Lawless Measures_Vigilante_The Fight Continues

by Lyle O'Connor

  With Pelosi down for the count, I was on my way to interfere with the second leg of the racket; prime candidate Shady Slim Surdo. He was next on my list. Cal had garnered from his Mob contact that Surdo was not well liked. He had a hankering that other soldiers disdained. Shady Slim wanted to be the first in line to “turn out” underage kidnapped or otherwise coerced girls. According to Cal, Surdo liked them young and the younger, the better. If they were virgins, it was a real treat. His actions were considered contemptuous and appalling in the eyes of the Family, particularly those not involved in the illegal immigration racket. Nonetheless, he was tolerated for business sake.

  Surdo was a home grown product of Buffalo’s Allen Street. He broke his bones in the street pharmaceutical trade. The Fed’s turned up the heat on pushers making it less than profitable to run a business. He had grown tired of paying a street tax to Bacca’s soldiers. He made the leap when opportunity knocked. He put the drugs aside for a less risky business. He made himself available to the Family. His value was soon rewarded with a position.

  He had class, even if it was low class. His taste in vehicles, however, spoke a different story. He drove an old red ‘69 Hemi Cuda convertible that appeared to be his office on wheels. He gave me the impression he was either a businessman or a private taxi service. Regardless, he was clearly in serfdom. He frequently shuttled people throughout the city. He picked up riders from barbershops to coffee houses then dropped them off at another location, or in some cases, he brought them back to where he’d picked them up from originally. It made no sense unless he was conducting business on the move. On nice days, he drove with the top down as he cruised about. Today happened to be a sunny day.

  Catching up to Surdo was far more difficult than Pelosi. Surdo didn’t have a distinguishable pattern, but he did have a habit. Since I had begun the observation, I noted he had regularly patronized one of Pepe’s bordello’s just off Allen Street. This was chancy. He would likely have heard of Pelosi being gunned down by the time I got set up on him. He might lie low until the coast was clear. If that were the situation, I would have to flush him out.

  I leaned the bucket seat of my Avenger back into an easy resting position as I cocked my Homburg fedora forward to reduce the sunlight beaming off the windshield. Pelosi’s Cathouse was situated at the end of a multiple story rowhouse. This six terraced home had seen better days but matched the rundown neighborhood. This would be the easiest way to pick up Surdo’s scent.

  At some point during the early evening I began to consider the third name on my target list, perhaps should be second. Before I could make a final decision, number two rolled up in his ‘Cuda, looking very dapper. Shady Slim left his car parked curbside to the rowhouse and trotted to the house, glancing back as he stepped through the door. The better part of an hour lapsed before Surdo poked his head out the front door. Moments later he hot footed it to his car. By his actions, I suspected he knew Pepe was dead.

  I tailed him loosely for a few blocks down Main Street where he erratically veered off the main drag to one of the side roads. Maybe it was an attempt to shake the tail or worse yet, draw me out. As I watched his car, it zigzagged across and through an ill-lit neighborhood, and promptly came to a stop in front of a person standing at a crosswalk. I pulled back from the tail and watched.

  Soon, Surdo was out of his convertible chasing the person he’d stopped near. I attached the moderator to my Glock M22 .40-caliber semi-automatic, jacked a sub-sonic round into the chamber and made haste in the direction of the chase. Shady Slim would return to his ‘Cuda. I would take an opportunistic encounter to take him.

  I strode the decrepit sidewalk toward the convertible keeping a sharp eye out for passersby. About twenty yards past his car in the direction of the chase I spotted a space between townhouses that was hidden from the radiance of the street lamp. I holed up there in the darkness, coiled, ready to strike.

  To my surprise, Surdo returned dragging a female by the arm toward his car. The female’s speech was pressured and too tangential to make out clearly what she had said. Surdo pinned the woman against his car’s rear fender, slapping her about the head as she physically resisted her capture. If his intention was for the lady to ride peacefully with him, he had to convince her it was in her best interest to comply. At this juncture, he looked as if he was between a rock and a hard place, and losing ground. There was no evidence she was going with him the easy way. I saw no reason to wait. Surdo was so consumed by her recalcitrance; he didn’t see my approach.

