The Mafia Trilogy (32 page)

Carson would be waiting for him, and Greg would tell him everything he knew whether he wanted to or not. Greg would help in the investigation no matter how much he liked the Kostas kid, because they were on the same team and they were hunting a killer. Once a man kills a federal agent, as Darwin had done, no one was safe.

Carson looked at his watch. He still had two hours until Greg touched down in Jacksonville.

He rustled up the files on his desk, placed them neatly off to one corner and stood, pushing his chair away with the backs of his knees. As the afternoon turned to evening, the Jacksonville Bureau office was still quite busy and would be until they apprehended Darwin Kostas. That many agents killed in a single event kept the office jumping.

He stepped away from his desk, walked out the main doors and headed for his car. When he got in and turned it on, he realized just how angry he was. Five federal agents, beaten and killed. By one man. And no one will talk about Darwin because his file is sealed.

“What the fuck is wrong with the world?”

His cell phone startled him.

“Hello,” he snapped.

“Just thought you should know,” Rudy said.

“What?”

“A motel north of that Mobil gas station that Darwin hit has been shot up pretty bad. The clerk said he was asleep. He woke up when the shotgun went off.”

“Shotgun?”

“Yeah, apparently he had one room rented to a couple who paid cash. A couple he just saw on the news. Three rooms got hit. The motel clerk called in and said it was like the shooter had randomly shot into motel rooms. This guy sounds really fucked.”

“How come this is the first I’m hearing about this?”

“Local authorities took the call and are responding. I have all our guys out looking for that pickup truck. We thought Darwin was long gone. Who would have guessed he grabbed a room a few miles from the gas station?”

“What’s the name of the place?”

“The Sleep On Inn.”

“I know the one.”

Carson tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and squealed his tires as he drove away from the federal building.

“I got you, Darwin, you sick fuck.”

He leaned across the seats and opened the glove box. After another glance out the windshield, he reached in and retrieved his unregistered gun. A Taurus PT145. Made in Brazil, his came with a blued finish, a ten-round magazine and a double-action trigger. A wonderful killing machine, it weighed just over twenty-two ounces. The serial number had been shaved off. The gun had disappeared from the evidence room two years ago.

Carson smiled to himself as he eased the Taurus into its holster.

“I have a surprise for you, Darwin,” he said out loud. “There will not be a courtroom, no jail cell where you’d serve your time. That’s for the crooks, the rapists, and all the rest of the bad guys. No, for you Darwin, there’s only one way to deal with a killer.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “You will die by my hand, you worthless piece of
fuck
. You will bleed and I will be your judge and jury, and when I’m done, I will shoot your fucking wife in the face. How do you like that?”

Carson turned his siren on and added weight to his foot.

Chapter 5

The cop had ordered them into the back of his unmarked cruiser. Even if Darwin wanted to escape, there was no way he could. The doors locked on the outside and the Plexiglas between them and the driver was seriously thick.

All they could do was wait. The cop had continued talking about shit Darwin had done and how he couldn’t believe it all. He also talked about all the
fun
they were going to have.

The sun had dropped far enough to be lost behind low-level clouds.

Darwin held Rosina’s hand as she stared out the window at the passing scenery. The cop wasn’t offering idle threats. The people he worked for were serious about killing them because he hadn’t used a blindfold. Darwin could see where they were going and could later offer directions to the police.

Rosina turned to him. “I saw his badge but I don’t think he’s taking us to a police station.”

“I know. I think this cop has other plans.”

“What are you talking about back there?” the cop asked. “No talking.”

“Stop the car,” Darwin said.

“Fuck you.”

“You don’t want us to talk, so pull over and make us stop talking. Otherwise, mind your own fucking business.”

Darwin had no idea where he came up with some of the things he said. Prior to the accident where he killed Vincenzo Fuccini with his car, he’d only been in one fight in high school. The other guy won. He never wanted to hurt anybody. But when he felt threatened, he seemed to have no control. Especially if he was threatened by something sharp, like a knife.

Now, they had nothing to lose. If the driver really wanted to get him to stop talking to his wife, then he would have to get out of his driver’s seat and do something about it. If the cop was sent to kill them, then he would’ve already done it.

“Just keep quiet. I don’t want to hear your bullshit,” the cop said.

“Rosina, I don’t want to worry you, but this doesn’t look good. Wherever we’re going, we are going to have to make a break for it. When we do, you run in front of me so anything they throw at us goes through me first.”

“How does that help us? If you get hurt or killed, I’m dead too. This isn’t about survival. This is about ending everything. Getting this part of our lives, this chapter complete. We have to find out who sent those two men to the safe house. Then we need to learn who employs this asshole and how it’s all connected. Then we can start to piece together who’s behind it all because we both know that it isn’t Fuccini. He’s dead. And it’s not the feds themselves.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve been thinking. They wouldn’t send two FBI agents over to the safe house to kill three other FBI agents. If it was the feds, those guys would’ve staged our deaths and it’d be all over.”

The driver applied the brakes. Darwin looked around for a marker and saw a sign for the Markville Family Funeral Home on the left side of the two-lane highway.

“I know all those answers,” the driver said as he turned right and started up what looked like a driveway, away from the funeral home.

“Then tell us. Who is behind all this?”

“In time, in time.”

