by Wayne Block
“Nick, don’t do this to me,” Giorgio pleaded. “These guys will be extremely pissed.”
“What do you want me to do, Giorgio? I’ve got a plane to catch! Set it up for this afternoon.”
“It can’t happen today.”
“Fine, then give me Renaldo’s number and I’ll call him myself. I’ll tell him it’s my fault and get you off the hook.”
Giorgio was sweating. Even in his inebriated state he was not delusional enough to believe Nick would stick out his neck for him. Giorgio didn’t want to give up Renaldo’s private number and lose control of the communications. He felt safer as the middleman. But if Nick didn’t show for the meeting, Renaldo would kill him. He didn’t have a choice.
“Okay, Nick, but you’ve got to promise to call me after you talk with Renaldo.”
“You got it, Giorgio. I’ll make sure he knows how valuable you are to our operation. Now give me the number.”
Nick grinned as he entered Renaldo’s number into his phone. “I’ll get back to you after I’ve spoken to him.” Nick hung up and walked out to the pool to call Renaldo.
Renaldo answered gruffly. “Who the hell is this?”
“Nick Manzione.” There was a long silence at the other end of the line. “I know you’ve been talking with Giorgio,” Nick continued. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit he’s been feeding you, but I think I’m being set up. He’s the one who called me to Rio and I’ve been sitting on my ass for three days. I just booked a flight back to New York. I want to know what the hell is going on down here and I wanted to hear it from my man, directly!”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Renaldo yelled, making a sound like he’d hit someone. “That little shit told me you came down here to kill me!”
Nick laughed. “Kill you? Without you I have absolutely nothing! How could you be so goddamn stupid to believe Giorgio and why the hell didn’t you call me immediately?” Nick screamed, feigning righteous indignation. “Giorgio’s trying to start a war between us.”
Renaldo remained quiet as he grasped the patent absurdity of the question. “Yeah right, man. The whole thing didn’t make sense. I’m sorry. I shoulda called you. ”
Nick smiled. His Brazilian partner was terrifying, but certainly not brilliant. Nick knew Renaldo bought his story. “It didn’t make sense because that fuck Giorgio was trying to move in on our operation. He’s hoping we kill each other.”
“Son-of-a-bitch! I’m going to kill that lying Maricone!”
“Wait a minute. I’ve got a better idea. What time is the meeting Giorgio scheduled?” Nick asked.
“Tomorrow, outside of the city.”
“I’m not going to be here tomorrow. I’ve got a flight to catch, but I believe I know where to find Giorgio.”
“That double-crossing bastard! Wait until I get my hands on him,” Renaldo shouted.
“Don’t even think about doing anything to Giorgio until I say so, do you understand?” He hung up the phone and sauntered into the restaurant to join his party, feeling great that he had once again regained control over his universe.
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Renaldo focused on how Giorgio was going to pay big for starting a war. Renaldo would convince Nick that Giorgio killed his man on his own just to fuel the fires. He smiled in his drug-induced state, thinking it shouldn’t be hard. After all, he was dealing with dumb Dagos.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Joaquin and Steven entered Molly Malone’s, a pub next to the ferry stop to St. John. The waitress greeted Joaquin with a kiss on the cheek and sat them by the water.
“Clarice, a Cuba Libre for me. How about you, Steven?”
“The same.”
Clarice returned with their drinks and Joaquin finished his drink in a few gulps.
“I know about revenge,” Joaquin said, taking Steven by surprise. “I haven’t always been a sedentary old man. My chosen profession cost me the lives of my wife and our two young children thirty years ago, when a rival retaliated against me.”
Clarice swung by with fresh drinks, quickly collected their empties and returned to the bar without interrupting the flow of the conversation.
“What happened to the people who killed your family?”
“I killed them all.”
Joaquin was a man who understood his pain and need for revenge, Steven thought. Perhaps there was something deeper he could learn from this old man.
Joaquin took a sip of his second drink. “Do you know anything about the man you intend to kill?”
“What I know is inconsequential.”
“No information is inconsequential. To hunt a man, you must understand him and, like a predator, you must track him into his very lair until there is no escape. You must be one step ahead and anticipate each move he makes. A hunt is a matter of life and death.” He looked solemnly at Steven. “Do you understand?”
Steven shrugged. “I guess.”
“You must be absolutely certain. In this world, there is no room for ‘maybe’, ‘almost’ or ‘I guess’. Those words guarantee a bullet to your head.”
Steven stirred his drink with his index finger. “Tell me about the man who killed my family.”
“We were very close. I brought him up in our business. You see, I too was a professional assassin until my family was murdered.”
Steven looked stunned.
“I hope you won’t judge me harshly, but I cannot change the past. My day of judgment will come. I haven’t seen James in many years, so I have no idea what he looks like now. On rare occasions, a hand-delivered post card from him makes it to my house. It is his way of reminding me that he can reach me anytime. James likes to be in control. Fear is the cornerstone of his legend and his power. For James, fear is control.”
“Your friend is quite a psycho.”
“Our profession–I mean his profession–makes it almost impossible to have family or any close friendships. Only a rare man has been able to juggle both lives.”
