Escape, the Complete Trilogy

by David Antocci

  He nodded and smiled. “You’re the boss.”

  “Don’t placate me,” she said seriously.

  He grinned. He wasn’t placating her—he meant it.

  Abby excused herself to the parking lot to make a phone call. As she dialed the number from memory, she hoped he would be able to do something with the info she had.

  JJ’s groggy voice came from the other end of the line. “Yeah? Who’s this?”

  “I was able to get some information,” she said excitedly.

  “Abby, do you ever call at a normal hour?”

  * * *

  Donny watched Abby through the window. She was having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. He couldn’t believe she was back, yet he wasn’t surprised either. Something inside always told him he would see her again.

  Whether he wanted to admit it or not, there was truth to what he had been thinking earlier: he didn’t get out when she did because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing everything. It wasn’t the mob life he was afraid of losing—it was her.

  He had never been truly in with the family, even though his dad had been part of the Rosso operation for years. Donny always felt like an outsider looking in. He tried going in another direction entirely, attending college to study film, but that was a career with a tough road ahead. He realized it early, and when he ran into a little financial trouble, he took some time off to work for his dad and make a little cash. One thing led to the next, and all these years later, he was still in the game.

  He saw the life as a means to an end, but always felt like he could walk away at any point. At least until he met Abby. He was drawn to her and wasn’t entirely sure why. Her looks would have been an obvious place to start, but he knew it was more than that. He felt a connection with her the first time he saw her, even though she didn’t seem to notice him until that night he pulled Bryce off her.

  Maybe it was because she was an outsider, too, caught up in this game and not sure what to do about it.

  Now, she was a force to be reckoned with. He was proud that she had taken control of her life. No one would screw her over again.

  He loathed Bryce more now than he ever had in the past. The bastard kidnaped a child—his own daughter—in order to kill her mother. He remembered that sweet little girl. The last time he saw her was at the airport when they put her on a plane to Canada so she could stay at Abby’s sister’s house. She wore a cute pink beret and her favorite navy blue dress. Abby was completely inconsolable after Ava left, and a short time later had just about completely cut him off. He couldn’t blame her then or now. She had to protect herself emotionally and physically from everyone around her.

  The thought of that adorable little girl, likely tied up somewhere with his monster of a former boss, enraged him. The guys back at the house had obviously pieced together what he had done as far as helping Abby. He had hidden his involvement in helping her get out before, but there was no doing that now. He couldn’t go back.

  * * *

  “That’s all you’ve got?” JJ asked.

  “For now. Bryce is laundering money upstate. No info on where.”

  JJ thought about it. “Well, it’s got to be upstate New York. I mean, I guess it could be somewhere else, but I don’t know any other place that people refer to as upstate, do you?”

  “That was my thought, too.”

  “Well, that narrows it down, but it doesn’t give me too much. It’s not like I was even looking in that direction. I’ve never had any indication before that he was in New York.”

  “Well, let’s look at the money laundering, then. What do you have on that?”

  JJ sighed. “There’s a lot of money going through the family, Abby. I don’t have a lead on all of it, especially as I’ve never had any indication that’s where we should be looking.” He thought a moment. “It does tell us where to look, though.”

  “Where’s that?”

  JJ was scrolling through the notes on his tablet on the other end. “Hold on a second... here it is. John Venzo. His name came up a bunch in the financials. He’s got an accounting firm off Taylor Street, in Chicago, near the University of Illinois. Small place; looks like he’s the only employee. A ton of cash goes through there, and all the businesses link back to Rosso in some way every time. I’m sure he’s on the Feds’ radar, too. It looks like he does the books for the family. He probably doesn’t know where Bryce is, or even that he’s out there somewhere, but if he’s laundering, then the cash records are going to be there.”

  Abby was already planning in her head. “How tough do you think this will be to find?”

  “Hard to say. I’ve got more stuff at the office, so let me go in and dig around. I’ll call you back in an hour.”

  “You can’t, I’m calling you on a burner. I don’t want anyone tracing you to me, or what went down here tonight.”

  JJ was silent on the other end for a moment, knowing full well what Abby was capable of. “Who gave you this info about Bryce being upstate?”

  “Rosso.”

  “Abby, how in the world did you...”

  “Isn’t a little mystery better than me just telling you? Watch the news in the morning if you really want to know what went down. You’ll be proud, that’s all I have to say.”

  “I can be out there first thing in the morning. It looks like I can catch an 8:30 flight, touching down at noon. Let me come out and give you a hand. These are dangerous guys. You could use the help.”

  “No, JJ. I’ve got no time to waste. Every minute that goes by is another minute Ava is with that lunatic, in God-knows-what condition. Besides, I’ve got someone helping me. I’m OK.”

  “You do? Who? Who is helping you?”

  Abby looked at Donny through the window, sitting back at the table seemingly lost in thought himself. “An old friend. Don’t worry, he’s someone I can trust.”

  “Alright, well, be careful. Call me if you get stuck; we’ll reassess.”

