Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

  When they reached the Moretti’s house, Celia headed inside without waiting for him. He followed, his footsteps faltering when he heard her frantically whispering in Corrado’s office.

  “I couldn’t do it,” she said. “How am I supposed to tell him?”

  “You know him better than anyone else,” Corrado responded. “He trusts you. He’ll take it better coming from you.”

  “It doesn’t matter who it comes from—he’s going to flip out.”

  “That may be true, but someone needs to tell him,” Corrado said. “It would be better coming from you than the likes of Sal.”

  Vincent stepped into the doorway. “Tell me what?”

  Celia started stammering. “Carmine was worried. Or, he is worried. He couldn’t just sit around, and I didn’t know what to do. I suspected what he was going to do, but I couldn’t forbid him. I didn’t even know if I should. He’s an adult, and it’s not what she would want for him, and I knew you’d be upset, but it’s his life. And he was so worried, Vincent. The two of you were in jail, and he didn’t know who else to turn to. He was desperate.”

  Her statements were disjointed, but the general gist of them registered with him. “Don’t you dare tell me he...”

  She nodded, and Vincent stopped abruptly. “There’s no way he went to them after everything I did to make sure it didn’t happen.”

  “He did.”

  “You’re wrong! He’s not that stupid, Celia!”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m not wrong.”

  “Then you misunderstood.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Giovanni was here with him.”

  “Giovanni? You have to be kidding. If he took my son—”

  “Vincent,” Corrado said, his harsh voice cutting him off. “You need to watch yourself. You know there are things we cannot and should not say as men of honor, and you’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of saying something you’ll later regret.”

  “But this is Carmine we’re talking about. This is my son!”

  “Yes, but he’s made his choice. He’s in the life now, and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact.”

  “There has to be.”

  “There isn’t,” he said. ”What’s done is done. Accept it.”

  “I can’t!” Vincent said. “I can’t just accept it! Carmine isn’t cut out for this! He’s too young and irrational. He’s throwing his life away and why, Corrado? For what?”

  “For her,” he said, giving him an incredulous look. “How soon you forget, Vincent. You were once that eighteen-year-old boy, turning to Cosa Nostra to save the woman you loved. You may not be pleased with what your life has become, but I know saving Maura is the one decision you don’t regret.”

  “But I didn’t save her! She’s dead, and if I would’ve never gotten involved in this, she’d—”

  “She’d what?” Corrado asked, cutting him off. “She’d be alive? Even you can’t believe that! She’d still be dead today, but she would’ve died a slave. You gave her a chance. Her life was cut short, there’s no denying that, but it wasn’t you or Cosa Nostra that did it. Maura sacrificed herself. You think your son is so much like you, but what you fail to realize is he’s his mother, too. There’s nothing naïve about the decision he made.”

  “You’re wrong. I didn’t save Maura. I never gave her the one thing she needed most—freedom. She should’ve been free of me.”

  “Se ami una cosa, lasciala andare.” Corrado laughed dryly. “If you love something, let it go, right? You were always too philosophical. What does that even mean, Vincent? Freedom?”

  Before he could respond, the phone in the office rang. Corrado grabbed the receiver off the desk in front of him. “Moretti.” He paused. ”Yes, that’s fine. We’ll be there.”

  Vincent sighed when he hung up. “Salvatore.”

  “He wants to see us.”

  “So, where’s my son?” Vincent asked, trying to push back his anger.

  Celia stood off to the side, her arms wrapped around her chest. “I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

  “Days?”

  “He was here with Giovanni, looking for something. I don’t know what they thought they’d find, since the government took pretty much everything. He said he’d call to explain when he had a chance, but I haven't heard from him.”

  He frowned. “Did he at least get the chip working?”

  “I don’t think so,” Celia said. “I know Dom was working on it.”

  Vincent shook his head. “Carmine's in way too deep. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s going to get himself killed.”

  “Let’s hope you’re wrong,” Corrado said. “I hope he knows exactly what he’s up against, because we’re running out of time. How long do you have before you need to report in?”

  “Forty-eight hours.” Vincent had two days to self-surrender to be fitted with an ankle monitor. It wasn’t house arrest, with a curfew or a base that restricted him to a certain location, but a precaution to make sure he didn’t try to disappear. It also meant they could keep a log of everywhere he went, which would strengthen their case if he showed up places he had no business going. He knew it could incriminate others if they were found associating with him, which put him in a precarious situation within the organization.

  “Well, then, I suppose that means we have forty-eight hours,” Corrado said, grabbing his keys. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Corrado started for the door, but Celia grabbed his arm to stop him. “It’s good to have you home, so make sure you come back.”

  He brushed his hand across her cheek as Vincent turned away, not wanting to intrude on their moment. “I always do,” Corrado said.

  Vincent glanced back at his sister once Corrado walked out, seeing the sadness in her expression. “Be careful,” she said. “I expect all of you back in one piece… including Haven.”

  * * * *

  Anger festered inside of Vincent as they drove to Salvatore’s house. They went straight to the den when they arrived, where Salvatore sat with a few members of the organization. The younger ones stood up out of respect, but he ignored them and took his usual seat.