Steven stretched his neck from side to side, trying to work out the tension, and then sat forward in his chair. “Isn’t it difficult for you to help me?”
Joaquin shook his head. “Perhaps, but you are the hunter, matching wits with the most complex and intelligent prey on earth. Although I once loved James like a son, the man I loved died years ago. The man who murdered your family is someone I do not know. I hold him in contempt for the execution of your children, and I no longer owe allegiance to him.”
Both men quietly sipped their drinks. The rum was having a soothing effect on Steven’s nerves, and he found himself relaxed with Joaquin.
“What must I do to find him?”
Joaquin polished off his second drink and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “To find him, you must know how he thinks, what he feels, where he has come from, and where he is going. You must know his pain and discover his secrets–those that even I do not know. You must learn what still drives him in his passion for killing after so many years. It’s only then that you’ll have a chance to locate him.”
“Whoa, wait a minute, Joaquin! How the hell am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a lifetime to learn about the Scorpion. Time is running out for me! Pablo Munoz told me that he’s now following me!”
Joaquin looked a little pale. “I know. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were already in St. Thomas. Look around this bar. He could be anyone.”
Steven looked slowly around to see if anyone seemed interested in their conversation. “I’m only concerned with men who are about six feet tall, bearing a large mark on their ring finger and a distinct tan line around their neck,” Steven said.
Joaquin smiled. “So you do have some information.”
“If you call that useful; Billy Veeksburn gave me that tidbit. On its own, it’s pretty useless.”
Joaquin looked off into the distance. “Billy Veeksburn,” he repeated softly. “That’s a name I haven’t heard for quite some time. Billy was a wild man. I liked him. We worked together in Las Vegas and on the
Mexican border.” Joaquin sucked on an ice cube from his depleted drink. “Pablo told me that James killed Billy.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“That saddens me. Another of my comrades from the old days is gone. There are so few of us left.” Joaquin moved forward in his chair. “Let me help you with the only part of James’ life I know. James was brought up in an orphanage run by Benedictine Nuns deep in the Amazon. I don’t believe he knew his real parents. English missionaries arranged to adopt him when he was ten years old. Returning to England with James, they lived in North Hempstead, on the outskirts of London. His parents added Edward Smith to the only name he was born with, James. They never knew about, nor did he ever discuss, his life prior to the orphanage.”
“Somehow James Edward does not sound as terrifying as the Scorpion.”
Joaquin chuckled softly. “No, I suppose not.” He shifted back into his story. “His adoptive parents traveled constantly to the four corners of the world, visiting missionaries, teaching, and healing. They were a well-intentioned couple, however their focus and enthusiasm for helping the poor did not extend to their son. They did little to give him the love a child needs to blossom into a stable and secure adult. James was far superior to his classmates in all fields of study and his intelligence became evident by his pre-teen years. He was also an excellent athlete, yet he didn’t participate in team sports. His interest lay solely in individual contests. The picture I showed you was taken at a formal banquet honoring the best in sports, where James was named the youngest All-English Fencing Champion.”
Steven momentarily thought about his own childhood and the father he missed. “Poor James, a killer because he was neglected.” Bullshit, he thought. “I have no sympathy for him.”
“His parents arranged for James to attend a boarding school, where he saw his parents only at Christmas. He grew up lonely, frustrated, and bitter that his second set of parents abandoned him, too. Although he excelled in academics and athletics, he lacked social skills and had no friends. His loneliness hardened him.”
“James was offered admission to Oxford,” Joaquin continued, “but prior to enrolling, his parents were killed in an uprising in South Africa. Their bodies were shipped back to England for burial and at eighteen years of age, James was penniless and entirely alone. His parents had made no provisions for him.”
“A tragic figure,” Steven scoffed, having no empathy for this killer or his hard luck life. “Many people have suffered similarly, without resorting to cold bloodedness.”
Joaquin ignored Steven. “I met James at a very exclusive hotel in London. I was at the top of my game and spent lavishly and ostentatiously. James was working as a bellboy by day and as an in-house cat burglar by night. I was impressed with the way he entered my hotel room one evening, intending to clean me out of everything. He was handsome, charming, and very savvy. I knew instantly he was destined for greatness.”
“Yeah, and he became a great baby killer!”
Joaquin quietly regarded Steven for a few moments. “I don’t have to continue talking about James if it disturbs you. You came to me for information, which I am providing. We can discuss other subjects if you prefer.”
“I’m sorry,” Steven said, realizing he had insulted his host. “Please continue. I’ll hold my tongue.”
Joaquin forced a smile. “James was intrigued with my money, the fancy clothes I wore, and the women I had. I became his employer and mentor.”
Joaquin ordered a third round of drinks.
Steven shook his head. “If I have any more rum, I’m not going to be able to stand.”
“We’ll stop at three,” Joaquin replied.
At that moment, the ferry from St. John pulled up to the dock, and they both watched in silence as the passengers disembarked.
Joaquin unexpectedly stated, “You know, Steven, you remind me of what James once was, not what he has become. He was a true friend and a great man, as difficult as that may be to believe. He once had a passion for life and many of my best memories are with him. It saddens me to think about what he is now.” Joaquin signaled for another round. Both men sat contentedly, sipping rum and watching the passengers boarding the ferry for the return trip to St. John.
