by Robert Swetz
“That’s my gun!” Samuel exclaimed.
“Yes,” Gerald replied. “Of course it is. You just shot her.”
“I…” Samuel said nothing more as his face filled with rage.
“And this gun,” Gerald said as he held the gun in his hands up a bit higher, belonged to Michael.” He didn’t bother waiting for a reaction. He shot Samuel Scuderi in the heart. Scuderi’s body was slammed backwards where it fell into his own chair.
Gerald grabbed Samuel’s silver gun in his gloved hands and carried it over to Samuel’s body. He put the gun into Samuel’s hand and made sure to press the fingers tightly around the entire gun, especially the trigger.
“Let’s go,” he said to his sister. By the time they got out of the office, the men in the house were coming back down the stairs.
“All clear,” one of them told Gerald.
They all left the house. The men outside were just finishing up loading the dead bodies into the back of the truck. They had grabbed the two guards they had killed inside the house too. By the time Gerald and his sister were back in the car, the back of the truck was being closed. Thirty seconds later, the truck was gone, the gate was closed, and a van had picked up all the men. It was as if they had never been there.
The car and the truck headed to the old abandoned building near the river. When Fran got out of the car, she found Vince waiting for her there. He grabbed her and gave her a tight hug, then a kiss. “How did it go?” he asked.
“It was Iris,” she told him. “The same one. The maid.”
Vince nodded. “Any problems?”
“None. And I don’t expect I’ll ever have any mental issues from it either. Not after what she did to us.”
“Good,” Vince whispered.
“Where’s Brian?”
“Inside. He fell asleep. He may have insisted he wanted to be here, but he fell asleep anyway. I think we should leave him that way.”
“I agree!” Francesca told him.
Hand in hand, Vince and Francesca headed into the old building. There were only a few battery powered lights on inside. Just enough for the men to see what they were doing. The back of the truck was opened, and the men were pulling dead bodies and guns out of it. Everything, men and guns alike, went into the box. Once all the evidence was in the box, the men started mixing cement. Load after load got poured into the box, filling every cavity, filling the entire box. When it was full, the lid was put on and screws were inserted all around. A forklift was brought in and the box was lifted and put into the back of the truck.
Vince woke Brian.
“What’s happening?” Brian asked. “Is Mom back yet?”
“She’s back and everything is fine,” Vince told him. It’s time to go back to the hotel.
“But what about everything else?”
“They’re done,” Vince told him. “It’s all over.”
“What? You mean I missed it?”
“You fell asleep. I just left you that way.”
Brian cursed. Why did they have to do it so late at night?
Vince led his family to the car where Gerald was already waiting. The car took them all back to the hotel.
An hour later, Gerald got a phone call. The voice on the other end didn’t say much. “The box is on the ship.”
“Thanks,” Gerald replied. He poured himself a drink. He still had a long wait ahead of him. The next call didn’t come until two hours later, shortly before dawn. “It’s done,” the voice said.
“Thanks,” Gerald replied simply.
He poured himself another drink and headed for bed. The box had been put onto a salvage ship and taken twenty miles out into the ocean. And now it had been dumped. All the evidence was in that box, along with Michael Scuderi. With the cement inside it hardening and weighing it down, the box would never be found. No evidence any longer existed. And as for Samuel and Iris, it now looked like Samuel had shot Iris, and Michael had shot Samuel. The authorities would probably look for Michael Scuderi for years, but of course, he would never be found. He was now twenty miles out to sea, inside a box full of other men, weapons, and cement.
The Giordano family had gotten their revenge. His father, Dominic, had been avenged. The head of the Scuderi family in New York no longer existed. He and Vince would get together in a few days to sort out the hundred and twenty million dollars. He had found the account numbers in his father’s business, and now Vince had the password to that account. They would do it when they brought Brian out to meet his side of the family. There would be more to celebrate than just the return of his sister and Brian. He and Vince would have a hundred and twenty million reason to celebrate. Sixty million each.
Chapter 20
Brian sat in the backseat of the car. His mother sat on his left side, his father on his right. Sitting between them, the view out the windows wasn’t exactly the best. It seemed to be a long drive from the airport. His mother had pointed out some of the tall buildings of Chicago in the distance, but sitting where he was, he hadn’t been able to see them very well. Chicago was a huge place, just like New York had been. But evidently, Chicago was his home. His real home.