  He ignored the glass of scotch someone tried to hand him, too.

  “It’s nice to see the two of you,” Salvatore said. “It's regrettable this happened, but I know you’re both honorable and trustworthy, so I’m not worried about any future issues in this case.”

  Vincent just stared at him. As usual, Salvatore’s only concern was it coming back on him. He expected them to keep their mouths shut and accept whatever punishment they were given, and the saddest part of all, Vincent thought, was that they’d do it. The Omertà vow of silence they’d taken swore just that.

  “Anyway, onto lighter business,” Sal said. “I assume you’ve heard the good news by now.”

  “About Carmine?” Vincent clenched his hands into fists in his lap. There was nothing light or good about it.

  “Yes, Principe. It’s great to have another generation of DeMarco men working with us. You’ve raised a great son, a loyal man like you. You should be proud.”

  He nodded, clearing his throat to force back the words he really wanted to say. “Where is he?”

  “He's with Giovanni,” Salvatore said. “They've been quite trying to track down poor Haven. Such a shame she hasn't been located.”

  “Have they gotten any information?”

  Salvatore's insensitive laughter cut through the room. “Vincent, you know I’ve chosen to remain uninvolved. You’d have to ask them.”

  “Still? What did my son come to you for then?”

  “Carmine choosing this path had nothing to do with me,” he said, his lips still curved into a sinister smile. “He decided this was the best place for him. Giovanni volunteered to assist on his little mission, and they have all of our resources at their disposal, of course, but it has nothing to do with me.”

  “How can you say that? Our women are to be respected; we're supp
osed to honor and protect them! It's part of the oath; it’s one of our commandments! How can you still not act? How is that not your problem? It's all of our problem!”

  The room fell into a tense silence, and everyone stared at him, stunned. Corrado spoke up before the strain had time to grow. “If you don't mind, I think we should try to catch up with Carmine.”

  “Yes, do that,” Salvatore said. “Use whatever you need.”

  Corrado stood up. “Come on.”

  Vincent pushed his chair back and followed Corrado out of the room. Whispers started up as he exited, but Salvatore demanded silence right away. Vincent knew he shouldn't have reacted as he did, but he was so disgusted that he couldn't stop himself. It felt like everything he’d done had been in vain, a waste of time and energy, because Carmine ended up exactly where he was trying to keep him from going.

  And the girl certainly hadn’t been saved.

  “You must want to die,” Corrado said, walking through the house. “Speaking to him that way will get you killed.”

  Corrado opened a door to a back room and stepped inside. He started opening cabinet doors and grabbing weapons, tossing Vincent two .45 Smith & Wesson's. He pulled out two guns for himself, slipping them into his coat along with more ammunition.

  Giovanni lived not far from Salvatore. The house was empty when Corrado and Vincent arrived. Corrado slipped around the back and kicked in the door, the two of them heading straight to Giovanni’s office. Corrado rifled through drawers and files, looking for anything they might've dug up, while Vincent booted up the computer.

  Corrado found a map of Chicago and unfolded it on the desk beside him. Areas of it were circled and crossed out, the entire thing riddled with writing. Vincent recognized some of it as his son’s, the sloppy words scribbled with a frenzied hand.

  “They have Ivan's properties pinpointed on the map, but there's no way they would've taken Haven somewhere with his name on the deed,” Corrado said. “He’s smarter than that. He would've found somewhere close to home but far enough away to keep the two separate. Somewhere isolated where there was no chance of her being stumbled upon, but not so isolated that their traffic would draw curious eyes. Somewhere people mind their own business.”

  “You would've made a good detective,” Vincent said.

  Corrado shot him an incredulous look. “Just because I understand the mind of a criminal doesn't mean I'd be a good cop.”

  “Yeah, maybe you're right,” Vincent said, scrolling through the computer’s history. “You wouldn’t last a day before you got an excessive force complaint.”

  Corrado stared at him in silence for a moment before turning back to the map, and Vincent focused his attention on the computer. There were numerous addresses and names that had been searched but nothing that stood out as important.

  Corrado pointed to a section of map circled with a pencil. “What’s over here in this side of Austin?”

  “Nothing that I know of,” Vincent said. “It’s a bad neighborhood with a lot of gang activity. Most of the businesses moved out of the area, so there are a lot of vacant buildings.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Corrado said. “It’s a money pit, yet Natalia Volkov owns property there.”

  “Natalia? His daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t she still a teenager?”

  “I believe she just turned nineteen.”

  “Sounds odd.”

  “It does,” Corrado said. “It also sounds like a good place to start.”

  Chapter 49

  The sun had set, darkness falling over Chicago as Vincent and Corrado drove toward the west side of the city. There was a full moon hovering in the sky, a ring of light surrounding it that was partially shielded by a thin layer of cloud covering. The wind whipped a bit, vibrating the car with its unpredictable gusts.