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Evening found Joaquin and Steven on the porch re-hydrating themselves. Clarice had driven them back to Joaquin’s condominium, since both were too impaired. They were now sprawled out on Joaquin’s couch. Both lay relatively motionless in the darkness, breathing in the salty air. “Where do I have to go now?” Steven asked. “Can this end already?”
“You’ve got one final stop. Have you ever been to Ecuador?”
Steven’s mood sank even lower. “No.”
“You’ll be traveling to Quito. You’ll be meeting Pierre Mateuse, a priest and missionary who is serving the native Indians in the mountain country. Before you travel into the mountains, you must become acclimated to the altitude in Quito, which is about nine thousand feet above sea level. If you go directly to the higher elevations, you will get altitude sickness, and you cannot afford to be disabled in any manner. You must stay in Quito for forty eight hours. I will give you the name of a beautiful hotel. After two days, you can go searching for Padre Mateuse.”
“Tell me…why should I meet this priest?”
“Pierre worked for me and was James’ best friend. He too was once an assassin, but that abruptly ended when he killed the wrong people. He was so devastated that he tried to kill himself. A priest saved his life and he decided to commit himself to God, becoming a missionary to atone for his sinfulness. He moved to the Ecuadorian mountains and has remained there ever since.”
“Have you told him I am coming?”
“I have sent word to him. Communication is difficult in the mountains and Pierre travels among different missions. I don’t even know if he’ll receive my message.”
“How will Pierre help me?” Steven asked. “I thought you were the person who knew everything about the Scorpion.”
Joaquin nodded sympathetically. “Have patience my friend. Pierre is the only person who can guide you to the lair of the Scorpion. He is the only person who knows that location and I am the only person who knows how to find Pierre. It’s that simple!”
“How do I know the priest will help me? I mean, you said yourself he was the Scorpion’s best friend.”
“I said he was once his best friend. And yes, unfortunately, you won’t know whether Pierre will help you until you ask him. You’ve traveled this far, so I assumed you’d have no problem making this last leg of your journey.”
“When you killed those people in retaliation for the murders of your wife and children, was it worth it? Would you do the same thing if you could do it over again?”
Joaquin sat upright on the couch and looked at Steven with a fatherly expression.
“I am a tired old man with many regrets. I live comfortably enough, but I have relatively little to show from the dangerous ventures I pursued in my youth. I squandered a fortune and now have little financial security. I am no longer a threat to anyone and have outlived my enemies in a world where my associates have very short lives. I neither possess valuable information nor keep secrets that would make me anyone’s target. I only want to spend the rest of my days near the ocean, and to die in peace, drinking rum and smoking a Cuban cigar. But I still live with the fear that at any moment, someone from my past could step out of the shadows and end my life.”
Steven looked puzzled, having been given an answer unrelated to his question. Joaquin sensed his confusion. “I know that I didn’t answer your question, but I wanted you to know something about me before I answered you.”
Steven nodded.
“Was it worth it? I can’t give you a simple answer. My wife was a wonderful woman. I never before knew such love and never will again.”
Steven felt like he was hearing his own story.
“My daughters were very young; Maylin was five and Annabelle wa
s three. They worshiped me as only little girls can adore their fathers. They brought joy into my world, which was a world full of death. I know that you understand this. Regretfully, the time I had with my family was instantly cut short. When they were murdered, I had nothing left. I lost what little compassion I possessed and I could no longer see the good in the world. All I sought was vengeance. I believed that it was righteous vengeance and that God was on my side. Revenge was my sole reason for living and it propelled me forward through each day, each minute of regret, each nightmare that came upon me. I killed twelve people in retaliation for the slayings of my family, and I did it in the name of ‘justice’! I tortured the ones who pulled the triggers and I enjoyed it immensely. I actually savored their agony, as monstrous as that seems. I listened to them beg for the mercy of a quick death that would not come. I watched as they took their last breaths. I felt a sense of tranquility from their final silence.”
Joaquin exhaled deeply. His hands were trembling. Steven thought about all the ways he’d envisioned killing the Scorpion and the pleasure he would derive from watching him die.
Joaquin looked sadly at Steven. “I was young and angry, Steven. But more importantly, I was a completely different man back then. It has been many, many years, but I still see their faces contorted in pain. I still hear their screams and pleas for mercy and I still wake in the middle of the night and see my family reaching out to me. In the end, Steven, I could not bring back my family. Was it worth it? You’re goddamn right it was for the man I was twenty-five years ago, but ironically, not for the man I am today. If I could, I’d go back and talk with my younger self and tell him that no matter what he did, the pain would never go away. Was it the right thing to do? Yes. Punishment was deserved and delivered. At the time I felt that I had no choice. Maybe I did. I think every man has a choice, Steven. You have to make your choice. I cannot make it for you because in the end, only you can decide whether it was worth it. If you are doing it so you can sleep again, don’t bother. If you do it simply because James no longer deserves to live, then I wish I was young enough to help you.”