I went over the events of the evening. I now realized Marco had wanted me out of the picture from the start. I recalled my first meeting with him at the factory and his threatening nature even in the early stages of the interview process. Given what I’d discovered tonight, I wondered when Marco had decided to put a tail on me. I was sure now he had hired the guy to have my room bugged. I was also convinced that everything Mosconi told me about Marco was true. After what had happened tonight, I would never be able to tell Maggie or Vespucci the truth. The opportunity was gone. Maggie was going to marry Marco. We would fly back to Los Angeles. The end.
But not really and there was this: I knew Marco’s secret. And now he knew that I knew. How long was he going to let me live with his secret? Not long, I was sure.
As we closed in on the hotel, I wondered what my next move should be. I was sure if Maggie discovered Marco had a child in Europe by a fifteen-year-old girl, she’d have second thoughts about going through with the wedding. I was even more confident that Vespucci would do much more than just stop the wedding if he discovered Marco was an informant for the FBI. But was Marco an informant for the FBI? The baby I was now sure of, but the FBI charge was more complicated. I had no proof. Everything was circumstantial.
Donovan and I passed through the doors into the hotel. I was suddenly hit with the silly thought that I might have to find another way to make a living. Until recently, I had successfully finished every story I’d ever been hired to write. But now I had two failed projects back to back. Maybe the writing was on the wall. Then I figured it might not matter because Marco could end my writing career for good.
A familiar voice broke my thoughts.
“Jon Fixx.”
I turned in the direction of Luci’s voice, spotting him walking out of the restaurant and bar toward us. As he approached he said, “I hope you’re night has been as productive as mine. You’ll both like what I found—” He stopped in midsentence when he got close enough to see the new bruises on my face. Alarmed, he asked, “What happened?”
“Long story. I’m starving. Donovan?”
“Me too. Guns make me hungry.”
“Guns? What guns?” Luci asked sharply.
“Let’s eat and I’ll explain,” I said.
Luci did a one-eighty and followed us back into the restaurant. We walked the length of the bar and took our seats at a white square table in the corner easily out of earshot of anyone in the restaurant.
“What happened?”
“Marco,” I said.
Luci stared at us both, waiting for more.
I did a recap for Luci of the evening’s events, starting with our arrival at Vespucci’s house and my initial discussion with Maggie. How I ended up in the study alone with Marco and Maggie while Donovan was entertaining Sabrina. How I pushed Marco over the edge.
Luci pointed at my face. “That’s when he did that?”
I nodded. “I’m sure what Mosconi told us is all true. Marco’s reactions were those of a guilty man trying to hide something. Maggie has no idea. I don’t think Vespucci knows either.”
“We’ll come back to that. Tell me about the guns.”
I resumed my story, telling him what happened when Vespucci entered the picture. I told him Marco had pictures of us with Williams and Detective Hunt and had told Vespucci that we were working with the authorities.
“And Vespucci still let you two walk out of there?” Luci asked.
Donovan added, “I’ve been thinking about that myself.”
“Vespucci fired me. He wants me out of the city tomorrow.”
“You’re lucky all he did was fire you,” Luci said.
“I’m not sure what to do here. Vespucci’s instructions left no room for interpretation. He wants me to leave, and I don’t want to anger him further. But what about Maggie?”
Donovan and Luci remained silent, giving me room to answer my own question. Suddenly I was overcome with the desire to lay my head down on the table and go to sleep. I sighed. “She’s not my problem, right? So.” I submitted to my exhaustion, dropping my head on the table, taking a long breath and exhaling.
“Want to call it quits?” Luci asked quietly.
With my forehead resting against the table, I nodded my head, forcing the tablecloth to scrunch up under my skin.
“What if I told you I got confirmation that Mosconi’s story is true?”
I raised my head slightly off the table, looking up at Luci, my chin inches from the tabletop. “What?”
“My guy did some more checking for me. About three years ago, Marco Balducci was arrested in Palermo for murdering a man. But almost as quickly, he was let go. No charges were ever filed.”
I was now sitting up straight in my chair, renewed energy coursing through my body.
“According to my source, the dead man’s wife and teenage daughter disappeared within days of the murder. The girl was pregnant.” He paused for dramatic effect.
“With Marco’s kid?” I asked, almost breathless.
Luci nodded.
“Did Marco kill them too?”
“No. This is where it gets good. The Italian government took them under protection.”
Whatever I had expected Luci to say, this wasn’t it. I sat back in my chair, exhaling. “Wait. Are you saying Marco’s working for the Italian government?”
“Not exactly.”
Donovan and I sat rapt.
“It’s what we thought, sort of. For years, the FBI has been trying to figure out how to get information on Tony Vespucci’s organization. They’ve had next to no luck getting their hands on anything incriminating. Vespucci has done a better job than any recent don keeping his soldiers in line, and silent. When Marco got his teenage housekeeper pregnant, it started a chain of events that made him vulnerable. When the girl’s father found out what happened, he went to Marco, demanding he marry his daughter. A fight ensued and Marco beat the guy to death. The Italian authorities moved in, arresting him almost immediately.” Luci paused for a moment, then continued. “But according to my source, the FBI was behind the arrest, and that’s why he was let go. They made a deal with Marco. Spend his life in an Italian jail for murder, or come back to the States and help them gather enough information to bring down Vespucci and his Mafia chain of command.”
