The Santini Vendetta

by Christopher Fox

“Is this ever going to end though? If you get her back, what’s preventing the Santinis from kidnapping her again, or anyone else close to you?”

  “We have to find a solution that ends it, other than paying back all the ten million, which I won’t be able to do. I’m wishing now I didn’t take on a mafia mobster. What was I thinking?” said Alberto.

  “Too late for regrets now. What’s done is done.”

  * * * *

  Kyle drove into San José to meet with Frederico. He saw him sitting in a booth near the back of Julio’s and waved acknowledgement. Frederico got up as Kyle approached and held out his hand.

  “Good to see you, my friend,” Frederico said with a grin.

  “Likewise,” said Kyle.

  They both deposited themselves in the booth and slid along the seat. Frederico was already nursing a coffee and before long, a server appeared and Kyle ordered a coffee.

  “Have you ordered breakfast yet?” Kyle asked.

  “No,” said Frederico, looking at the smiling waitress. “But she knows what I always have.”

  “Two eggs over easy, home fries, brown toast and coffee, black,” Kyle said, ordering a traditional North American breakfast listed as a speciality with Julio’s.

  “Gracias,” the server said and scurried away.

  “So,” said Frederico. “What’s on your mind?”

  Kyle outlined the story about Carmen’s kidnapping. Frederico was well aware of the raid on Kyle’s hotel by Alberto and his group.

  “Not unexpected,” Frederico said.

  “No,” agreed Kyle. “It was dangerous to take on a powerful organisation such as the Santini family, but that’s water under the bridge now. What’s worse is that Alberto’s mother needs medication for a treatment she’s undergoing.”

  The server returned with a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Gracias,” said Kyle.

  “De nada,” she said as she topped up Frederico’s mug.

  “The other problem is,” continued Kyle, “is that Alberto doesn’t have the money now to pay back to Lorenzo. He says he has four million left in cash, but there’s no way he will can raise the rest. That means that his mother’s going to die unless they can get her back.”

  “How do they intend to do that?” Frederico asked.

  “Alberto wants me to meet with Lorenzo and upload a spyware onto his phone so they can track his calls and location and find out where they are keeping her. He had another man, Alex, upload the software onto my phone. Once they have her location, they can go and get her.”

  Frederico sat in thought, wanting to say something, but electing not to.

  “Santini is sending down the jet to collect his money.” Kyle said. “I am supposed to convince Lorenzo to allow me to return on the plane with Carmen’s medicine.”

  “Maybe he will suggest putting the medicine on the plane.”

  “Possibly, but I will insist that I go along to make sure nothing happens to her.”

  “You realise however,” said Federico, “that you are going into the lion’s den. When the phones are linked, and the software is being uploaded, the screen lights up. If he notices it, he may suspect something, especially if he knows about the existence of the software.”

  “I guess I just have to be careful,” said Kyle.

  “What is it that you want from me?” Frederico asked.

  “Just wanted to run it by you, that’s all. I know this is more up your street than mine. I know I am just the messenger and shouldn’t worry about Lorenzo taking his wrath out on me.”

  “I don’t think that is a major concern, as long as he doesn’t detect the loading of the software. I will call a friend of mine in Chicago who will help you with anything you may need if you run into any trouble. I’ll text you his number.”

  “Thanks for that,” Kyle said.

  Their breakfasts arrived and they both stopped talking to enjoy the meal. When finished, they engaged in small talk and the server removed the plates and topped up their coffees. When finished, Frederico bade his goodbye to Kyle and returned to his office.

  * * * *

  Kyle called Lorenzo and explained about the medication for Carmen and that he would bring the money with him.

  “Trying to build up your frequent flier points with Santini Air?” Lorenzo quipped.

  “I just want to see that she gets her medication,” Kyle said.

  “Why are you so interested in helping this guy? Didn’t he just raid your hotel?”

