The Scorpion's Tale (7 page)

“Who are these people in New York?”

Giorgio shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t
know.”

“You’re a terrible liar! You know! Now, tell
me!” she demanded

“Why? What can you possibly do? You’re just a
girl.”

Her lips parted in the beginnings of a smile.
Her cousin was so naive. “Correction, Giorgio. I’m a woman who is
determined to seek justice for my family!”

“Justice?” he scoffed. “Justice is bought,
and these people have the money to do it!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Just give me a name!”
she commanded.

Giorgio shook his head. “I will give you
names only if I accompany you.”

“You’re in no position to make demands. If
our family discovers what you just told me, you’ll be treated as a
leper!”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No amore. I’m promising you.” She extended
her hand toward his face, but he jerked away. “Give me a name, my
love.”

“I am signing your death warrant.”

“That’s fine. I absolve you from any
blame.”

“The three in New York were killed a few days
before your family. Their wives and children were also murdered.
These are the people you will be trying to bring to justice. Do you
still need to visit New York?”

She hesitated a few seconds, a shadow of fear
crossing her face. “I do,” she mumbled, with less conviction.

“If you wish to hate me all of your life, and
tell my family about me, that’s fine. I won’t help you on your
fool’s quest. If you need a name in New York, speak with your
uncles. I don’t know anyone who I’d trust with your life. If you
choose to go, I’ve washed my hands.”

Giovanna stood to leave. “Everything has
changed, Giorgio. Forever! I can’t go back and neither can you. I
love you, and I will always love you. I will follow your advice and
go elsewhere for help.”

Business was bustling at Peter Luger’s
Steakhouse. Nick had scheduled the meeting here because it was his
uncle’s favorite restaurant. Since Nick’s father’s untimely death
from lung cancer, his younger brother, Alberto Manzione, had
assumed control of the family business. Alberto was seventy-two
with whitish-gray hair, and a huge, friendly smile that engulfed
his well-tanned face. He jogged three miles each day and worked out
with a personal trainer, which offset his only vices of eating fine
food and drinking scotch. Alberto commanded respect. Behind the
affable smile was an intense and perceptive man who left little to
chance and made it his business to know everything he could about
his friends and enemies.

Alberto, accompanied by Nick and Nick’s older
cousin Benedicto “Bebe” Mulata, were seated at their special round
table. All stood to greet Steven.

“Hello, Steven. It’s been a long time. Too
long,” Bebe said, as he kissed him on both cheeks. “It’s great to
see you. I’m real sorry about your family.” Bebe, at 6'7" and 290
pounds, with a large square head on a thick muscular neck, was a
brick wall. His buzz cut, and huge black eyes with deep pockets
underneath gave him a menacing expression. Scars on each cheek from
knife fights made him even more intimidating.

Steven nodded and patted Bebe on the shoulder
and remembering how the neighborhood kids had given Bebe the
nickname “Troll” when they were younger. He was probably one of the
ugliest people he had ever known, he thought, but someone you
wanted on your side
.
“Good to see you, too, Bebe. You’re
looking good.”

Bebe pointed proudly at his waist. “Thanks.
I’ve been working out and eating right.”

Nick laughed and motioned for Bebe to
sit.

“What did I say?” Bebe said, looking back and
forth between Nick and Alberto, genuinely bewildered.

Alberto raised his glass. “Salute, Steven.
It’s wonderful to see you again.” He motioned for him to sit across
from him. Steven bowed his head toward the patriarch and waited for
Nick and Bebe to sit.

Alberto raised his glass again. “To our
families’ long bond.”

Steven raised his glass. “To all those we
have lost.”

Nick lifted his glass. “To Amanda.”

There was a momentary silence before everyone
echoed, “To Amanda.”

The waiter arrived with salads, ending the
solemnity.

“I took the liberty of ordering,” Alberto
said.

Steven nodded.

While they ate, the men reminisced about old
times, lamenting the passing of so many good friends and family
members. Coffee and dessert found them recounting fond memories of
Nick’s father, Pierro. Each man had several favorite stories to
share about the man.