My mind was working overdrive. “That’s why Williams wanted me out of the way. He didn’t want me interfering with the investigation.”
“Exactly. Williams wasn’t involved with the original investigation, but when he started snooping around, tracking you for his cousin, he got wind of who you were working for and got himself reassigned to the investigation in New York. Higher command must have put him in charge of getting you out of the way.”
Suddenly, a realization hit me like a lightning bolt. I slapped my hands down on the table. “That means Marco’s entire affair with Maggie was a setup to get him close to Vespucci! The marriage is a sham. Marco doesn’t love her.”
Luci nodded almost imperceptibly, as if to say, that could only truly be answered by Marco himself, but given all the facts, yeah, probably.
“But you do, don’t you?” Donovan asked, his voice quiet.
I felt my companions’ eyes on me. I nodded. Yes, I do.
We sat there quietly, considering the implications of everything we’d just pieced together.
“Still want to go home tomorrow?” Luci asked.
I recognized that every moment we stayed in New York beyond the morning placed us in harm’s way. Vespucci had given me a direct order to leave the city. The FBI wanted me gone. Marco wanted me dead. If I was in danger, then so were Luci and Donovan. Donovan must have read my mind.
“Don’t worry about me. There ain’t nothing waiting for me back in L.A. I’m all in.”
“Me too, Jon.”
I could see the commitment and
loyalty reflected in their eyes, strength as well. “Then, we’re staying. I’m going to finish this story if it’s the last thing I do.”
As I said those words, I realized I very well might get my wish.
13 Early November – New York – 3rd Trip
Having collectively decided to ignore Vespucci’s direct order to leave New York, we settled into the hotel restaurant for dinner and planning. After ordering our food, we huddled around the table, laying out everything we knew, what pieces of the puzzle were facts, what was inference, and what was guesswork.
“We know for certain Marco Balducci got a teenage girl pregnant and killed her father. My guy verified what Mosconi told us,” Luci said.
“Two sources providing matching information. Safe to assume it’s fact. But did your guy give you anything to prove Marco is working for the FBI?” I asked.
“No.”
Donovan raised his hand, as if we were in a classroom. “I know I’m the new guy here, so I don’t want to step on your toes, but you don’t have a government clearance for classified information, do you?” Luci shook his head. “So why is this guy so helpful? How can you trust his information?”
“He’s been studying kung fu with me for over eight years. I met him in Philly back when my wife was in medical school. I was teaching at a local dojo, and his ten-year-old daughter was in my youth class. At the time, I’d never trained any of the government agency guys—FBI, CIA, NSA. He asked me to train him privately. I worked with him for over two years before I actually knew what he did for a living. By the time I started to piece it together, he’d already introduced me to a couple of his colleagues. Soon after, I found myself instructing for the CIA and the FBI on a regular basis. The pay is good, and I find most of the trainees are well disciplined, though some of them are a little too John Wayne for my taste.” Luci paused for emphasis. “I trust this man with my life. Any information he’s passing on to me is accurate, at least to the best of his knowledge.”
When Luci finished speaking, Donovan turned to me. “Please explain again why you need me here? Luci seems more than qualified to do my job.”
“I wasn’t sure Luci could provide twenty-four seven security. And it just felt right to me.”
Luci added, “You definitely look more intimidating than me. Just putting the sign up in the yard often stops most burglaries.”
“Don’t get me wrong, fellas, I’m glad to be here. It’s just that when Jon offered me the job, I didn’t realize I’d become part of a plot straight out of a Jason Bourne movie.”
“You’re very much one of the team, Donovan,” I said sincerely. I looked at Luci. “Can you get the name of the girl in Italy?”
“Already on it. I should have it by morning.”
“Good. I’ll need that.“
“But you need to know he cautioned me, and this guy is not prone to exaggeration,” Luci advised. “If we’re correct about Marco, the FBI has a mole near the top of one of the largest Mafia organizations in the U.S., and it’s taken years of work and planning. If the FBI has even the slightest concern that we could screw that up, they’ll take us out in the blink of an eye. Then there’s Marco Balducci to consider. Think what will happen to him if he’s exposed. Marco will go to any length to protect his secret. Finally, we’ve got Tony Vespucci to deal with. He’s a wild card. Given the way he behaved tonight, he’s not a safe bet. We better have ironclad proof to hand him. Marco Balducci is engaged to his daughter. If we do this, and we’re wrong, we won’t be leaving New York.”
