Chapter Nineteen
~Jeff~
Though from the perspective of others, I appeared calm, cool, and collected, on the inside I was shaking so hard it was a wonder my ribs weren’t rattling. I was so nauseated, I could puke as this guy Roberto, who I assumed to be the head man, invited us into a back room behind the dish pit of the restaurant. He obviously spoke no English, his translator hanging off his every word, repeating each sentence verbatim. I spoke a touch of Italian, thanks to my grandmother on my mother’s side, and picked up on the words shoot the blond and could feel the heat of panic rising up from my belly.
“Whoa!” I held up my hands. “We had a deal. Dirmi che mi sbagliavo.”
“You were not wrong,” Roberto said, with a smile. “I was testing.”
“You don’t trust me?” I asked, fear for my life being the only reason I was able to talk at all.
“Do not take my feeling of you personally,” Roberto waved his translator away, resting his arm over my shoulders and directing me to walk with him. “For me, I trust no one. But you-” he eyeballed me, then slapped my cheek hard with the open palm of his hand and pointed his finger in my face. “You I like… for now. Cross me,” he tipped his head and shrugged lazily. “And you die. Simple, no?”
“Yes, sir,” I was quick to agree. He scared the ever loving shit out of me.
“You have my money?” Roberto asked.
When Martinez stepped forward holding a beat up black briefcase, Roberto let his arm fall away, the sudden loss of weight freeing my senses, my rattled nerves attempting to calm. Mesmerized as Martinez clicked open the latches and turned the case to face Roberto, he lifted the lid and I openly gasped.
The fucker was filled with shredded newspaper.
Roberto instead of reaching over and tearing my head off, began a full belly laugh, holding his stomach as he clasped his other hand on my shoulder and he bent forward. He was the only one laughing, the only one to find humor in the blood curdling moment. Every eye in the room searched every other eye in the room. An oppressive eerie knowing silence fell over us. Even I could smell the scent of eminent death approaching.
“What the fuck?” I asked Martinez. “Where’s the money, man?”
“Change of plans,” Martinez pulled a gun from his waist, as did every man in the room except Roberto and myself.
“Kill him!” Roberto ordered through grit teeth.
“You can’t kill me,” Martinez held his gun to my temple. “Because if I die, so does he. And if he dies Milano blows your compound sky high. Check it out.”
Martinez held up his cell phone to display a man standing with a smile on his face. His thumb was hovering over a detonator, and a woman bound and gagged sat beside him, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Momma!” Roberto cried out painfully.
“That’s right,” Martinez confirmed. “We have your sweet, old momma, and your precious compound has been wired with enough explosives to take out the entire Sicilian coast. So, as I see it, I’m going to have your full cooperation.”
“I will play this game,” Roberto snarled, his nostrils flared, his eyes blazing with fire. “What are these demands?”
“I want the code,” Martinez stared down Roberto while he considered his request.
Sweat drizzled into my eyes. I blinked wildly as the salty liquid stung blurring my vision. The stalemate between the two men seemed to last a painfully long time. What was this code and once Martinez had it would he let us go? But with a gun held to my head, it could be the code to unlocking the mysteries of the universe and the only thing I was interested in was getting the fuck out of there alive.
Then Roberto spoke, causing me to jump out of my thoughts.
“Release Momma, and I give you the code.”
Martinez clicked his tongue. “Not how it works. You give me the code and once my men are inside then and only then does momma go free.”
“How do I believe you to keep your word?”
Martinez shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to take your chances. Weigh your options carefully. How willing are you to risk the compound and your momma’s life? I want the code to that vault. I’ll do what I have to.”
Vault.
“Fine,” Roberto caved, his shoulder held back feigning confidence that flew out the window when he saw his loving mother.
Snapping his fingers, one of Martinez’s faithful men handed him a small notepad and pen. He handed them to Roberto with a victorious smirk. Another of his men opened a laptop and sat watching and waiting like a good puppy licking his lips for a snack from master. The room was stinking of mob and fear.
