...I'm family!"

"What's crazy is you really don't believe I'll kill your ass. Family is a unit and you've proven you don't belong," Nico snarled. He pressed the barrel to Sergio's skull and pulled the trigger. 

Clack.

No bullet emitted. Sergio shivered but he had never gazed anywhere but Nico’s face. He sank to his seat, speechless.

Nico reholstered the empty gun. “You know Sergio, your dad and I had a bond. There isn’t anybody I trusted more than him.” Nico sat, spreading his legs wide to avoid the gunk on the floor and reached for the uneaten sandwich in Sergio’s plate. He ate, observing the perspiration rolling from his nephew’s head, seeing rain on a window instead of flesh. “Um, that was good.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin and then stood to get water from the fridge, glancing over his shoulder at the kid as he guzzled from the bottle before tossing it away.

“Why do you do crazy things to people Unk? What happened that you can’t see there’s something twisted about the things you’re doing?” Sergio voiced.

Nico strolled over, folded his arms and stared at his nephew. “Who said I’m unaware? I’m doing what many don’t have the stomach to do Sergio. It’s kept you alive and this family for years. That’s what you need to understand. Your dad did. When I went to my brother for aid, he never once asked a question. He trusted me the way I trusted him. I don’t ask favors of friends, Serge. When I step to a person to ask for their help, know I do so rarely and it’s because I love and trust you because you’re family.”

“Then you pull a gun.”

“Unloaded.”

“How would I know and what if I pulled mine?”

“Then I’d have a hole –well maybe. You can’t shoot that good, you might’ve missed you were so damn scared.”

“You’re really crazy Unk.”

“You said that all ready. Go back to your meal and clean up the mess before your wife thinks you didn’t appreciate the appeasement as she spends your money at high end stores.”

Sergio’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say she was out shopping? How did you know that?”

“Why do you think I visited when I did?”

“You’re spying on me Unk?”

“I try to keep tabs on everybody, that’s my job.” Nico tossed one of his cigars on the table. “This is a better brand. No hard feelings young buck. Don’t worry, I’m not so crazy I’d kill you when your wife is on her way home.” He headed for the door. “By the way, give me your answer at the party. Time’s a ticking if you want to stay in those fancy duds.”

“You know about the party?”

“Sergio, there’s not much I don’t and when I’m stumped about something I tend to investigate.”

Nico departed and Sergio slumped forward chucking the rest of his food across his feet. His Uncle was insane if he thought he’d participate in going behind Alfonzo’s back to kill Bruno or his sons. For crying out loud, Alfonzo loved his mother and what Nico suggested could result in this being his last meal, Sergio deliberated.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The earth doesn’t shatter from the core. However, the quakes sending unseen ripples beneath Giuseppe’s feet shivered the grass as he walked. He peered up at the nice establishment, not hidden in some basement of a business or concrete building in a busy piazza. The gentleman’s club occupied an estate with the outward appearance of many of the austere homes along the coast of Palermo. Tall shrubbery, strategically planted inside and outside walls on acres of rock and earth are nature’s sentry for occupants residing within. Giuseppe was certain there were cameras along with contingency plans for immediate evacuation in the event law enforcement converged
.

He tapped his shoe impatiently on gravel as the guard fumbled with the gate after he gave his name. He had no code other than Don Dichenzo to gain access to Yosef’s lair.

Burly men accompanied him, he led front and center. If he were to receive a bullet, to the head would be most deadly for it would not penetrate the specialty vest.

Yosef’s manager Eisbär greeted him at the door. “Shalom Don Dichenzo. My boss is in a meeting, he will be out shortly.”

Giuseppe’s shoes crunched the terracotta floor as Eisbär led the way to a luxurious sitting room off the main entry. The furnishings were as supple as a woman’s breasts on display in pictures meant to entice horny men. Giuseppe refused to sit; he did not want invisible semen on his clothes. Instead, he told Eisbär, “Let my Jewish step-papa know I am very impatient.”

Eisbär exited, Giuseppe gave him a head start and then followed him to the back, pushing him through the door that he opened. He snarled at the group, sitting in their finery around a decorative Roman table. Some he knew by name, others were unfamiliar.

Yosef did not rise. He gave an order to Eisbär who backed out and closed the door, leaving Giuseppe in the company of many Mafiosi.

“Have a seat Don Giuseppe,” Yosef said magnanimously.

Giuseppe strolled in and walked behind each chair, memorizing faces, speaking the names of those he knew aloud until he reached Yosef. A banquet of oysters and Dom Perignon, he had sat at such meetings. La Cupola –a commission –gatherings of Mafia families from across Sicily to discuss business plans or executions is its function. Usually, he sat at the head, not a foreigner with a yarmulke.

“I find I am an uninvited guest. This insults me Yosef.”

“This is a private meeting about business not plots as you infer by your stance.”

Giuseppe folded his arms. “My stance is not to be misconstrued, what I say should be what you hear. I have a reputation of being abrasive and rude; I prefer to think I am straightforward in speech. It is unsophisticated and plain for the slowest fool to comprehend. Deceptive people use flattery and smiles to disguise their intent.”

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