  The lack of communication was beginning to wear on Vincent’s nerves. He had no idea what his son was up to, what situation he was in or if he was even okay. Giovanni had never given Vincent reason to distrust him, but the fact that it was his soldati that had gone awry didn’t sit well with him. If he'd been paying attention, he would’ve seen it.

  Corrado turned off the highway when they neared the area, cruising through the streets. Most of the buildings appeared abandoned, worn down and boarded up. Gang signs were strewn around with spray-paint, made by street thugs and hustlers that thought themselves to be hardcore. Men who had no true loyalty, no respect within their orders. Antonio had always been disgusted by them, disturbed by their tactics and lack of civility. He loathed their usage of the words ‘gangster’ and ‘Mafia’, cringed at their definition of ‘initiation’ and ‘brotherhood’.

  Vincent couldn’t count how many times he’d heard his father rant about it, priding himself on the fact that at least his organization had respect. They may have broken the law and committed heinous crimes, but in his mind, all of it was founded.

  His father took the oath seriously and believed, until the day he died, that the organization he ran for decades was a true family, la famiglia, with a bond stronger than blood. Antonio may not have been a loved man because of how strict he was, but people followed his example. No one stepped out of line with him around.

  Vincent certainly never thought he’d see the day where he wished his father was still in control.

  “Are you all right, Vincent?” Corrado asked. “We don’t have room for second thoughts.”

  “I’m not having second thoughts,” he said. “I’m just thinking about how disturbed my father would be about this.”

  “None of this would be happening if your father were alive,” Corrado said. “He was an honorable man, as far as honor goes within our world. He made you fight for what you wanted instead of handing it to you, because he wanted you to be the type of man who took a stand. If your father hadn’t died, the respect would still be there. Antonio’s organization was united and strong.”

  “And now we’re no better than the men tagging these buildings.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I think most of us still have our honor.”

  “Where’s the honor when innocents are dying? Maura’s gone. Nicholas is dead. The doctor in Asheville…”

  “They died for an innocent,” he said. “It’s unfortunate, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do to protect what matters. What you’ve done for Haven, after what she’s cost you, is honorable. I can’t say I’d do the same if I were in your position. If it were my wife, I would’ve killed the girl a long time ago.”

  “I almost did,” he said. “I wanted to.”

  “But you didn’t,” he said. ”Instead, you’re risking your life to find her, and that’s where the honor is, Vincent. Sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture.”

  Vincent shook his head as Corrado pulled the car behind a vacant building, partially concealing it beside a dumpster. “I never imagined you’d be the one to give me a pep talk about this.”

  “Well, you heard my wife,” he said as he cut the engine. “She told me to come home, and I need you to have a level head for that to be possible. I may be breaking my vows to the organization, but I have no intention of breaking my vows to my wife.”

  They climbed out and walked alongside the building, staying out of sight. Corrado stopped when he reached the corner, and Vincent spotted a black Mercedes parked amongst some trees. “Is that Giovanni’s car?”

  “It’s Squint’s,” Corrado said, reaching into his coat to pull out one of his guns. “I’m going across to check it out. Cover me.”

  Vincent pulled out a gun and flicked off the safety as Corrado jogged across the road. He peered into the car and tried the doors as Vincent watched the area for signs of movement. Corrado looked around, glancing into the windows of a building that appeared to be an old business long ago vacated.

  He returned after a moment, shaking his head. “It’s empty.”

  Vincent started to speak when a loud noise rang out behind them, s
tartling him into silence. He swung around, aiming his weapon, but Corrado pulled him around the corner instead. Multiple rushed voices blurred together, cutting through the night as Corrado motioned for them to cross the street. They hid alongside the vacant building he’d checked out moments earlier, watching as three people stepped out from a warehouse.

  The men paused in the spot Vincent and Corrado had been standing minutes ago. Vincent recognized Squint, a guy with shaggy blonde hair nonchalantly clutching an AK-47 beside him. It was one of Volkov’s guys, one that had been in the pizzeria. The third man seemed vaguely familiar, but Vincent couldn’t place him in the dark.

  “Brazen,” Corrado said. “Brave and careless. It’s a dangerous combination.”

  “Demented is what they are,” Vincent said as Squint pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to the third guy. He and the man with the AK-47 disappeared back inside.

  “Unlocked,” Corrado observed. “I suppose we can add stupid to the list of adjectives.”

  The third guy started across the street toward Squint’s car. Corrado gripped his gun, slipping around the back of the building. Vincent took a few steps around the front, remaining in the shadows. He reached the corner just as Corrado warded off the guy, pointing his gun at his head.

  The guy threw up his hands as he dropped the keys. “Corrado.”

  The voice struck Vincent as familiar. His stomach sank when he realized why. “Tarullo?”

  The guy turned, fear flashing across his face. Dean Tarullo, the son of the man that had saved Carmine’s life.

  “Uh, Vincent, sir,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  Before Vincent could respond, Corrado threw the boy against the side of the building, patting him down. Pressing his gun into the boy’s throat, his finger lightly touched the trigger. “You know why we’re here, and you’re going to tell us what we want to know.”

  “But I don’t know anything.”