  “Will do. Thanks, JJ.”

  Abby went back inside and sat across from Donny, leaning over the table. “You know who this John Venzo guy is?”

  Donny thought a second. “Yeah, he does the books. He’s got a place in the old neighborhood. Why?”

  “That’s where we’re going next.”

  12

  HOURS LATER, in the middle of the night, Abby and Donny had seemingly gone through every piece of paper in the accountant’s office. For all of their efforts, they had found nothing.

  They had flipped through every folder in every file cabinet. Invoices and ledgers for an endless list of supply companies, restaurants, and construction businesses. Everything looked legitimate as far as their untrained eyes could tell, and nothing indicated a business in New York, upstate or otherwise.

  “Do you think it would be on the computer?” Abby speculated out loud. They hadn’t touched the computer yet; beyond waking it up to find it was—predictably— password protected.

  “No,” Donny said. “Nothing illegal ever makes it onto a computer with the family. Rosso never trusted them, and he’s probably right about that. Venzo’s got to have another set of books here. I mean, the feds could ransack this place just as easily as us, and they’d know what they’re looking for. Anything that could be tied to laundering is not going to be easily accessible. This is just all the legit-looking stuff. It’s not going to be on a computer. It’s going to be handwritten—nothing that can be tracked or hacked.”

  “Well, where do we find it, then?”

  Donny sighed. “Honestly, we could probably tear this place up from the floorboards and not find what we’re looking for.” He shook his head, looking around.

  Abby checked her watch; it was three in the morning. The office would presumably open around eight, give or take. “You think he’ll be here in the morning? With what happened last night?”

  Donny thought about it. “That’s a good question. Rosso is dead. Franco is dead. Mikey G. is dead. Even Monte i
s dead. Shit, they’re all dead. The one that’s got me worried is Jerry.”

  “Who’s Jerry?”

  “Monte’s number two. He was in our crew. I guess he’s in charge now. At least he’ll try to take over what’s left. I can guarantee two things: he’ll be combing the city for you—us—and if he finds us, we’d better be ready. He’s violent and reactionary. Doesn’t really think things through, so I doubt his first order of business is going to be to call the accountant to fill him in on what went down. I’m thinking it’s a safe bet that it’ll be business as usual. At least first thing. Mob guys are worse than hairdressers when it comes to gossip, though, so it won’t be noon before everyone knows what went down.”

  “That and they’ll see it on the news,” she said with a smile.

  “I don’t know about that. These mob guys are pretty tight-lipped. I mean, yeah, there’s four dead bodies, but I bet Rosso’s the only one that will hit the news. They’ll take care of the others themselves. It’s not like the guys we left behind are going to call the police or something,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Well, maybe they didn’t.” Abby had a devilish smile about her.

  Donny gave her a quizzical look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Before we left, I took a phone off the hook in the kitchen and dialed 9-1-1.”

  “You what?”

  “Like you said, none of them would do it, and I did sort of gift wrap the whole place. Should be easy work for the detectives. Plus, it should keep them off our backs for a few days at least. Enough time to do what I’ve got to do and get outta here.”

  “Well, you’re probably right—they’ll see it on the news. Let’s hope our guy doesn’t watch the early broadcast before he comes in.”

  “What about the accountant? Do you know him?”

  “No, but I know of him. Met him twice, but I don’t know too much about him. He’s sort of on the outskirts of the family. Keeps his nose and hands clean. He’s got to. If he got pinched by the cops or the feds, that would be bad news for everyone. He’s Rosso’s distant nephew or something.”

  Abby walked over to the desk and took a gun out of the top drawer she had found there earlier. It was old school; a revolver, loaded. She emptied the bullets and put them in her pocket. She went back to Donny who was still fruitlessly flipping through some papers. “Here’s what I’m thinking: we have a couple hours. Let’s get some shuteye in the back room and have a little conversation with John in the morning.”

  The two of them spent the next thirty minutes going through the office, making sure that everything was put back exactly where they found it. There was a back room behind the main office with a microwave and a coffee pot on a small table pushed up against the wall, and a collection of old mismatched file boxes on the wall facing the door.

  Abby curled into a ball on the floor next to the boxes. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she got the panicked call from her sister that Ava was missing, and she had been running high on adrenaline ever since. For the past hour, her body had been fighting her every effort at thought or movement, and she was ready to crash.

  Donny took off his jacket and laid it over her to use as a blanket, then sat on the floor next to her, leaning against the boxes so he could watch the door, just in case.

  “Thanks,” Abby said. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

  “I’m good. I can’t anyway. I’ll keep an eye out—you get some rest.”

  “Thanks again,” Abby said, adjusting herself to put an arm under her head for support as she lay on the floor.

  “Here,” he said, patting his leg. “You can use me for a pillow.”

  Abby looked up and thought about declining, but Donny’s smile made her remember the comfort that one feels with a trusted friend. She laid her head on his thigh, enjoying a little cushion for her neck and the warmth of his skin that she felt through his jeans. Within seconds, she was asleep.

