Mobster's Vendetta (11 page)

I smoke my cigarette as we had out towards
Charleton Street.

“Dude, you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Keep your cool tonight.
Don’t go fucking
oobatz
on me. I need your head on straight,” I order. I
toss my cigarette out the window as we park and walk over to the
building. I rap on the metal door and the chain rattles lifting it,
just like the last time we were here. The meeting place looks
exactly the same except the makeshift boxing ring is
gone.

Pop and Donny are here. They have been
staying at a high-end hotel in downtown. One of Pop’s colleagues
owns it. Pop had been promising to visit forever...these
unfortunate events gave him just the opportunity.

Demetrius is standing behind Don Furlotti’s
chair. He nods at me to follow him. Vito visibly tenses when he
sees Demetrius.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say. Vito must
be watching me because I can feel his eyes on my back. With certain
things Vito can hide his emotions extremely well...with others they
run right at the surface ready to implode.

Demetrius and I stand in the shadows of the
corner away from everyone else. “Three a.m., dockside on Elm,” he
tells me in a brute command.

I nod and walk back to Vito.

Everyone seems to have assembled that needed
to be here. There have been no problems with the alliance over the
past few days. Negotiations are going forward. Don Furlotti calls
everyone to order, and we all take a seat. Chairs scrape along the
cement and the talking dies down. First order of business is to
mention the death of Luigi Prazzo.

“The first defector, Luigi Prazzo, no longer
remains among the living,” Mr. Furlotti announces. “As for Tutti,
attempts are still being made by Don Delisi’s son to find him.”

It is my duty and obligation, as assigned by
my father, to take care of Uncle Tutti. I relish the opportunity
after what he attempted to do to Megan and Pop.

"If there is no new business, we will
proceed with the alliance,” Don Furlotti finishes.

Pop stands with Don Furlotti, each at the
head of the table. Donny stands as well, as he is the capo. He
takes a switchblade out of his pocket and it clicks open. Don
Furlotti’s capo does the same. An incision is made on Pop’s and Mr.
Furlotti’s fingers. Per the ritual, each Don meets in the middle
and solidifies the alliance in a blood bond. An enforcer I don’t
know steps forward with rosary beads and a picture of St. Francis
of Assisi. He drapes the rosary beads over their adjoined hands and
places the picture underneath them. A bond is formed through blood
and family. Bottles of Chianti are opened, and wine glasses are
passed around. Pop makes a toast.

“To our new family members, thank you. It is
an honor to become one with you. Salute!” Pop raises his glass and
everyone follows. A chorus of salute bounces off the walls.

The meeting breaks up, and the group seems
pretty content with what went down. This alliance benefits
everyone. Demetrius stares at me coldly and I shrug it off.

“How are things going, Tonio?” Pop asks me
as we step into a private corner.

“I am making some headway. Hopefully, I will
have everything taking care of in a week or so.”

Pop affectionately taps my shoulder. “Your
mom misses you. We look forward to having you back at home.” He
pats my face with his palm. “You’re a good boy.”

“Are you leaving tonight?” I ask.

“Yes. I have a meeting with Sommersville
very soon.”

“How’s that been going?”

“Now that Tutti took off, they don’t have
the backbone. Everything’s falling back into place...like it used
to be.”

I see Donny waiting for Pop. Pop pulls me in
for a tight hug. “Love you,” he says. “We have to go.” I hug him
back.

“Love you too, Pop. See you soon,” I tell
him.

Vito’s disposition is marginally better as
we get back in the car.

“That went well,” I comment.

He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally.

“What did Demetrius say?” he asks in a low
tone. I am surprised at Vito. He knows I’m not supposed to discuss
it. I don’t respond right away. “I don’t trust him,” he adds. “I’m
not trying to break any code; I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know,” I sigh.

We sit in silence. The hum of the motor and
the softened radio are the only sounds.

“Have to go tonight at three a.m.” If I
can’t answer these types of questions with Vito, then there is
absolutely no one. Someday, he’ll be my head enforcer. He was born
and bred for it.