  Kyle really did not have an answer to that. It was true that Alberto had put his guests in danger, but it was clear that he had no malicious intentions to anyone, including Peppe and his family. Alberto and others like him had certainly been taken advantage of by the Santinis, who used them as second-class citizens to further their corrupt empire. Kyle liked to root for the little guy and it was evident that Alberto was the little guy in this issue.

  “Just there to mediate any issues.”

  “What issues should there be? He knows the deal and the consequences if he breaks it.”

  “There are always issues in situations like these,” Kyle said.

  “OK. Just make sure you have the money you.” Lorenzo said, and the line went dead.

  Nine

  Kyle stood on the apron of the Tobias Bolaños Airport, shielding his eyes from the bright afternoon sun, and watched as the Gulfstream taxied to the area in front of the private terminal. He was a little uncomfortable carrying $4m in cash in a two carryall bags and would feel better once he boarded the plane. Fortunately, the private terminal did not have X-ray scanners, and no one asked what was in the carryalls. He had warmer clothes and a winter jacket stacked on top of the stacks of $100 bills, plus a travel kit, but moving a few items in the bag by any inspection would reveal the money.

  Louie appeared in the doorway as the door lifted up and he unfolded the steps. Kyle climbed the steps and greeted Louie.

  “How are you?” Kyle said.

  “Great,” Louie responded offering his hand.

  Kyle shook his hand and Louie stepped back to allow Kyle into the plane. Kyle found a seat, and Louie retrieved the steps and closed the door. Kyle could see the back of Andrew’s head in the co-pilot's seat as Louie joined him. The plane taxied to the end of the runway and took off. They climbed to cruising altitude and Kyle reclined the seat, taking the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. He awoke two hours later and Andrew came through the cabin with drinks and snacks. He advised Kyle that there were about three more hours of flying time and, after consuming the food and drinks, Kyle laid back and dozed again.

  Kyle awoke when the plane hit the runway at Chicago; hardly believing he had slept another three hours. He looked at his watch–it was 7:35. The trip had taken just over five hours and Kyle retired to the washroom to change clothes and freshen up.

  The bitter cold hit Kyle as he descended the gangway and trudged through the dusting of snow to the terminal. No car waited for him this time, so after clearing customs–he left the money on the plane with Louie–he called for a cab after booking a room at a Holiday Inn Suites–a lot less pretentious than the Waldorf Astoria. He checked the iPhone’s weather app and determined it was -10ºC and light snow, tapering off over night, but more snow in the forecast for tomorrow. He didn’t realize how much he hated the cold weather since leaving Canada over ten years ago.

  The cab arrived; the driver placed the carryall in the trunk and Kyle got in the back after giving the driver the name of the hotel. They exited the terminal and headed toward downtown. Wipers oscillated back and forth to clear the accumulation of snow from the windshield as traffic slowed to a crawl on the I-90. Even when they finally exited the freeway, the traffic was still slow. The cabby stopped at an intersection showing a red light, then eased away, wheels spinning, when the light turned green. The road they were crossing had four lanes and a large truck was stopped, obscuring the inner lane.

  Kyle shouted, “Wat
ch out!”

  A car skidded through the intersection in the inner lane, wheels locked, and headed for the cab. The cabby braked, but had insufficient speed to attempt any evasive manoeuvre. Kyle braced for the inevitable crash as the car slid toward them. Kyle could see the panicked look on the woman's face driving the other car as she tried desperately to turn the wheels, but the car ploughed ahead, being an older car and not fitted with anti-lock brakes. It was also front-wheel drive which, despite some manufacturer’s claims, is the worst configuration for vehicle control in such situations. If she had taken her foot off the brake, she may have had enough traction to avoid the taxi. But the normal reaction, except for trained drivers, is to keep your foot on the brake, causing understeer. The two vehicles collided. The taxi spun through 45º while the other car glanced off, coming to rest facing the same direction as the taxi. Kyle, sitting on the right-hand side of the cab, ducked down, placing his head on the next seat. The cab driver would have been propelled into the passenger seat if not for the wheel to grasp onto.