The city seemed to slip away, becoming beautiful green landscaped scenery on both sides of the car. A short time later, the car pulled up to a big fancy gate. The gate opened and the car pulled through. There was a long drive up to the house. Not a house that looked to be hundreds of years old, but something newer. It was big though. Very big.
The car pulled around and right up to the front door where he noticed a man standing on the steps, waiting for them. His father got out of one side of the car and his mother got out the other. He slid over and followed his mother. He heard the man greeting his father by name as he followed his mother toward the steps.
“Francesca,” the man said, sounding happy to see her.
“Hello George,” Fran replied as she let the man take her hand and hold it for a moment. “Has Vincent put you in charge while I’ve been away?”
“Of course!” George replied. “But only until you came back, and I’m very happy to turn those duties over to you again.” He turned to the boy and said, “You must be Brian.” He turned back to Francesca. “We always said he looked like his father. Now, there’s no denying it.”
“Brian,” Francesca said. “This is George. He’s in charge of the house and the servants.”
“After you, of course,” George added.
“Yes. He manages them for me,” Francesca added.
Brian shook George’s hand, then followed as George led his mother up the steps. His father seemed to have disappeared already.
“I’m afraid his bedroom will need redecorating,” George told Francesca. “May I recommend putting him in one of the guest rooms for now.”
“You mean his room is still the same?” Francesca asked.
“Untouched…except for cleaning of course.”
“Then a guest room will be a must!” Francesca replied.
“My room?” Brian asked.
“I’m afraid,” George said, “that it’s still decorated for someone much…younger.”
“Can I at least see it?”
“Of course! This is your house.”
“I’ll show him,” Francesca told him. “It’s on the way.”
His mother had said she would show him, but Brian noticed that George was staying right with them. He followed them into the house, looking everywhere as fast as he could. Some things looked vaguely familiar, but not much. He followed them down a wide hallway where his mother finally stopped at a set of double doors. She opened one of them.
“This is your room. We’ll redecorate immediately,” his mother told him. “In the meantime, George will arrange someplace more suitable for you to stay.”
Brain entered the room ahead of them. He didn’t find himself in a bedroom though, but in a large room that seemed to be filled with toys. Children’s toys. Toys made for a five-year-old. Some of those toys, he recognized. He had dreamed a
bout this room and some of those toys.
Beyond the playroom, he found the bedroom, decorated for a five-year-old boy. The small low bed was shaped like a racecar. He recognized that too. As much as he was tempted to stay there, he knew he’d never fit in that small bed.
“Recognize anything?”
He turned to see his mother standing behind him. “Some,” he admitted.
“Wander around,” she told him. Explore. It’s your house too. See if anything else comes back to you. I’ve got to change,” she told him.
Brian nodded and watched as she walked out. He noticed that George had finally seemed to disappear. He looked around his room for a moment more and noticed there was a bathroom attached to it. He looked inside and was glad to see all the fixtures were normal sized. Not specially made for a small kid.
He left his rooms and went back out into the hallway. As he did, he saw his mother standing outside another set of double doors at the end of the hall. The doors were closed, but she was just standing there as if she was afraid to open them. He watched her for a moment, then turned away and headed back toward the front entrance. He had a feeling his mother had her own things to deal with just then, just like he did.
The front door had led them into a huge room with big windows lining the back wall. He looked out through those windows at the backyard. Something there in the very corner caught his attention. A small child’s playset stood there where a young kid could climb all over it. Coming off the playset was a set of swings. On the other side of the playset was a sandbox.
His feet seemed to take him where he needed to go, through the house and out the back door. He walked over to the playset and stared at it all. The sandbox seemed smaller. The playset seemed much smaller. So did the swings. He sat on one of the swings and looked back at the house. It hadn’t been a dream that belonged to someone else. It was all his.
He was home.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
It was late morning when a car pulled up next to the side entrance to the New York catholic church. There were a few needy people just starting to gather for the noon meal the church offered. Two men got out of the car. One of them opened the door to let a woman out. The two men took up positions well back from the door but flanking it as the woman walked to the door and knocked. She had to knock again before it was opened.