“You made the right decision.” Martinez’s eyes followed the pen in Roberto’s hand as he scribed the code onto the notepad.
“Happy man now?” Roberto asked, handing the notepad to Martinez who passed it to the guy at the laptop.
“Not yet,” Martinez narrowed his eyes. “But I’m getting close. Cross your fingers boys, because if this doesn’t work you’re all going to see a side of me you won’t like.”
There was a side to this asshole I would like? I thought to myself, holding back a rush of nervous laughter as beads of sweat began to trickle down my back.
The only sound in the room was the clicking of the keys on the laptop and the sound of my heart beating in my ears. I allowed my eyes to close saying a silent prayer and hoping to God that Roberto wasn’t fucking around and actually gave Martinez the proper code to this enigmatic vault.
“He’s in, sir,” the guy with the laptop confirmed.
“What you wanted is yours,” Roberto scowled, his voice filled with malice and loathing. “Release my momma and let us go.”
“You seem to forget who’s in charge here,” Martinez’s chuckle sounded murderous. He nodded and his men stepped out of the shadows, guns drawn. “Take them to the catacombs, use the tunnels, and then kill them. And dispose of the bodies properly this time. I don’t need them washing up on shore and causing more problems… Oh, and instruct Tony to let momma go, she has served her purpose well. Just knowing that she’ll soon be grieving her loss is satisfaction enough.”
“Bastardo!” Roberto roared as he sprang towards Martinez, arms outstretched and fingers ready to claw him to death. One of Martinez’s men grabbed Roberto, spinning him away and slamming him against the far wall. Turmoil followed as everyone sprang head first into defense mode. Knowing you were going to die did that to you, gave you a false sense of courage and strength you didn’t know you possessed. I guess it had a lot to do with adrenaline coursing through your system, so I remembered reading somewhere.
Fists were flying, arms and legs flailing as an almighty crash and the reverberation of a gun firing immediately ceased the upheaval.
~
~Nolan~
“What was that?” I asked, though I knew. My question was more a statement as we dropped to the ground, all eyes sweeping in the direction of the back door to the hotel’s kitchen.
“Gun fire, stay down,” a man dressed in black like all the others instructed as he aimed his sniper-style rifle towards the door.
We watched as at least a dozen more men piled in through the door, rifles and guns readied. Talk about overkill, I thought, as I wrapped my arm over Devan’s shoulder because he was shaking terribly.
There were several more bursts of gunfire, I noticed Pete laying facedown under the tail end of the Rover, his arms shielding his head. Bailey was squatted behind the Rover talking with a man who was obviously acting as the go-between as the man relayed what Bailey was telling him into a cell phone.
Why did time stand still at the most inopportune moments? Trepidation had us waiting, hoping and praying for this night to come to a happy ending. If I never saw another island resort or went on another vacation again, it would be too soon. Next time work offered to send us together on a work-action, my answer was going to be the speediest no, they wouldn’t even see it coming.
I met Bailey’s eyes and he winked, his attempt at comforting me from a distance. I looked at his prosthetic leg and noticed a red smear. I looked at him inquiringly. He laughed.
“Clocked one of Martinez’s guys,” he explained and I puffed out a laugh.
“Clear!” we heard a chain of voices yell before several of the men dressed in black stepped out the door. “We’re going to need medical services, stat!”
“What? Who?” Pete jumped to his feet. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Pete!” Bailey yelled, as Pete raced towards the door, being tackled to the ground no more than a yard away. “Pete is out of his mind, I thought he was at the hotel.”
“Obviously the idiot came back.”
A wall of men swiftly closed in, removing us from the area as the door flew open and medical services moved in. We waited for hours in the hotels main dining room, which had basically been evacuated and recreated as a makeshift holding station and interrogation room. We gave statements, answered a plethora of questions, and waited some more. No one would tell us a thing, but we did overhear three men talking and confirm that there were at least four dead and someone in critical condition, not expected to live. There was no news regarding Jeff.
