Chapter 13
The man observed the blonde woman exiting the Audi, the driver assisting her out of the car. He had been keeping surveillance of her residence, watching her comings and goings for the past week now. He felt he had adequate knowledge of her daily routine. It was no surprise when he saw McCall driving up last night in his sleek Mercedes, whisking her off on what he figured was a date. He had watched her in the front lobby of the flat, nervously playing with her necklace, fidgeting with her clothes. The man knew instantly she was waiting for McCall.
And now she was returning home, after spending the night with McCall. The man smiled. This was good. Very good. McCall appeared to be interested in her, much more than any previous woman. She was a distraction for McCall, which would make his job much easier.
He turned his cold dark eyes back to the pretty blonde, watched her punch in a code to enter the building, and disappear inside. Katherine Harris was her name. He had obtained a full profile on her background, family, and education. Acquiring information on civilians was usually a simple task anyway. Hacking into McCall Enterprises’ employee database, however, did require a little more effort, but after a few hours he was able to worm into their system undetected and locate her information.
He would continue to watch and wait, gathering as much information about her as possible. Besides, observing her was not a hardship. Natural blonde hair, slim with curves in all the right places, ivory complexion – she was hard not to miss. He zeroed in on her, the way a lion would stalk its prey. Watching and waiting until the time was right to go in for the kill.
Alex stood in the lavishly decorated living room of Mr. and Mrs. Howard Snider, wondering how soon he could leave before it looked rude. It was Saturday night and he wished he was with Katherine. She had left that morning, insisting she return home. He had since thought about her the rest of the day. He briefly considered asking her to join him tonight, but decided against it, thinking it might be too much too soon. He knew with Katherine he needed to take things slowly. Besides, he didn’t wish to subject her to this kind of torture.
And so here he was at another boring dinner party. However, Howard Snider was on the board of directors at McCall Enterprise’s as well as heavily invested in a number of company projects, and as such, Alex was expected to attend his party. This was part of the job he hated – “networking” as they like to call it these days. Or as Alex liked to call it “schmoozing with assholes.” It was just another aspect of the business, and he played his part well. He flashed his brilliant smile, shook hands, and talked business to get business.
He wondered what Katherine was doing, and if she was thinking of him as he was of her. He smiled to himself, replaying their night of passion over in his mind. Flashbacks of her body, her mouth, her breasts, kept coming back to him. The sex was different with her and he knew why. He knew she wasn’t just a quick fuck.
Alex wished he could be more open with her about himself. He expected the questions, and did his best to answer them without giving too much information. He couldn’t take the chance of her knowing too much - at least not right now. He would see how things developed with Katherine, and if he needed to divulge his past, he would. But not until then.
London, 2003
From all outward appearances, Thomas Brunello lived a quiet life in a quiet suburb outside of London. He lived alone, in a one-level cottage-style home, having lived there for sixteen years. He enjoyed gardening and making homemade pasta. Thomas kept to himself, saying hello to neighbors in passing, and then going about his business. What his neighbors didn’t know about was his colorful and violent past. Thomas Brunello was a former Italian Mafia boss, on the list of the top-ten most wanted criminals, a fugitive on the run from the Italian authorities. Formerly known as Vincent “Vinnie” Rossi, he fled from Naples, first to the United States, then to England, desperately trying to escape life in prison, leaving behind his wife and only son.
Vinnie was born in a small village outside of Naples, in the south of Italy. As a child, he was hard to handle, constantly fighting with his eight siblings, classmates, or neighborhood children. By the time he was sixteen he had done time in three juvenile delinquent centers for various acts of violence, including assault and battery, car theft, and drug possession. At age eighteen, realizing he could put his criminal skills to better use, he joined the Mafia. Vinnie moved from small time, petty crimes, to the big time – international drug trafficking, counterfeiting, military arms trafficking, and money laundering. Vinnie quickly climbed the ranks. At twenty-two, he became head boss after the former boss was murdered while in bed with a sixteen year old prostitute.
Vinnie was ruthless and extremely violent – he once had an Italian judge murdered for speaking out against the Mafia. When one of the judge’s bodyguards opened the car door for the judge and his wife, the car was remotely detonated, apparently packed with explosives, killing everyone within a twelve foot radius. Vinnie sent a message out to everyone, and the message was heard loud and clear.
After years of building a case against Vinnie, the Italian government had enough evidence against him to prosecute. A warrant was issued for his arrest. Vinnie fled Naples with the aide of his men and was smuggled into the States. He lived in New York City for ten years, adopting the name Carl Moretti, posing as a friendly, mild-mannered man, opening his own butcher shop. Two years later, the FBI, in correspondence with the Italian police, raided his apartment, only to find Vinnie had already fled, tipped off by one of his Mafia contacts.
Vinnie escaped to London, England this time, and took the name Thomas Brunello. Instead of selling meat, he sold men’s clothes in a department store. He made a few changes to his appearance – grew a mustache, lost thirty pounds, a few nips and tucks courtesy of a skilled plastic surgeon. And he made sure to keep a very low profile. Vinnie lived his quiet life in London for sixteen years, undetected – or so he thought.
On a hot summer’s night in the middle of August, Vincent Rossi’s life came to a violent end. The neighbors all heard the sound of the paramedics blaring, had stepped outside in their pajamas and robes, looking in disbelief when they saw the outline of Vinnie’s dead body on a stretcher, covered in a white sheet. What Vinnie’s neighbors didn’t know was that before the paramedics, before the blaring horns, before the flashing lights, two men, dressed in head to toe black, face masks pulled down, had arrived at Vinnie’s home. One man stood outside, his body flat against the side of the house, watching guard. The other man stealthily entered Vinnie’s home. Minutes later, Vinnie was shot point blank in the chest, a silencer used to ensure no loud, piercing gunshot was heard in the dead of night.