  I surmised not many people in this neighborhood would intervene if violence occurred on the street. A do-gooder was the last thing he expected to see. My presence was certainly a jaw-dropper for him. His victim fell from his grip, and I assumed he was about to direct a cleaver taunting remark at me. But my Glock stole his attention as I leveled it in the direction of his chest—Thuup. He staggered two steps before he collapsed to the ground. Thuup—the second round blew through his head. It was a done deal.

  The woman had sprung to her feet and ran. She didn’t look back. My guess was she wanted distance between me and her, lots of distance. I continued on the sidewalk, back to my Avenger. If anyone had seen anything, I wasn’t worried. Not in this neighborhood. On the street, a brazen shooting of one of Bacca’s soldiers would spread like wildfire. It was unfriendly territory I’d tracked him to; I needed to get out of this area. Anna had designated my hotel room as our operational safe house, code named sanctuary. It was my next stop for the day.

  I headed back to my hotel room, but I struggled to contain my excitement. The achievement of the day was remarkable. Especially, after such a long wait. Anna would be pleased to convey the report to Max on the success of her project. Undoubtedly, there would be kudos forthcoming from Max to Anna, and on to me. More importantly from my perspective, it rolled our timeline closer to the finish. Then, as promised, Anna and I would pursue our relationship.

  I wasted no time calling Anna. Soon as I heard her voice I recapitulated my successes. I waited in anticipation of Anna’s jubilant response. She was silent.

  “What’s going on, Anna. Something is wrong isn’t it?”

  “Cal, he’s gone. He’s missing. Something bad has had to have happened.”

  Cal Alonzo, a forty-year-old native New Yorker, devoted his writing career to commentary on criminal enterprises. From politicians to street gangs, he covered them all. He was a man with many friends and possibly as many enemies. He wrote under an assumed name; however, we have learned from experience, it does little in the way to protect a person’s identity. Now he was missing.

  “Anna, I think you need to get out of there. Come to sanctuary. I don’t have to tell you this has become too dangerous to stay at Cal’s.”

  “It’s worse—the girls are gone too. I don’t know what’s happened to any of them. There are no signs of any struggle or foul play here.”

  “Wrap this up and get out—now!” I could feel a sense of helplessness emerge. I knew Anna would not put my mind at ease with her response.

  “Cal is my friend. Until I know what has happened, I can’t pull out. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Do you understand that you are in danger?” I felt myself beg of her to reconsider.

  “I love you, Walter, but—I’ve got to do this.”

  “I love you too, Anna, that’s why I want you to think about what you’re doing to us right now.”

  “Don’t put that on me. We are Palatini, and we have a mission.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but the silence didn’t feel any better.

  “I’m going to check out Cal’s mob friend, Joey Naccarella. If I can’t get a lead there, I’ll tie it off.”

  Anna set a check in time and assured me she would promptly call as discussed. Meanwhile, I would continue my hunt, but my heart wasn’t in it. All that was on my mind was Anna’s safety.

  Chapter 2

  “We weren’t after a semblance of mundane and ordinary; we wanted pandemon
ium.”

  —Walter

  The telephone ringer clattered rhythmically and reverberated off the walls of the old hotel room. The abrupt interruption of my sleep forced a lapse in memory. Where am I? I pondered the thought momentarily. That’s right, I remember, I was holed up in a sleazy hostel Anna dubbed sanctuary waiting for her to call. My attempt at sleep had been a difficult and ongoing process throughout the night. Was it demonic activity that haunted me or was I beset by anxiety? By morning it hardly mattered, I hadn’t been able to defeat it. Zombiefied, I reached for the phone.

  “Hello,” I scarcely recognized my own voice; harsh and gravelly. Dehydration had parched my vocal cords.

