Jon Fixx

by Jason Squire Fluck

  Cheryl settled into the driver’s seat, looking in her rearview. “Where to, Mr. Fixx?”

  “Cranston’s office.”

  Cheryl nodded, pulling quickly away from the curb. The limo slid in and out of traffic, Cheryl driving it more like a sports car than the tank it was. I spent the trip going over my game plan again with Donovan and Luci, discussing any possible problems, trying to see all of the angles. I was now past the point of no return. A big part of me wanted to do this to save face, to save my reputation, to show Vespucci that if I was anything, one thing I wasn’t was a snitch. I had to clear my name with him. Then there was Maggie. For the time being, I didn’t want to think about her. My motivations became muddled as soon as I threw Maggie into the mix.

  After close to an hour in the limo, we were back in Manhattan. Cheryl pulled into an alley and drove up to the rear of a tall office building. She rolled down the glass partition. “Mr. Fixx, this is the back entrance to Mr. Jefferson’s office. He said you should enter here.”

  “Thank you, Cheryl.”

  “Mr. Jefferson asked me to wait here for you. He said I’m to be at your disposal all day.” As soon as she finished speaking, she jumped out of the limo and opened the door for us. We climbed out and headed for the utility entrance, waving our thanks to Cheryl as we disappeared inside. Entering a hallway covered in drab gray paint, we passed doors leading to the working bowels of the building, some locked, some open, revealing dusty machinery. Then, like magic, we reached a small unmarked doorway that opened into the large, presentable lobby we had entered only days before. Taking a quick look around to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows, we crossed to the elevators and Luci pushed the call button. It lit up with a servile green glow. Moments later, the ding of arrival sounded in our ears. Luci, Donovan, and I piled in. Without a sound, the doors closed and the elevator seamlessly moved upward into the sky.

  I glanced at Donovan, noticing a concerned look on his face. Luci saw it at the same time.

  “What?”

  Donovan shook his head. “Don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, panic spreading up my spine.

  “Just a feeling. My gut. Used to happen to me sometimes before we went on a mission.”

  Before Luci or I could respond, the elevator doors opened. Trying to keep a lid on my rising panic, I looked from Luci to Donovan and back, both staring out of the elevator focused on the same thing. I looked out and my eyes locked onto Joey’s unsmiling face, standing directly in front of the elevator. Donovan moved to block me from stepping out. Luci reached for the panel of buttons, pushing the button to close the elevator doors. Nothing happened. Luci went into action immediately. He relaxed his body, glancing at Donovan as he stepped forward. Donovan read his actions, one step behind. I remained frozen, realizing that Cranston may have betrayed us. Luci’s shoulders were slumped, as if he were surrendering. As soon as he cleared the elevator doorframe, he jumped at Joey, catching Joey mid-stomach. As Joey flew backwards, he reached into his coat pocket to grab his gun. At the same time, Donovan cleared the doorway on his way to help Luci when another man slid right up to him, a gun pointed at his temple.

  “Stop!” I yelled. I jumped out of the elevator into the commotion, not wanting it to go any further. Luci had Joey pinned to the ground. An unidentified thug had Donovan frozen with a small pistol to his temple. From the corner of my eye, I saw Vespucci standing several feet away, Cranston only steps behind him.

  “Jerry.” It was all Vespucci said.

  Donovan’s handler slowly lowered his gun.

  Vespucci turned to me. “Jon, I want to talk with you.”

  I stared at Cranston, his tall frame hunched over slightly. I couldn’t believe the man I trusted with my life would betray me. Luci looked over his shoulder towards me, waiting for a signal. I shrugged my shoulders. He looked down at Joey, then jumping off him in one fluid move, offered his hand to help him up. Joey accepted the gesture. Cranston and Vespucci turned away from us at the same time, moving back in the direction of Cranston’s inner offices. I followed their steps, Donovan and Luci a few feet behind me, Joey bringing up the rear. We passed from the main lobby into the office lobby, empty except for the secretary at the front desk.

  As Cranston walked past her desk, he said, without looking up, “Shelley, no interruptions please.”