The table fell silent, all of us considering Luci’s words. He was right, and we all knew it. Our internal musings were interrupted by the arrival of our dinner. The server quickly circled the table, setting down a plate in front of each of us. Far hungrier than I had anticipated, I dug into my pasta without another word, using my fork to twirl up a large swirl of noodles and stuff them into my mouth. Luci and Donovan followed suit, a large steak before Donovan, salmon in front of Luci. For the next few minutes, none of us spoke while we ate. After my initial bout of hunger was satiated, I sat back, taking a sip of my water. I set my fork down on the table. “If Luci’s source is correct, the FBI will go to any length to protect Marco, right? And Marco will do anything to protect his own life, right? So all we need to do is make him implicate himself.”
“Just like that?” Luci asked pragmatically. “Do you have a plan for this simple task?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m working on it.”
“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
Donovan added, “Let’s not forget Jon put Marco on notice tonight. My guess’d be that Jon’s demise is at the top of Marco’s “To Do” list right now.”
“That’s why we to need act immediately.”
We skipped dessert, paid the bill, and left the restaurant. Entering the lobby of the hotel, we were on high alert, all three of us scanning our surroundings for anything suspicious. Every moment we spent in New York was dangerous now. But even if we left in the morning for Los Angeles, I knew I’d always be looking over my shoulder for Marco’s payback. That’s why I wanted to put my plan in motion as soon as possible. The only problem was that I didn’t have a plan yet. We piled into the elevator, climbed to our floor, and exited cautiously. Donovan wouldn’t let me leave the elevator until he made sure the hallway was clear. Moving quickly, Donovan stopped before our door, checking his tell to make sure no one had been inside. Not seeing anything out of place, he unlocked the door and we disappeared into the safety of our room.
We immediately sprawled out. Donovan dropped into his cot near the door, and Luci slid into the lounge chair by the window so he could check out the view. I fell onto the bed closest to the door, nervous and exhausted. After only a moment in that position, I turned my head toward Luci, watching him gaze out the window, suddenly remembering the pictures Vespucci had shoved in my face. I quickly stood up, crossing to the window and stared at the buildings across from us as if I might be able to spot the perpetrators of the damning pictures. Unable to see anything incriminating, I stepped back from the window and closed the shades from any prying eyes.
Luci got up out of his chair and rolled onto the second bed. Within minutes, the sound of even breathing came at me from both sides of the room, my friends both falling into an easy sleep. If either of them was worried about our currently tenuous position, neither showed any sign of it. Unlike my relaxed co-conspirators, I couldn’t settle down. Pushing my tiredness aside, accepting that it was going to be a long night, I got to work. I grabbed my computer and powered it up. From the moment Vespucci had asked me to leave his house and not return, my thoughts of Maggie and her predicament weighed on me. I now had proof that Marco was a father. If Luci’s guy came through in the morning, I’d even have a name for the mother. The urge to expose him to Maggie was overpowering.
I began reading the rough outline of Maggie and Marco’s love story. A thought occurred to me. My fingers began to trip across the keyboard, the germs of an idea taking shape. I decided even if my patron had fired me, I was going to finish the project whether the key players wanted to read it or not, and I was going to write the truth. But this time, unlike in the case of the Nickels clan, I was fully aware of what the consequences could be. The clock ticked away, the regular breathing of Donovan and Luci keeping me company as I typed. I jumped back and forth between my notes and the rough draft, inspired as I wrote. As I lost track of the time—a good indication I was in the flow—Maggie and Marco’s love story took shape on the screen. I glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen. It was well past midnight, but I still had a long way to go. I began writing the section covering Marco’s long hiatus outside the States. I’d had trouble with this section previously because I had a dearth of information about Marco’s time in Italy, so I used poetic license to fill in the gaps and make the story flow. Marco became a young, savvy entrepreneur on Italian soil, tak
ing the family business to a new level of economic success while developing connections with powerful politicians. Women came and went. But after several years in country, he was getting bored. He needed excitement, thrills, something more. So maybe it was boredom, maybe he’d found his first true connection since leaving the States, maybe it was just an undeniable urge that made him want to sleep with a fifteen-year-old girl.
As I focused on Marco, my cheek started to throb, feeling Marco’s fist connect with it over and over. I heard Vespucci’s voice telling me to get out as Marco began laughing hysterically, a hyena-like sound that hurt my ears. After a few moments, I raised my hands to my ears, the sound of his laughter getting louder. I knew I was imagining it, but the sound in my head was real. The touch of my palms to my ears shut the laughter off, and Marco’s face disappeared from view.
“Jon, you okay?”
It was Donovan’s voice. I had been working in the dark, the glow of my screen the only light in the room, so it was hard for me to see him. I turned on the small nightstand beside my bed. Donovan was up on one elbow, shadows riding across his face. Sensing movement from the other direction, I turned to see Luci’s eyes open as well.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You yelled ‘Stop it.’”
“Marco was laughing at me.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized I sounded foolish, maybe even a little bit crazy.
“Marco?” Luci asked.
Sitting up, Donovan asked, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Forget it,” I answered. “I’m sorry for waking you guys up. When I’m writing, sometimes I get lost in my thoughts and I talk to myself. It’s nothing.”
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