Several hours later we were taken to our respective rooms and watched by surly faced guards while we packed our things, then we were escorted to a waiting boat.
“I’m not going anywhere without Jeff,” Pete dug his heels in, ready for a fight. “Someone tell me what the fuck is going on, is Jeff dead or what?”
Looking from one another for answers, we stood in a row defiantly; we were not going to be moved without answers. United we stood.
“You’re going to have to drag us onto that boat, because we’re not moving until we find out what happened to our friend, Jeff,” I could feel my chest puff out, brave and sure as we linked arms, as if it were a demonstration to save a tree from being chopped down. “Where the hell is he?”
~
~Bailey~
“Take it easy, Doc,” a voice called from the boat sitting at the dock. “I’m here and I’m alive. And I want to fucking go home, so get on this boat.”
We were on the boat in a matter of minutes. Pete raced to Jeff and crushed him in a loving embrace. They could say what they liked but they were two straight men who loved each other to death.
“You okay?” Nolan asked Jeff, as he ruffled his hair since no one could get close enough for a hug with Pete glued to him.
“No bullet wounds if that’s what you’re asking,” Jeff snorted, peeling Pete off his side like a second skin. “There won’t be a whole lot of sleeping getting done for a while though.”
“We’ll talk,” Nolan offered with a knowing smile.
“Gentlemen.”
Each of us cringed as we turned in the direction of the speaker. Hart stood there with a grin, Deval at his side. They looked pleased with themselves as Hart stepped closer offering his hand.
“Lose that greeting, will ya?” I encouraged as I shook his hand. “Wish it had been better circumstances for a reunion.”
“Next time,” Hart slapped his hand against my bicep. “But don’t hold your breath, I’m going away for a while.”
“Assignment?”
Hart looked over to Deval, a look of secrecy I knew from our past. He wasn’t going to clarify, so there was no sense asking.
“Assignment,” he confirmed.
“I assume the mess here has been cleaned up?” I asked, hoping like hell they both told me yes.
“Roberto Thalis is dead,” Deval confirmed.
“And he is?” Nolan asked.
“Better left in the morgue,” Hart joked, though it sent a shiver quaking its way along my spine. “Listen, you are all lucky to be leaving here alive, Roberto Thalis was one hell of a dangerous man. Head of one of the largest drug cartels in Europe, he was working his way to States. Jeff here was Martinez’s scapegoat while he weaseled his way into a world where he never belonged.”
“Martinez was doing what exactly?” I asked.
“His idea I suppose, was to get into Roberto’s vault clean it out and take over the world, only he never had a chance. Martinez was an insignificant speck in a gigantic crime world that he had no business in. Sure, his scheme to get into the vault may have worked for a moment, but he only helped plan his own death. The Thalis family has so many members, he would have never taken out all of them in this lifetime. The man was a fool.”
“So Martinez is dead?” Nolan ask, his palm stroking my back.
“Yes,” Hart confirmed. “As well as three of his men and two of Thalis’.”
“And the dead Jeff, who was he?” Pete asked.
“He was a diversion,” Hart tittered. “Sent in by Roberto.”
“Huh?” I grunted out in shock.
“He was actually one of Roberto’s men trying to get information from Martinez, and as far as Martinez knew he was sent in to make a purchase on behalf of a third party. But, of course, things got fucked up and Al Bettaglia was murdered, we believe at the hand of Martinez. At least this is what we have pieced together so far. And that’s about all I can make you privy to.”
“We appreciate it,” I shook Hart’s hand, clamping his elbow with my other hand and smiled. “I think we all just want to get home now.”
“You may be subpoenaed as witnesses once this thing goes to court, if and when,” Hart warned. “But hopefully there will be enough evidence that just your statements will do.”
“From your lips, now get me the hell out of here,” Jeff said, turning away and sitting, Pete wrapping his arm over his shoulder once he joined him.
“Take care, my friend.”
Hart shook our hands, gave me one of those manly pats on the back and we all sat silent as the island faded from our sight and the sun rose on the horizon.