  “Yes, Mr. Jefferson.”

  Shelley watched the parade of men pass into Cranston’s inner sanctum, the testosterone in the air around us palpable. I lost sight of her as I walked through the double doors and saw New York spread out before us like a 3D floor-to-ceiling canvas. Cranston moved toward the large office chair behind his desk, as Vespucci settled on the edge of it. I looked over my shoulder, Luci and Donovan two steps behind me, with Joey guarding the door. Jerry, Vespucci’s other thug, was apparently on the other side of the door, making sure no one came in. I turned back to the power players in the room, waiting. From the moment we’d exited the elevators, I’d been running scenarios in my head, trying to figure out how we ended up here, and the only one I could come up with that made any sense involved Cranston ratting us out, setting us up, breaking my confidence. I hated thinking it, but I could not figure out any other way this would happen. Vespucci interrupted my thoughts.

  “Jon, first I want to apologize for last night at my house. For more reasons than I can outline here, it had to be done. Cranston warned me you’d be unpredictable.”

  Funny, that’s what I think about you. “How did you know we were coming here?” Vespucci tilted his head in Cranston’s direction.

  Picking up the cue, Cranston responded, “It’s not what you think, Jon. I feel responsible for what’s happening now. When you called me this morning, I needed to bring Tony in on this.”

  “Cranston, I called you in confidence,” I said, unable to hide the hurt and dismay in my voice. I glanced over my shoulder at Joey, who was guarding the door. I didn’t appreciate feeling like a prisoner, realizing maybe my friends and I actually were prisoners. Turning back to Vespucci and Cranston, I said, “Whatever you’re planning on doing, Tony, this has nothing to do with my friends here, so I’d like you to let Donovan and Luci leave, and we can talk about this alone.”

  Luci said, “I’m not leaving.”

  Donovan added, “Me neither.”

  From my vantage point, I saw Vespucci’s face tighten up. Cranston suddenly sat up in his seat. I looked over my shoulder to see what had made them react that way. Somehow, Donovan had slid the few feet across the floor, a Beretta in his hand pointed at Joey’s head. I didn’t realize he’d grabbed one from the bag. If Joey was scared, it didn’t show on his face.

  “Donovan, no.”

  Luci had moved in tandem with Donovan and was beside Joey, disarming him. Joey didn’t put up a fight, looking to Vespucci for guidance.

  Cranston’s voice flowed out over us as my friends’ actions unfolded. I looked back at him. He was half raised out of his chair, his hands planted firmly on his desk to help keep him upright. “Gentlemen, stop! You misunderstand what we’re doing here. Tony does not mean you any harm.”

  Luci and Donovan had each stepped away from Joey in opposite directions, so they were out of his immediate reach.

  “Tony, please explain to them what’s going on before these young upstarts shoot up my office,” the last part of the sentence coming out as Cranston lowered himself back into his chair.

  Vespucci motioned to Joey to move over near him. Joey did as he was asked, walking across the room and taking a seat in the corner of the office behind Vespucci. He appeared relaxed, unruffled, and unaffected. Luci and Donovan closed ranks beside me.

  As the room settled, Vespucci said, “Gentlemen, what I am about to discuss requires the highest discretion and cannot leave this room. Ever. Is that understood?”

  I nodded, looking to
Luci and Donovan who each silently agreed.

  “Good. Let me start from the beginning. Jon, I didn’t ask you to do this job with completely innocent intentions. I love my daughter beyond words. I would do anything for her. But when she fell in love with Marco Balducci, it put me in a very tough position. As you know, his father and I go all the way back to childhood. We came up together. He’s not just a business associate. He’s also one of my closest friends. So, when Maggie started dating his son, I had to keep my mouth shut, hoping she would eventually lose interest in him. I’ve never liked Marco, and my daughter is aware of that. But that didn’t stop her from falling in love with the guy.” Vespucci paused at the thought of his daughter ending up with Marco. He continued. “Then one day, Maggie comes home and tells me they’re engaged. Everyone’s ecstatic. The Balduccis and the Vespuccis will be linked forever. So, I have had to suffer this in silence, seeking my own counsel on how best to handle the situation.”