Sister Agnes was expecting to find someone who was there for lunch, someone who didn’t have the patience to wait until noon when the door would be opened. It happened occasionally. But she wasn’t prepared for the sight of the well-dressed, sophisticated looking woman standing outside the door. A woman she didn’t recognize. “Yes?”
“Sister Agnes?” Francesca asked, taking in the nun wearing an apron.
“Yes,” Sister Agnes replied with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Father Joseph here?”
“Yes. He’s in the back, cooking right now.”
“May I see him? I promise, it will be well worth a few minutes of his time.”
Looking again at the expensive cut to the woman’s dress, Sister Agnes backed up and invited the woman in. “Who may I tell him is calling?” she asked.
“Just someone he doesn’t know,” Francesca told her. “Please,” she said politely.
Sister Agnes nodded her head and headed into the kitchen. She was back a minute later with a priest, also wearing an apron.
“What’s this about?” Father Joseph asked.
“Father Joseph?” Francesca asked.
“Yes.”
Francesca pulled a check from her purse and handed it to him. “A small donation for your soup kitchen.”
Father Joseph looked at the cashier’s check. He turned excitedly to the nun. “Sister Agnes,” he said. “Fifty thousand dollars!” He turned back to the woman. “How can we ever thank you?”
Instead of answering his question Francesca said, “I have one other thing for you too. Just a message I was asked to pass along.”
“Yes?” Father Joseph asked.
“My son…the boy you know as David…wanted you to know that Goliath has been slain.”
Other Books by Robert C. Swetz
Go to: https://www.RobertCSwetz.com to see the full updated list.
Pariah
Pariah: Someone who is despised, scorned, rejected, shunned, outcast. Unwanted.
“If I find them, will you feed me?”
They were the haunting words of the most miserably wretched bum I could ever imagine. A bum who was desperately hungry and starving. A bum that nobody, myself included, wanted anywhere around. But as it turned out, he was a bum with the most amazing psychic ability anyone had ever seen.
His hunger somehow led him directly to me, Clifford McNair, Agent of the FBI. I wanted nothing to do with him at first. But fate somehow interceded and I soon learned just what this miserable starving wretch was capable of doing. And once I found out, I knew it would be like opening Pandora’s Box. Except that I doubt Pandora’s Box ever held anything like what was thrown at us!
Imagine that your son or daughter has suddenly gone missing… seemingly vanished from the face of the earth… just as happens in real life, many times, every single day, all around the world. How frightened would you be? How desperate would you be? What would you be willing to do to find your child? Would you be willing to go so far as to work with a psychic that the FBI wants to bring in?
But suppose that psychic was abominably filthy, horribly twisted and disfigured, and smelled absolutely awful. Not only that, but you would have to actually touch the wretch in order for him to “do his thing.” Would you still be willing to work with him?
And what if before that wretch of a man agreed to help you, he insisted on asking you one simple question: “If I find her, will you feed me?” What would you do then? Would you still consider asking for his help?
But now the FBI tells you that this wretched psychic has been one hundred percent correct in absolutely everything he’s seen. He has never failed to find a loved one – alive or dead – ever! What would you do then? Would you jump at the chance despite how repugnant the wretch appears?
And then the FBI drops the final bomb. He’s a convicted child molester. How would you feel then about having him find your missing child? What would you do?
Abominably filthy and disfigured. Child Molester. One Hundred Percent!
Chronicles of the Guides
Book 1: Magic of the Guides
If you like a good epic fantasy, then this book is for you. Epic battles. Epic wizardry. An epic plot. Even epic characters. All of it wonderfully combined into a unique storyline that will have you on the edge of your seat for a long, long time.
It was the perfect plot, one that would annihilate every man, woman, and child in the western kingdoms. And by the time anyone found out about it, it was already too late.
The Guides are literally the hand of God in the world, but there are only four of them. Four Guides that try to keep their true identities secret. Their purpose in life is to go wherever God guides them, and to gently nudge people toward a better path. People don’t always do what they suggest, but they try anyway.
Now a grave plot has been put in place and trouble is descending on all the western kingdoms. The kingdoms are all too focused on their own problems to notice what’s been secretly happening around them. Their armies and what few wizards are left can’t help them. And this time, even the mighty magic of the Guides won’t be enough.