  Kyle raised his head and said to the driver, “You OK?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Kyle opened the door and stepped out of the cab, only to slip and fall on the icy road. He forgot he had shoes on with no grips. Getting up, he carefully made his way to the other car, and tapped on the window.

  “You OK?” he said to the distraught woman. She was clearly in shock, but apparently unharmed. The airbag, if one was fitted, did not deploy. She looked dazedly at Kyle, then wound down the window.

  “I am so sorry,” she said. “I just couldn’t stop. Is anyone hurt?”

  “No, we’re fine. Just shaken up a little. Looks like you have a few dents to the front of your car.”

  The cabby came over to them, an annoyed expression on his face.

  “Look what you’ve done to my cab,” he said, pointing at the crumpled fender and scattering of plastic fittings and broken lenses. “Do you realize how much money I lose while it’s in for repair?”

  “I am so sorry,” she said again and burst into tears. “I tried to stop, but couldn’t.”

  Kyle walked the cabby away from the woman and said, “No point in making her feel any worse than she does. You could have ensured all traffic was stopped before pulling into the intersection.”

  The cabby's face turned red. “So, it’s my fault now? I had the green light.”

  “No, it’s not your fault, but one could say you had the last clear chance of avoidance.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Look,” said Kyle, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. “Here is my card. I can be a witness. How much do I owe you?”

  “I’ll have to check the meter,” he said walking back to the cab.

  “And call another cab please,” Kyle shouted after him, and returned to the other car.

  “Does the car still run?” he asked the woman.

  She turned the ignition key and it started.

  “Seems to be fine,” she said, still sobbing.

  “Here is my card,” said Kyle as he handed it to her through the window. “I can be a witness if anyone needs one.”

  “Thank you,” she said, drying her eyes on a soggy tissue. “I’m on my way to the hospital, I’m a night nurse there. Guess I will be late.”

  Kyle was unsure of the protocol for accidents in Chicago. In some areas, there was no requirement to call police in cases of minor damage and no injuries. Surely, the cabby knew the proper course of action. He paid the cabby and waited for an alternate ride which, considering the weather, took over 30 minutes.

  It took over an hour to reach the hotel, passing several other fender-benders on the way. Kyle had sent a text to Lorenzo advising his arrival and requested a meeting in the morning. He received a reply an hour later to meet in his office at 11:00 a.m., which suited Kyle fine.

  * * * *

  Alberto's mother, Carmen, sat despondent in the small room. It looked like a bedroom and had a single bed, a chair with a padded seat and a small chest of drawers. There was no window, and she presumed she was in a basement. The only illumination came from a single curly-que bulb dangling from the centre of the ceiling with a pull cord to turn it on and off. She barely remembered the abduction—dragged from her home after being ousted from her bed.

  “Pack a suitcase,” the man had said, “You’re going on a trip–and pack warm.”

  Her question asking where they were going met with a null response. Because she lived in Costa Rica most of her life, except for the few years living in Chicago with her family, she really had no need for warm clothing. She rustled up a sweater and coat she hadn’t worn for years, plus a pair of ankle boots and some socks.

  Hustling her out of the door to a waiting car they drove to the airport, ushering her up the steps of a private jet. It was only when the plane took off that she realized that in her hurry to pack, she had thrown in some make-up but forgot her medication. When first returning from Panama after the stem-cell implants, Alberto had arranged for a private nurse to attend to her and give the injections necessary to stop her antibodies from rejecting the stem cells until they had a chance to develop naturally within her body.

  She tried to rest for the five hours on the plane, but sleep evaded her. Her mind tried to process what was happening, and she knew it was something to do with the recent skirmish her son had with the Santini family. She tried to talk him out of it when he outlined his plan to get restitution for the killing of his father, but she knew it fell on deaf ears. Alberto would not forget the experience of seeing his papa shot down in front of him and often vowed revenge. She thought he had put it out of his mind, but the need for money when she got sick reignited the reprisal thoughts.