  Everything he said verified what I believed to be true. My sixth sense had been right on target, but by this point I was beginning to have trouble believing him. He was Tony Vespucci, purportedly one of the most powerful organized crime figures in the United States. How was I supposed to believe he couldn’t take care of this problem with a phone call? “You expect me to believe that you couldn’t just take care of this problem yourself?” I asked.

  Vespucci started chuckling, trading looks with Cranston. He looked back at me. “Simple as that, Jon? Just tell my daughter she can’t marry the guy, or else? Maybe someday you’ll have a daughter and you’ll understand.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean . . .” My words tapered off, knowing I meant exactly that.

  “My daughter is in love with this man. She won’t believe anything I tell her. She thinks I’m biased against Marco because of what happened when she was a teenager.”

  “Italy.”

  Vespucci nodded. “It was the compromise Giancarlo and I made back then. I thought that would be the end of my problem. But then, when Marco got back to the States last year, Maggie ran into him one day, and they started dating quietly. She didn’t tell me for months. By the time I found out, it was too late. As far as the rest of my family is concerned, Marco’s a great guy—”

  I interrupted Vespucci. “Your mother-in-law doesn’t like him much.”

  “Really?”

  “She thinks he’s a bully.”

  Vespucci glanced down at Cranston.

  Cranston looked up at Vespucci. “I told you. He’s good at getting people to talk.”

  Vespucci turned back to me. “Jon, that’s why I brought you on board. I needed someone to show her what he’s really like. Late in August, I was confiding in Cranston, telling him about my dilemma, and that’s when he suggested you. He said that if there was anything to be discovered about my soon-to-be son-in-law, you would find out. I figured I had nothing to lose. That’s how you ended up here. Last night, though, I needed Marco to think you were out of the picture. Otherwise, I was afraid for your safety. He doesn’t like you much. Or your friends.”

  “I’m aware of that. If last night was a ploy, to what end?”

  “I want Marco to feel safe.”

  I nodded, still not completely understanding. I wondered what Vespucci did, and didn’t know, about Maggie’s fiancé. “But what about the pictures of the FBI that Marco gave you?

  “We’ll get to those in a minute. First, I need to know a few things.”

  “Such as?”

  “I need to know the truth about Marco.”

  “What do you think the truth is?”

  “For starters, what can you tell me about Marco’s legacy in Italy?”

  I started, realizing Vespucci knew more than he let on. “What do you know?”

  “Rumors only. A baby. A nosy reporter named Mosconi. But that’s about it. Nothing more.”

  I glanced over at Luci. Responding to my look, he said, “By the end of the day.”

  To Vespucci, I said, “I’ll have a name for you tonight.”

  “Name for whom?” Vespucci asked.

  “The name of the mother of Marco’s baby.”

  “So, it’s true.” Vespucci took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

  In short order, I outlined everything I’d found out from Mosconi, along with the verification from Luci’s source.

  “What else does this reporter know?” Vespucci asked.

  “I don’t think it matters what else he knows. He’s dead.”

  The room fell silent. Cranston sat back in his chair. Vespucci looked at his lieutenant, getting a shrug and shake of the head from Joey. He looked back at me. “Marco?”

  “It was made to look like a suicide, but we saw the guy the day he died. He didn’t seem suicidal to me.”

  “You can prove this?” Vespucci asked.

  “The murder, no. Everything else. Yes,” I replied. “But you need to know it doesn’t end with the baby. There’s more. The mother of the baby was only fifteen at the time. When her father discovered she was pregnant, he went to Marco demanding that Marco marry her. Marco beat him to death.”

  For several moments, no one spoke. Quietly, Vespucci asked, “You’re sure of this?”

  “I’d stake my career on it.”

  Vespucci sat silent for several moments, thoughts clearly racing through his mind. Finally, he looked over at his lieutenant. “Where’s Marco?”

  “He had some business at the factory.”

