The Mafia Trilogy (7 page)

Standing in the hallway, it hit her. Could the men who had blocked traffic in the two Crown Victorias that morning, be connected to all this? Were they trying to get Darwin, even then, on the open, public highway? If they were, then these men, this organization, was fearless.

She descended the stairs to the lobby and then more stairs to the door that led outside.

A long, sleek limousine sat parked across from the open door.

The back door opened. A very large man in a suit two sizes too small stepped out and started toward the sidewalk. She watched him closely.

The man hit the sidewalk and turned her way.

Rosina looked away out of embarrassment. She didn’t normally stare at people. Today was different. She had to watch people. See who they were, what they were up to.

She had to consider, that after Darwin was done with the two men in that van at the airport, he would try to contact her. But now she felt she’d waited too long. She had to call the police as soon as possible.

She looked back. The man from the limousine stood behind her, glaring.

“Come with me.”

She looked him up and down. “I am not a call girl. You may have money, but it’s fuckin’ rude to assume.”

He grabbed her arm.

“Hey! Let go of me,” she said as she struggled.

He leaned in close. “Don’t resist if you ever want to see Darwin again.”

She went limp. This man was one of
them.
It was that easy. Check into the hotel and there they were.

Fine. She wanted to meet with them anyway. Give them a piece of her mind.

She allowed herself to be led to the limo. A door opened as they approached and the man with the small suit shoved her inside.

“Hey!” she yelled again. “There’s no need.”

The man jumped in behind her and even before his door was shut, the vehicle got underway.

Rosina righted herself, adjusted her blouse and sat back in the leather seat. The man who grabbed her sat to her right. Another man sat facing her in a backward-facing seat aimed at hers. Both men were grinning. She had no idea why, but they were.

“You two wanna tell me what the joke is?”

They looked at each other and then both turned their attention on her. The man who threw her in the limo said, “It’s over. That’s why we’re happy. We get to go home.”

“What’s over?”

“We have that rat bastard of a husband of yours and now we have you.”

“You have Darwin? Where?”

“We’re taking you to see him right now. Don’t worry, it won’t be long now.”

She looked out the window. If they already had Darwin, and they were taking her to where he was, what did that mean? When he said it was over, what could he mean? Home now? Where was home for these men?

Then she decided on another question.

“Was it your people who shot at us the other night?”

The man sitting across from her raised a hand to his companion. “I’ll handle her questions. This is the fun part. I like toying with my prey.”

“Prey? I’m nobody’s prey.” These disgusting brutes talked like animals.

“Whatever you think, missus. Yes, it was us.”

“Why would you shoot at us? If one of your bullets had hit me or my husband, you could’ve killed us.”

“We’re sorry. We weren’t trying to hit you. Believe me, if we were, we wouldn’t have missed.”

Confused, she asked, “Why were you trying to miss us? That doesn’t make sense, if you’re after my husband for
accidentally
killing that man.”

A smile played across his mouth. “We wouldn’t want either one of you to die so easily. We don’t believe in that. What kind of men would we be known as? Hit men? Hired guns? No, we like to hurt and kill people in unique ways.”

Even though she hadn’t eaten much, her stomach lurched and what little she had eaten threatened to come up. There was no way the man sitting across from her was telling the truth.

He continued. “If you’re still wondering why we would shoot at you, it was because we were hoping you’d call the police. They’d file a report and then we’d know where you were staying. All the time you’ve been in Rome, we’ve been trying to find where you two were staying. We hadn’t got permission yet from the ruling families here to do our business, so we had to wait, collect information. We knew we were running out of time, so we thought we’d try to run you over, shoot at you, get you to call the police. But that didn’t work. Then we found out you were headed for the airport, and we just got granted our permission. So we made our move, and here we are, nice and cozy.”

He was lying. He had to be. “How would having us call the police help you?” she asked.

He laughed and shook his head a little. He had bad teeth and five-day old beard. The guy looked unkempt, and yet he acted cocky and cool like he was in disguise.

“You really don’t know who we are, do you? You aren’t aware of our world? How men like us have police on the payroll? How politicians, back home in Canada, do what we want? You live in your ivory towers and look down at us, not having any idea that we’re the ones who make the world go ‘round. You fucking whore,” his voice rose in volume. “You fucking slut. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

Rosina didn’t think of herself as stupid or naive. She knew there were people like the man in front of her in the same world as her. But why would they hurt innocent, regular folk like Darwin and her. She was barely twenty-five years old. She’d never even been in a fight except for a little hair-pulling in grade school. As far as dealing with difficult people, Darwin had only ever dealt with his stepmother. But now these people were on their case. Apparently, they had Darwin. Now they had her. What was next? They would
kill
Darwin and her? No, she wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it.

No way. I will deal with this and I will walk away. Darwin and I will live a long life together and men like this will be the ones who die young.

She watched Rome flash by.

“My name is the Harvester of Sorrow,” the unkempt man said. “I’m the distributor of pain. Do you like that?”

Her disgust rose. They wouldn’t intimidate her that easily. She committed to herself that she wouldn’t show fear. She learned years ago in an after-school rape class that these kind of people relish the control they have over you. They yearn for the fear in your eyes. Don’t fight to get away. Don’t give them the pleasure. It may save your life.