“Steven, my brother loved you,” Alberto said.
“Of course, he respected your mother’s decision when you were
younger, but it wasn’t what he would have chosen for you.” Alberto
sipped his espresso. “That was one of the few times I ever saw my
brother back away from something he wanted. He believed that you
and Nick would always look out for each other. Of course, Nick
broke his father’s heart when he shunned you.” Alberto glanced at
Nick, who lowered his eyes.

Alberto patted his nephew’s head. “But my
brother loved his son more than life itself. He was deeply blessed
to have such a devoted son, and I am equally blessed to have such
an exceptional nephew.”

Steven and Bebe nodded their heads in
agreement.

“Don’t forget Carlo,” Nick added.

“I’ll never forget your older brother,”
Alberto replied. “I think of him every day. He was the best! Before
I die, I’ll find the bastard who murdered him and personally give
him an invitation to the Gates of Hell.”

Alberto finished his coffee, looked intently
across the table at Steven, and ordered four glasses of Sambuca
with coffee beans. “Steven, my brother would never have approved of
what you request from me.”

Steven looked into the patriarch’s eyes and
saw his conflict. “I understand. He cared greatly for me, and I for
him. But everything has changed, Alberto. The man sitting before
you is not the man your brother loved. That man died with his
family. Like you, Alberto, he wouldn’t have wanted to endanger me,
but he would have understood. He would have known that this is what
must be done, and done by my hand.”

“I know that all too well,” Alberto said.
“When you were young, Pierro and I would comment on your
stubbornness. You were worse than Nick! Steven, I know you will do
this no matter what I say, no matter how I try to discourage you,
but....”

Steven tried to interject, but was
immediately stopped.

“Silencio! You must know what you are up
against! I have learned that the man who killed your family is
known as the ‘Scorpion’, a professional assassin, and the best in
the business. Nobody knows his identity. He is a ghost who changes
appearances like a chameleon. He could be sitting next to you and
you would never know him. Am I making myself clear, Steven?”

Steven nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t fear much. But I fear this man. He
fears nothing, not even God. He is a man without a soul, with no
moral code. Because he killed your pregnant wife and your beautiful
daughter, I no longer have allegiance to him. He has disgraced our
business by these deplorable acts. But you must understand that I
don’t wish to make him my enemy. He worked for us and was very
effective. Something you’ve never understood is that killing is
necessary in my business. The Scorpion, however, kills not only for
business but also for sport. I am trying to determine who hired him
for these hits and why they were ordered. Tony was under the
protection of my family, and I didn’t sanction the hit. There is a
mystery as to what Tony was doing that I will solve, I promise.
I’ll find those who gave the unsanctioned order and I vow on the
grave of my father, their blood will spill!”

Steven gulped down his Sambuca, and
contemplated Alberto’s words. Steven had never known Alberto to
fear anyone and suspected it must have been a revelation to both
Nick and Bebe as well. No one spoke.

Steven finally broke the long silence and
addressed Alberto. “I greatly appreciate everything you’ve said to
me. I respect you more than you will ever know, and value your
wisdom. But this is something I must do. I have no choice but to
find this man and kill him.”

“I disagree,” Alberto replied. “We all have
choices. To find this man is impossible. To kill him, you’ll need a
miracle. His eyes and ears are everywhere, and you’ll be tracking
him into his own world! Everything will be on his terms. He will
eventually discover your plan. I am guaranteeing your execution by
granting your request!”

Steven leaned across the table and clasped
the elderly man’s hands and smiled as he gazed into Alberto’s eyes.
He saw a vulnerability that few had ever seen. “I know exactly what
you’re doing and I love you for it, as I loved your brother. But I
want revenge for my wife and children.”

“How will you kill him? Have you thought this
through?”

“All I know is that it will be slow and
painful. I don’t want him to die quickly. He must suffer as I
suffer.”

“Do you even have a gun?” Alberto asked.

“No. Not yet.”

“Steven, I’ve made many mistakes and I have
regrets. Hatred and vengeance won’t be a path to your salvation.
Even though you are justified in this pursuit, if you have the
opportunity to kill him, do it quickly.”