  Vespucci said, almost to himself, “He’s having dinner with Maggie tonight at your place, Cranston.”

  Cranston barely looked up at the mention of his name. He seemed lost in thought.

  Vespucci focused back on me. “Last night, you indicated you have feelings for my daughter. Is that true?”

  I looked down at the floor, not expecting the question, not wanting to discuss feelings of the heart in the current situation. I returned my gaze to Vespucci, answering with a nod.

  “Are those feelings interfering with your judgment?”

  “Absolutely not, Tony. When this is all over, your daughter is going to be heartbroken because of me. The thought of that doesn’t bring me any pleasure. But I don’t think I have a choice. Their relationship has been a setup from the start.”

  “Setup for what?”

  “To get to you.”

  As if coming out of a stupor, Cranston spoke up. “Jon, in Italy, how did Marco avoid arrest? Hiding a dead body is hard enough. But hiding a pregnant teenage girl is something else altogether. Fifteen is still fifteen. Even in Italy, that’s statutory rape.”

  “Marco didn’t hide her. The government did.”

  That got Vespucci’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

  As I spoke, I realized I was missing one piece of information that now seemed of great importance. “Tony, I’m assuming you control the movement of your, um, people, right?”

  Vespucci didn’t answer. I took that for a “yes.”

  “Did you sanction Marco’s return to the States?”

  “Giancarlo asked me for it. I thought enough time had passed.”

  Giancarlo’s desire to bring his son home didn’t implicate him. I had to assume Marco was the one pushing his father to request the return. Marco had set the whole thing up: his return, the romance, all of it. I was sure. Now I needed to prove it to Vespucci.

  “You hired me to write the love story for Marco and your daughter. Well, last night I finished what you hired me to do.” I crossed the room as I spoke. “Cranston, can I use your computer?”

  He nodded.

  “Does it have a printer?”

  Cranston pointed across the room to an industrial-sized copier and printer. I pulled the thumb drive out of my pocket and stuck it into the USB port. In a few seconds, I opened the file and sent it to print. No one spoke while I waited for t
he story to finish printing. When it was done, I crossed the office, pulled the indictment from the exit tray, and turned back to Vespucci.

  “Here you go, Tony. This is what you hired me to do.” I walked over to him, placing the stack of papers in his hands.

  Two hours later Vespucci placed the last page on Cranston’s desk. The rest of us were sprawled out around the room. Cranston had called his restaurant and ordered pizza, which gave me a food coma and knocked me back into my chair for a light snooze. Donovan and Luci were sitting quietly, looking as if they could be meditating. Joey was standing in the back eating. Cranston was almost asleep in his cushioned office chair, reclining it back to get more comfortable.

  Vespucci was looking down into his lap at his hands. Instinctively, my eyes opened, feeling a shift in energy. From across the room, I could see the dark scowl on his face as he looked up to meet my gaze. “You’re sure? You have proof?” he asked.

  In seconds, I’d wiped the sleep out of my eyes. “Italy I can prove,” I said, “and everything else stems from that. I don’t have proof I can hand you, but nothing else makes sense. My feelings for your daughter aside, I did not seek the story out. The story found me.” I caught my breath before I proceeded. “Tony, I would like nothing more than for it to be total fiction, because then my life, and the life of my friends, wouldn’t be in danger. Your future son-in-law would like nothing better than to disappear me from the face of the earth. I’m sure it was Marco who tried to plant the listening device in our hotel room. I’m sure he killed Mosconi. I’m sure Marco got involved with your daughter to get close to you.”

  “And the FBI?”

  I paused a moment, considering the implications of the FBI’s part in all this. “I’m sure.”

  Vespucci turned toward the New York skyline and stared out the window into the distance. Silence filled the room. We sat like that for several minutes, no one speaking. Finally, Vespucci pulled his eyes away from the November afternoon sun, pinning down my gaze. “Jon, I have to be sure.”

  I nodded. I realized I could still put the plan I’d outlined for Luci and Donovan into action with only a slight modification. “If Marco admits it to you, will that be enough?”