*****

Antonio:

I catch a couple of hours sleep before I
have to meet Demetrius. Vito is snoring loudly, sucking the air out
of the room. I take a quick shower attempting to wake myself up and
throw on some old jeans, a T-shirt, and a jacket. I grab my keys
off the nightstand.

I arrive at the docks and I let the car roll
along slowly in the darkness. I don’t see Demetrius, but I’m a
little bit early. I am well-prepared, with a semi-automatic rifle
stuffed under the driver’s seat and a glock in the back of my
jeans.

Being part of a crime family, you would
think that crimes wouldn’t bother me, but they do. I find it easy
to shrug off what my father does...those people know what they’re
getting themselves into. People who take part in gambling and
money-laundering are typically their own victims. If they can’t pay
or get in to deep, it’s their own problem, their own fault. But
shit like drugs and racketeering, those things create more faceless
victims than I ever care to think about...Pop would tell me not to
think. Don’t think, just do.

A black Camaro pulls up next to me, its
windows tinted. Leaning forward in my seat, I reach into the back
of my jeans and pull out my glock, holding it below the steering
wheel...ready for anything. The window rolls down on the car next
to me, and Demetrius leans over the seat.

“Follow me,” he says brusquely.

I hold my gun in one hand and steer with the
other as I follow him down the thin road and out behind a crumbling
brick building. Parking next to him, I wait for him to get out
first. He slams his car door, and I notice his hands are empty, so
I put my gun back in my pants and get out.

Each time I am in Demetrius’s company, I am
reminded of his sordid and violent past. His impulsiveness and
disregard for the rules makes him two things - feared by the
underworld...and a target.

“Come on,” Demetrius says and waves for me
to follow him.

I do.

Side-by-side we walk into the rundown
building through a dilapidated steel door. The misshapen door has
been kicked numerous times and now it bows ungracefully. It is dark
inside with only a few streetlamps casting shadows and illuminating
certain areas. It is hard to see in the dimness, but I can smell
decaying fish and mold. It is overpowering, and I cover my nose
with the sleeve of my jacket, trying to get relief from the
foulness.

A figure steps out of the shadows. I brace
myself preparing to attack if necessary.

“Do you got the stuff?” a scared voice
asks.

“Yeah. Do you?” Demetrius says bitingly.

Paper rustles and the unknown person steps
forward, handing a package to Demetrius.

He opens it gradually saying in a low tone,
“You better not try to fuck me.”

The guy in front of us is visibly shaking.
That’s not good. That’s just as bad as someone like Demetrius. This
guy could start going crazy...do something stupid. I train my eyes
on the guy, watching carefully his every move.

Demetrius licks his pinky finger and dips
into the package. He brings his finger to his mouth tasting it. He
growls.

“What is the shit?” Demetrius barks. “I told
you I wanted the pure stuff only!”

All hell breaks loose, and I am ready for
it. Demetrius tosses the shitty cocaine to the ground and pulls out
his gun. I do the same, jacking my body forward to grab the guy.
He’s skinny and quick, and he dodges my grasp and runs for the
door. I chase after him while Demetrius ducks through another
doorway, attempting to cut him off in the next room. I grab the
guy’s shirt and yank him back. He lands on the ground crunching the
broken plaster that litters the floor. I shove my foot on his chest
holding him down and train my gun on him in the thick darkness.

He pleads with me as Demetrius walks up and
hovers over him, too. The red has already formed over my eyes in
fight mode. It takes a few minutes to register what he is
saying.

“Don’t leave me with him!” he repeats over
and over.

He is talking to me, asking me, the man with
the gun on him, not to leave him alone with Demetrius. There is
definitely something wrong with this scenario. I look to Demetrius
to see what he wants to do. This is his show, not mine. He is
eerily quiet as the man on the ground grovels.

If this was my business to take care of, I’d
beat him up, and tell him to get better stuff or else. In my mind,
it seems simple enough; you can’t get clean cocaine from a dead
man. But I have never dealt in drugs, so I am not really sure
what’s going on here.

And if this kid was marked, it wouldn’t be
my business to take care of it. It would be the cleaner’s.

Then the entire bullshit situation dawns on
me.

Demetrius is a Cleaner. Fuck!