“No, can’t say I like that.”

“Well, the shortest straw has been pulled for you.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Those are lyrics from the best Metallica album ever,
And Justice For All.
Harvester of Sorrow is a wicked tune. I took my name from that because I’m the guy that gets to hurt you.”

“Calm down,” the man in the suit beside her said. “We don’t touch her until the boss says we can.”

The two men looked at each other. “I know that. What the
fuck
you think I’m doing here? You best watch yourself, Gabe. Your time’ll come, and when it does, I’ll do you something special.”

“Fuck you. I’ll be here long after you’ve rotted in an unmarked grave. Watch what the fuck you be saying to me. You’re not bulletproof.”

The Harvester sat back and smiled like he owned the world. Rosina could barely control the fear inside her. But as long as they had her husband and they were taking her to see him, she was sure they’d work things out together.

I feel stupid thinking this way, but these men are completely putting on a show. They don’t torture people and kill them anymore. Only in random cases.

It took ten more minutes of negotiating Rome’s traffic before they pulled into an underground garage. The driver wound down and into an open, empty parking area except for three black vans.

The limousine came to a stop beside the vans. Men approached the vehicle and opened all the doors in the back.

“Get out,” one of the men ordered.

Rosina decided to stay silent and do her best to show zero fear.

She followed the line of six men as they walked her to an elevator. She almost felt like she was in a Quentin Tarantino movie with six mafia men standing around in expensive suits, in Rome, the home of the Italian mafia, escorting a helpless young woman to her final meeting. Then she banished the thought as soon as it entered her head. Quentin’s movies got a little bloody at times and there would be nothing final about her meeting upstairs. Nothing at all.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened. Three men filed in and turned around. Rosina entered and then the other three followed, with the Harvester standing closest to her.

The ride was quick, a relief as the thick air in the confined elevator was beginning to get to her.

The doors opened onto a gorgeous floor. The walls were marble, the carpets plush. Before they got too far, the Harvester stuck a key into the elevator panel and twisted it, locking the elevator out of service.

I guess we aren’t to be interrupted.

The men escorted her through a pair of glass double doors and into an office that would resemble any high-paid lawyer’s domain back in Canada.

They continued down a hallway and walked, one by one, through a smaller door.

The door was small, but the room was large. It would easily seat fifteen men. Couches lined the walls, armchairs and tables sat at random places. It looked like a luncheon room for the rich.

In the far corner sat a large banker’s desk and, behind it, a man who appeared from a distance to be at least seventy-five years old.

“Come, sit,” he said, with a flourish of his hand.

Rosina was directed to a solitary chair positioned in front of the big desk. She walked up and stood in front of it. All the men fell back, some took positions near the door and others sat on the plush couches.

“So good to finally meet you,” the old man said. “Please, have a seat.”

“I’ll stand, thank you. But I think you have it wrong here.
I’m
the one who is happy to finally meet you.”

He cocked his head a little. Someone behind her laughed under his breath. The old man raised his hand and the laughter ceased instantly.

“Why would that be?” he asked, his voice firm.

“You, or at least I’m assuming it’s you, have been terrorizing my husband and making his life a living hell for too long. It has to stop and that’s why I’m here. To make some kind of deal, some kind of arrangement so this petty bullying will come to an end. Then we can all move on.”

This time it was the old man who chuckled.

“Where do you people come from?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

He stood up, reached for a cane beside the desk and limped around it. He stepped closer to her, studying her face. He bent a little to the left, then the right, and gawked at her as if he was attempting to figure something out.

“Do I have something on my face?” Rosina asked.

He stood to his full height, which was still an inch shorter than Rosina’s five-nine, and shook his head.

“Not yet.” He lifted his cane, put it in both hands, like he was about to bunt a ball with a baseball bat, and shoved forward with the strength of a boxer in the ring. The cane smacked into her chest so hard, she had no time to recover. Her balance lost, she fell backwards, into the chair.

“I told you to sit down when you first entered
my
office. The next time you disobey me, the consequences will prove to be more severe.”

The old man turned away and walked away on both legs, without a limp, and without the use of the cane.

Rosina sat there, breathing rapidly as her heart rate shot up.

Concentrate, breathe, no fear. Concentrate, breathe, no fear.

“You and I have a unique problem,” he said. “You, personally, have done me no harm.” He reached his desk and sat down again. He picked up what looked like a gold-colored letter opener and started tapping it on the desk. “But I have to do
you
harm.”

“Why?” It was out before she could stop it. Her voice was weak, frightened and limp.

No, be honest with yourself. That’s fear.

“Because Darwin Athios Kostas does not have any children for me to kill.”

What the fuck?

“I can see by the expression on your face you either don’t understand the gravity of the situation, because you don’t understand what’s happening here, or you think I’m a sick and twisted individual.” He stopped talking and ceased movement of his letter opener. He looked down at it and then, after a moment he looked back up at her. “Or maybe you think I am all of the above. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The world is one big machine, living off the foundation of cause and effect. More specifically, I’m talking about consequences.” He started tapping his letter opener again. “You do something, you have to answer for it. There are consequences and there are debts to be paid.”