Trees lined each side of the lane as it wound left and right. Darwin watched it unfold as best he could with the limited light left from the sun. He was starting to break out in a sweat, thinking about how dark it would be in the backseat of the car if the guy didn’t get them where they were going soon.

Darwin hated that he had come out of his childhood with two phobias. One was
aichmophobia,
a fear of sharp or pointy objects like needles or knives. Rosina knew this about him. That’s why she’d knocked the knife set off the kitchen counter back at the safe house—so Darwin would go crazy and attack the guy who was eating Darwin’s breakfast.

The other phobia was
achluophobia
, a fear of darkness. He hated the dark. He had to drive with the interior light on if he was out after the sun went down. When eating out at restaurants, he ate with spoons or plastic cutlery. He had his torturous stepmom to thank for all the issues he faced as an adult.

But at least those phobias kept me alive when dealing with the Fuccini Family.

The car came to a halt in front of a huge water fountain. Whoever owned the house they were visiting had to be seriously rich. The sprawling grounds were manicured and perfect with bushes and flowers lining each walkway. Everywhere he could see, there were small lights under the foliage. He thought of a landing strip.

The house stood back from the driveway. The five-car garage was larger than any house Darwin had ever lived in. Even though the sun had dropped far enough to leave only a purple hue in the sky, bright lights illuminated the front of the house, designed to enhance its beauty.

Someone has gone to a lot of trouble making sure this mansion is perfect.

The water fountain filled the windshield. A mermaid sat, leaning on a rock, water spouting from her mouth in torrents.

The driver got out of the car and disappeared around the edge of the fountain.

“What are we going to do?” Rosina asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Just make sure, whatever it is, don’t get yourself shot.”

“I won’t honey. It’ll work out.”

“You should find a way to call Richard H. I’m sure he’d help. Maybe he could send a few guys over.”

“He’s still recovering from all the bullets he received the last time he helped us. I’m supposed to be sending back a piece of his manuscript later today. I hope he doesn’t think I bailed on him.”

“Darwin, seriously, he’ll see what’s happening on the news. He’ll know we’re on the run.”

“True,” Darwin said and then thought of something else. “Maybe I could call Greg.”

“Do that. As soon as we get to a phone.”

The driver came back around the corner with men behind him. Big men, all carrying large weapons hung on straps over their shoulders. Darwin did a quick count. Eight men, plus the driver.

“Holy shit, what the fuck are they expecting?” Darwin asked. “A small war?” He grabbed Rosina’s hand. “Listen, honey, I love you and I will do everything in my power to end this without either one of us getting hurt. Think on your feet and follow my lead. Do whatever you can to stay alive and don’t get hurt. I love you.”

Rosina wrapped her hand around his head and brought him closer to her, kissing him on the lips, hard and fast. “I love you, too. You’re everything I could’ve asked for.”

Both backdoors ripped open in unison and the tips of long guns jammed in each side.

“Get out,” someone ordered.

Slowly, so as not to die because of a nervous finger, Darwin and Rosina got out of the backseat of the police cruiser, standing on opposite sides.

“Why is it called ‘cold-blooded’ murder when humans are warm-blooded?” Darwin asked.

The guy holding a weapon at Darwin’s forehead frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Darwin said. He lowered his voice and talked through his nose to sound like Darth Vader. “Take us to your leader.”

The guy looked at the driver. “Is this the guy that Frankie told you to go get?”

“That’s him. Darwin Kostas and his wife, Rosina.”

The gunman looked back at Darwin. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. This is the guy that took out the Fuccinis? No way. I don’t believe it.”

Darwin shook his head and looked at his shoes. “You know, I’m getting sick and tired of everyone underestimating me.” He looked back at the gunman and stared into his eyes. “I killed the Harvester of Sorrow. I killed Vincenzo Fuccini and his father and many of the men he had working for him. They’re gone. You should have a little more respect for what I’ve done. This body is a disguise.” Darwin waved his arms up and down the length of his sides.

The guy with the gun stepped back. “Careful.”

“Darwin,” Rosina said from the other side of the car. “Don’t hurt them. They’re just doing their jobs. Let’s at least meet who they’ve brought us to meet.”

The cop stepped closer and nodded at Darwin. “What are you talking about, disguise?”

“Under this lovely pair of shorts and this large T-shirt is a midget ninja always selling myself short.”

The cop shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief second as if he was clearing a cobweb. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. “What?”

The gunman laughed. “I get it. He’s a comedian. Canada has lots of them. John Candy, Jim Carrey, and Michael J. Fox.”

The cop looked at the gunman. “You’re fucked too. Michael J. Fox isn’t a comedian. He was that guy in
Back to the Future
.”

“Don’t say I’m
fucked
ever again.”

The gunman moved his aim a little.

“Threaten me with that weapon and I will shove it up your ass so far you’ll be putting a straw in the barrel to drink.”

“Okay, okay,” a man shouted from behind them. “Enough of this. Bring them inside.”

The gunman sneered at the cop, but stepped back and gave Darwin room to walk.

“Let’s go.”

Darwin headed around the front of the cruiser and met up with Rosina. Together, surrounded by eight gunmen and a cop, they approached the front of the huge manor.

He counted sixteen windows in the front of the house, with two of them an entire floor high. As they approached the stairs that led to the two massive wooden front doors, he saw who had spoken a moment ago.

The man standing on the front steps had a barrel chest, a slim goatee and a physique that shouted muscle.