  “Walter?” It was Anna. A burst of relief and happiness came over me. She had kept her word and called as promised. But, there was an unusual sharpness to the tone of her voice. “I’ve spent the night packing all Cal’s research material. It contains names, addresses, and involvement with the different factions of the Family. I put it in a large piece of Cal’s luggage and I’ll place it in a locker at the airport. I’ll let you know where the key will be kept in the event something goes awry.”

  I didn’t like the sounds of her statement, “What do you want me to do?” I paused, before I offered the suggestion I’d hoped she would decide to take. “How about I swing over there and pick you up and help find Cal in Toronto?”

  “No, there’s no time. I’m going on the hunt. I believe I have a good lead on one of the girl’s whereabouts. If I can find her, she’ll know what happened to Cal. I need you to continue your takedown.”

  “Contact times are the same, right?”

  “I will call your cell phone around the five p.m. mark.”

  I could deal with the sleep deprivation, but found it more challenging to remain focused on my target while Anna remained in a potentially compromised and dangerous scenario.

  Emilio Zambrotta, a Bacca crew “associate” and target number three, had worked his way up the proverbial food chain of the Abbandanza crime syndicate. His goal of reaching the pinnacle of super villainy as a soldier in Bacca’s crew was lofty, too lofty, one he would never attain. His lack of success wasn’t because he had fewer opportunities than the next hood; but because he was a chump. Bacca played him like a fool. From an outsider’s perspective, Bacca never intended to promote him to soldier, or he would have done so already.

  Emilio was an honest to goodness family man with a wife and two small children. A fact he should have taken into consideration more seriously. He was a pimp. He didn’t fall into the trade for lack of better options; he sought an alternate way of life. What was the enticement? Maybe the grandeur of riches, flamboyant lifestyle, or just fascinated with the seedier side of life, whatever his inclination, in the broader scheme of things, it would be brief. Walter would see to that.

  Emilio spent an inordinate amount of time socializing with street thugs. He was a go-between for the crime family business. He travelled to various gang territories and “hung out” with them. Cal had never met Emilio. His awareness of Emillo’s activities was compliments of Cal’s police sources. The cops called him a “procurement officer” for Bacca. All Emilio really was, was a gopher. He had a “shopping list” for what Bacca would pay for. He set up deals with street level miscreants to kidnap underage girls that were homeless or runaways. Walter thought it was a smart move on the Mob’s part. Girls with no accountability were easy to abduct and fewer questions surfaced that concerned their whereabouts.

  The Russian Mafia was no different from the Sicilians or Italians when it came to business. They all worked the same way and there were plenty of crime families to go around. There were Mexican Drug Cartels, Irish Mobsters, and Chinese Triads. They were all mobsters, with an ethnic distinction, but without any differences. They have all learned to operate the “black market” and perfect the profitability of the underground economy.

  Organized crime mastered the use of others to take care of their dirty work. A small investment in operational “layering” paid years of dividends to the manifold syndicates. Gangsters looking for recognition usually received the attention of the media and cops. If due to their lifestyle, they become a liability to the criminal organization, some up-and-coming associate trying to make his mark, offs them. The various mobsters crowed all day how they were different from the other gangs, but in the end they all operated the same lowlife way.

  * * * * *

  It was Sunday; Zambrotta had left his house early for the Black Rock District of Buffalo. He and his little family attended Holy Family Cathedral, a catholic parish, located a few miles north of his home. There were catholic churches considerably closer to his home but Capo Bacca attended the Black Rock parish. That was important to Emilio. Not only had the local Capo attended the parish, but two of the main crime family hierarchy, Rocco Colansante and Salvatore Giannetti, did as well. To a guy like Emilio, that was probably more important than God being at the church. If Walter ran this project, he would have turned mass into a mess. But for now, I had a more passive role.

  I didn’t need to tail Emilio at this point; I knew he would be returning to have lunch with his family. Later he would hit the street for work. Regardless of the day, connections had to be made. I felt hurried. I wanted to get this guy killed then join Anna in Toronto with or without her blessing. I didn’t have time to watch the newspaper headlines and see how my last two kills had been presented to the public. However, I did like to read about the police and reporters guesswork. I liked the recognition, even if it wasn’t by name. I also liked when a reporter nailed an accurate conjecture of what happened or why.