Steven shook his head. “I’ll make this man
suffer and then I will end his miserable life!” Steven felt blood
rushing to his head at the thought of killing the Scorpion.

Alberto bit his lip as his face darkened.
“You are acting on your emotions and that means you will fail.
Divorce yourself from all feelings.”

Steven nodded. “I understand.”

“I know this goes without saying, but we
never had this conversation. For the sake of my family, swear that
you will never tell anyone we helped. As for me, understand that I
wash my hands of your blood.”

Steven nodded.

“You’ll need to go to Chicago to see a man
named Carlo Pontedor, who we call Charlie P. Charlie worked with
the Scorpion. Charlie has never seen him, but he may be able to set
you on the right path. Charlie is our good friend and I’ll tell him
you are coming. May God be with you! Nick will walk you to your
car.”

Steven thanked Alberto and kissed Bebe on the
cheek before leaving. He almost stumbled, not realizing how much
he’d drunk. Outside, Nick lit a cigarette and paced back and forth
as they waited for the attendant to retrieve Steven’s car.

“Anything I can do to change your mind?”

Steven shook his head.

They waited in silence until the car
arrived.

Nick gave the valet a ten dollar bill. “I’ll
call you tomorrow and we’ll talk about Chicago.”

Steven nodded, slid into his Toyota and
rolled down the window. “Thanks, Nick.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You’re a pain in the
ass and you’re insane.” Handing Steven a large manila envelope,
Nick continued, “You know who this is from but you can never thank
him.”

Steven looked at Nick with a puzzled
expression and shook the envelope.

“Open it,” Nick ordered.

Steven carefully opened the envelope and saw
a vacuum-sealed freezer bag stuffed with cash. He looked at Nick in
amazement.

“It’s $75,000,” Nick answered casually.
“You’ll need spending money. Use the cash so you don’t leave a
trail.”

“Can you get me a gun?” Steven asked.

Nick sneered. “Get it yourself, hotshot.
While you’re at it, get yourself a new car, too. This piece of shit
is in worse shape than Amanda’s van.” Nick turned and walked back
into the restaurant.

---------------

Steven finished packing and checked his
voicemail. He had two messages from Detective Johnston, one each
from his mother and sister, and a few from friends and relatives.
Steven had already made arrangements to sell his house and all his
personal property through his brother-in-law, Marco. Other than his
hosts at Peter Luger’s, Marco was the only person who knew Steven’s
plan. Steven had Marco’s blessing and assurances that he would tell
no one.

Steven grabbed a cold bottle of Budweiser
from the refrigerator, sat down in his recliner, and studied his
airline e-ticket bought using his credit card, which he planned to
max out, knowing that he would be dead before the bill arrived. He
ignored Nick’s advice about using cash; an amateur decision by a
novice hunter. He ran his fingers across the ticket. What am I
doing? he thought
.
I’m in the food business. Alberto and
Nick were right, this is suicide! Steven picked up a recent
photograph of his wife and daughter taken a few weeks before their
deaths. Amanda wore a maternity bathing suit and Catarina was
kissing her belly. He vividly remembered that wonderful day at the
beach with his family. It was the first time he had introduced his
daughter to the ocean. Steven absentmindedly rubbed the picture,
stroking his wife’s stomach and daughter’s face. He cried.

The telephone rang and jolted Steven
painfully into the present.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Steven, it’s Detective Johnston. I called
earlier. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steven replied in a
monotone voice. “I just got home and heard your messages.”

“Have you got a minute? I wanted to update
you on the investigation.”

“Go ahead.”

“We think the same gun was used in the
murders of Tony and Rosina Olivaro, his partners Tony and Sal,
their girlfriends, and your family. The killer used a Glock 234
with a silencer; not something we see every day. Obviously we don’t
have much on the killer, yet. We know he acted alone, moved very
quickly, and committed several murders. What we did learn, working
with the Manhattan Police, was that records of Olivaro’s company
showed shipments to Gia’s Pride Imports in San Remo, Italy. Does
that name mean anything to you?”