  Donny rested his left hand on her shoulder and leaned his head back against the boxes, watching the door. In his right hand, he held his gun.

  * * *

  With her eyes still closed, Abby stretched out on the floor and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of a fresh brewed pot of coffee. She smiled, opening her eyes, almost forgetting where she was for just a moment. Donny sat on the floor next to her, also asleep.

  Wait a second...

  “Donny,” she whispered harshly, shaking him awake.

  He opened his eyes, rubbing the sand from them. “What time is it?”

  Abby held her finger to her lips, giving him a silent shhh.

  She listened but heard nothing other than the slow drip of the coffee pot finishing its brewing cycle.

  Donny realized what was happening and stood slowly, edging his way to the door and peeking through to see who was out there. He saw no one from his vantage point but couldn’t see the entire room. He looked back at Abby and shook his head. “Nothing,” he whispered.

  Abby eased her way to the door, crouched low as she whispered, “I’ll go low, you go high, on three.”

  Gripping her gun with her right hand, she used the fingers on her left to count down 3...2...1...

  They burst through the door at the same time, guns drawn, searching for a target and finding none.

  Abby looked at the clock on the wall. It was five minutes to eight, and the blinds on the front windows were still drawn. She relaxed and turned back to the small room where they had come from, looking at the coffee pot. “Must be on a timer.”

  “Geez.” Donny almost laughed. “That’s a helluva way to wake up.”

  She smiled. “It’ll get the blood flowing anyway.”

  With the coffee already made, they figured his little back room was probably the accountant’s first stop when he got in. They poured some coffee for themselves and waited.

  It was a few minutes after eight when they heard a key in the front door and the deadbolt turn. They put their coffees down, drew their guns, and eased behind the door so they would not be seen when he entered the room.

  As they suspected, after opening the blinds and putting down his briefcase, John Venzo came waltzing into the back room for a cup of Joe.

  * * *

  Driving into the city, John was counting down the days he had left to make this damned commute. He had a nice little house just outside the city—a modest place, nice lawn, and a little back yard for his son to play in. Every morning he wondered if he would be coming back.

  He wasn’t worried about getting killed in a mob hit or anything like that. Rosso made sure that he was insulated from all of the more exciting parts of the family, and for that, John was thankful. Besides, since the Rossos had won their war with the Patrizios, there were no other powerful families to pose a threat. It was a nice situation to be in.

  No, John’s concern was with the feds. Specifically, how quickly could they relocate him and his family into witness protection once the old man died and he turned over all the evidence needed to lock up the remaining family? He felt no remorse for betraying the family. He hated the life; always looking over his shoulder, hiding money here and there, coming into the city every day.

  Unbeknownst to him at the time, Rosso had given his mother money to pay for John’s college education. When he got out, he wasn’t given a choice: work for the family, or his mother had to pay back the loan in twenty-four hours. Eighty thousand dollars was more than she kept laying around, so working for the family it was.

  He knew the feds had to be on to what his small but very profitable firm was doing for Rosso, and he left a few breadcrumbs here and there until they showed up at his front door about a month ago.

  They knew Rosso was sick and were looking to shut down the entire operation. John was the key, and they ironically made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He and his family would be relocated to the Northwest, with every need taken care of. John would teach economics at a quiet state university to keep busy, and they would lead the life that he and his wif
e had been dreaming of for years.

  As he entered the back room, he wondered if today might be the day. Last he heard, Rosso only had a few days left. His instructions were to keep everything running as quietly as ever after Rosso passed, and then report directly to Franco. Nothing else would change.

  As he went to pour himself a mug from the ten cup coffee pot, he noticed it was only half full.

  “What the...”

  He heard a woman’s voice behind him, cold as steel. “Turn around, and make it slow.”

  * * *

  John turned, his arms instinctively raised. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

  “No joke,” Abby smiled. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to help me. If you do, you’ll be fine.”

  John put his hands down and turned to pick up his coffee. Taking a sip, he replied calmly, “Why don’t you put the gun down and tell me what you want?”

  Abby looked at Donny, a bit confused.

  John laughed. “You think you scare me? You know who I am, right? This isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun in my face, honey.” He looked back and forth between his two captors, then over Donny’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

  As the two instinctively looked behind Donny, John rushed toward the front room ahead of them, going for his gun. He fumbled with the drawer before finding his gun and whirling it around, stopping Abby and Donny dead in their tracks

  “Put down the gun!” John yelled.

  Abby lowered her gun to the floor and held up her hands.

  Donny seemed surprised that she acquiesced so quickly but followed her lead and did the same.

  John smiled at Donny. “You don’t scare me. I know who you are, and Rosso is going to have you fuckin’ drawn and quartered if I tell him you came here threatening me. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m not telling you shit. Now why don’t you and your little girlfriend get out of here before things end badly for you? If you’re lucky, I won’t tell Rosso about this.”