  By now, all Bacca’s troops had to be aware something ran afoul, and it had undoubtedly spread to the associates, as well. If I gave it a week, and nothing else transpired, the street view would most likely return to normal. But, we weren’t after a semblance of mundane and ordinary; we wanted pandemonium.

  Emilio drove a pearl colored Toyota Sprinter. It fit his persona as a family man to a tee and fit in the city environment so well it was difficult to tail. He didn’t leave his house on a schedule, and for the short time I’d followed him there was no apparent order to his street contacts. The only choice I had was to wait him out.

  At five-o’clock, Anna called. I was still on the observation. I explained my dilemma. She said she understood in a pacifying way. “I will put the key to the airport locker in my Lexus. I will place it under the rear license plate, and I’ll put a key to Cal’s apartment with it. You’ve got the address, right?”

  “Got it. When do we make contact again?”

  “I’ll call in the morning around eight. Maybe you’ll have good news to share by then. Maximillian has been briefed. He is pleased at the accomplishments thus far and has offered additional assets if needed. Until I get a lead, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  Personally, I’d like to see her call in the Calvary or in this case the Palatini knights. Her safety was paramount to me. But I understood how Society Palatini did business. Danger was expected. All knights of the Order shared in this and accepted the risk.

  While I waited for Emilio to make his move, I reviewed the Toronto notes on the Abbandanza family in preparation for the change I expected to make. It was possible, Anna had hidden somewhere in her notes, the right information that would allow us to locate and spring Cal and the girl’s. I wanted to be ready to rock-n-roll.

  Daylight faded into a spectral twilight just after seven-thirty. I hunkered down for what might be a long night. While I waited, the surrounding building’s shadowy changes had drawn me back into the dream world of my childhood where I vanquished villainous predators. I enjoyed that world and grew fond of the memories. But, those were dreams, and nothing pleased me more than reality. Emilio was about to find out my pleasing dream world would be his worst nightmare.

  An hour passed before the front door to Emilio’s house opened. No one emerged, only the door stood wide open exposing an unlit front porch and entry way. It s
truck me as strange. A few minutes later, an early model Pontiac Tempest pulled up in front of his house. Emilio made a beeline to his car. He jumped into his Toyota and took off out of the subdivision in the direction of the main drag. The Tempest stayed close behind Zambrotta’s sedan. Unbeknownst to Emilio or the driver of the other vehicle, there was a third vehicle in the convoy. It was Walter in his Avenger.

  The two cars I tailed pulled over at an alleyway entrance ten blocks from Emilio’s residence and exited their vehicles. Zambrotta and the other driver jacked their jaws for a minute then proceeded into the alleyway darkness. I was satisfied to wait. A few minutes later, the two men returned to view. Emilio retrieved an attaché case from his car and climbed into the passenger side of the old Tempest before driving off. I held my position. Before the night was over, he would return for his ride. I could bank on it.

  I found it interesting, the alley had so many visitor’s throughout the night. Although I didn’t see anything I could put my finger on as corrupt or villainous, I was relatively sure had I ventured into the alley, I would have discovered its shadowy secrets and probably increased my body count. It was a temptation for sure, but it wasn’t what I was here for.

  Around two in the morning the Pontiac pulled up alongside the Toyota. When Emilio got out of the other car, he didn’t appear to be in a hurry or overly concerned for his safety. He remained exposed from either vehicle for a few minutes while he conversed with the other driver. The Tempest finally darted off, and Emilio fired up his sedan. Moments later we were heading in the direction of his home, some ten blocks away. At that time in the morning, the streets were vacant. No pedestrians and only an occasional car passed by us. Most were oncoming traffic. I tailed a short distance off the Toyota’s right side. I knew he could see the front end of my car, but he couldn’t get a good look at me. My plan was simple; I would follow him to his house and shoot him there. All that changed a couple blocks from his house when a stoplight switched from green to red. We pulled to the stop, side by side in parallel lanes.