  The plane landing in Chicago confirmed her fears; that the Santinis had abducted her. She shivered from the cold when she stepped from the plane, wrapping her arms around herself as they led her to an awaiting limousine. The trunk was open and her abductor reached for the suitcase and threw it into the trunk. He then unceremoniously propelled her into the trunk after it. She hit her head on the suitcase and suffered a blow to the leg as it hit the open edge of the trunk.

  “Make a sound and you’ll never see your son again,” he said as he slammed the lid down, the last few centimetres being pulled closed by the soft-close mechanism. It would not be possible to get her through customs and they rarely, if ever, asked to check the trunk while leaving the private terminal. The darkness in the trunk overwhelmed her, the only illumination being a feint halo of light around the taillight housings. In order not to collide with other items in the trunk with the car's movement, she tried to wedge herself against the sides. She lost track of time, not knowing how long she was in there. Thankfully, the car finally stopped and the trunk opened. Before helping her out of the trunk they blindfolded her with a black scarf, then led her up a path. Her other senses kicked in but told her little. The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow; a dog barking; a distant siren of an emergency vehicle. Carmen stumbled as her foot hit a step and the two people assisting her raised her by lifting under the elbows. She counted four steps, then a key clattered in a lock and a door opened. A waft of warm air hit her in the face and they helped her over the threshold. She felt the cold nose of a dog on her hand, which startled her.

  “Willy won’t hurt you,” the man said.

  The blindfold removed, she was led downstairs and into a room.

  "Can I use the washroom please?" she asked before she entered the room. The man considered this, then led her down the hall to another door, opened it and stood aside for her to enter after switching on the light. The noisy fan hummed away as she looked at her dishevelled face in the mirror. A red mark showed on her forehead, a result of the blow she received from hitting it on the suitcase in the trunk. She rolled up her pant leg and inspected the small laceration caused by the trunk release mechanism. She finished her ablutions and stepped out of the washroom. The man led her back to t
he other room and she entered.

  "May I have my purse and suitcase please?"

  The man said nothing and closed the door. Minutes later, he returned with her purse and suitcase. Rifling through her purse she noticed that her cell phone had been removed.

  After several hours, she heard the key turn in the lock and her captor stepped into the room, holding out a cell phone.

  “Someone wants to talk to you,” he said.

  She presumed it would be Alberto as she took the phone and placed it to her ear.

  “Alberto?” she said.

  “Mamá,” Alberto said.

  They spoke briefly, then the man grabbed the phone from her and left the room. Carmen heard the key turn in the lock.

  * * * *

  Kyle had lots of time before the 11:00 a.m. meeting with Lorenzo, so he made a few calls after finishing his shower and dressing in a shirt and pants more suited to the Chicago climate. He called Alberto and let him know he was there and that he planned to see his mother with the medication later in the day. Next, he called Alex to go over the process again for uploading the software—he would have a small window of opportunity and didn’t want to screw it up. He went downstairs to the hotel lobby and walked outside to a waiting cab.

  “Santini Tower,” he said to the cabby.

  “OK,” the driver said and engaged ‘Drive’ and pulled into the traffic. As forecast, it did snow again during the night and the roads were slushy but not slippery. He arrived at the Santini offices at 10:50, paid the cab and made his way through the revolving doors to the reception. He announced that he had a meeting with Lorenzo and the receptionist asked his name, then keyed in a number and spoke to someone at the other end–probably Carlita, his personal secretary.

  “Someone will be down for you shortly,” he said. “If you would take a seat.”

  Kyle made his way to one of the many lounges positioned around the cavernous lobby. The ceiling had to be at least 10 m high with huge chandeliers looking like suspended stalactites. Several high-bay LED recessed fixtures provided general lighting and, due to the overcast skies, were fully illuminated. Small trees were dotted among the lounges, illuminated with special UV-producing sources to mimic daylight. A man ambled up to Kyle.