A gunshot rings out startling me, but it’s
not mine. Blood splatters my jeans and I feel the wetness soaking
through to my skin. I realize Demetrius shot the groveling kid in
the face. I take a moment to recover and relax my hand. I drop the
gun to my side.

Mistake number one.

Demetrius mumbles under his breath, “No
body, no crime.”

His eyes, even in the blackness of the grimy
room, are vacantly hateful. He shifts his eyes to me, and in that
look I know...I’m marked!

I play it cool, paying close attention to
where his arm is pointing. I’m not sure what he has planned for me,
so I don’t want to alert him that I am onto him. Knowing this sick
fuck, he’ll make me help him clean this mess up and then off me. I
give him the intro he needs to see where this is going.

“What’s next?” I ask. My hands are steady as
always, and I keep my breathing even.

A new shot whizzes by us and embeds itself
in the wall behind Demetrius. It startles both of us. I immediately
hit the ground and roll close to the wall. A garbled screech roars
through the ancient building. I keep moving and stay low to the
ground as I scan around me looking for an exit. I don’t know where
Demetrius has gone. I’m like a rat in a maze. But my prize for
figuring it out isn’t a crumb of cheese...it’s getting out of here
alive. I say a silent thank you for my father being a bastard when
it came to training.

I keep my gun poised and set. More shots are
fired and pump into the walls, shattering and collapsing them. The
yelling continues between the shots, and I can finally make out
what this person is shouting.

“You killed my brother!”

Sobbing wails bounce off the crumbling
enclosure as whoever is out there kneels over the dead body. “You
son of a bitch! Demetrius! Where are you?!”

I strain to listen. I definitely know where
the shooter is. This person is clumsy and inexperienced. I don’t
know where Demetrius is...and that is a problem.

I can’t stay here. I’m too exposed. I stay
low and shuffle across the floor, but only get about ten feet when
I recognize the shooter is coming my way. I crouch on the floor
near a doorjamb. The tip of a sneaker comes into view and slips
forward cautiously. I slide my gun in the back of my jeans, needing
two hands.

Don’t think, just do!

With another step forward, I lunge and grab
the person around the middle trapping their arms. A startled yelp
bellows out. I clasp my hand over their mouth.

Holy shit! It’s a girl!

Her cheeks are slick with tears. I tighten
my grip, squeezing her as she tries to free herself. She is
attempting to raise her gun, struggling. I jerk her over to the
wall and press her face against it. She whimpers. I whisper in her
ear as her long black hair flies wildly in my face.

“I’m not Demetrius. Stay calm, and I’ll get
us out here,” I say, attempting to sound comforting.

She nods her head, but I can’t trust her.
She’s too unstable and upset. I keep my hand in front of her mouth
and my other arm securely around her, pinning her to me. I hear the
familiar crunch of plaster.

He’s coming!

I pick her up, inches off the floor, and
make a run for it. I dash over the threshold, and we’re out into
the night air. I see two people crouched by the side of the
building. I immediately throw the two of us down onto the ground,
and grab for her gun. She screams into my hand. Within a second,
I’m aiming.

“Tonio! It’s me,” a voice says that I
identify instantly.

Vito!

I relax my hand, lowering my gun, as Vito
rushes over to me. Behind him is Patrick.

“What the fuck are the two of you doing
here?” I spit, angry at Vito totally disregarding my instruction to
stay away.

The girl who tried to blow my head off
earlier, although I truly think she was aiming at Demetrius, begins
sobbing uncontrollably. The crying racks her body and makes it
convulse in defeat.

I’m not sure if the danger was over. I have
no clue where Demetrius is now.

“Help me get her up,” I say. Vito reaches
down and scoops her up into his arms. I hang onto her gun.

“We need to find cover,” Patrick orders. I
agree.

Patrick and I flank Vito as he carries the
crying girl in his arms.

“Who is she?” Vito whispers.

“No clue. She was shooting at us
earlier.”

Patrick silences us with a look. He stalks
cautiously around the side of the building towards my car.
Demetrius’s Camaro is gone. It’s a good guess that he probably
screwed. But Demetrius is very sly; we still need to make sure that
he’s gone.