Natalie's Dilemma: a Frank Renzi crime thriller (Frank Renzi novels Book 7)

by Susan Fleet

  Frank was taking her to a hospital. He seemed worried about her.

  Strange. For a long time, she had thought of him as her enemy. Now he seemed more like a friend.

  During her life's journey, she had cared deeply for only a handful of people. Mom had been the center of her world until she was ten, and then Mom was gone, brutally beaten to death.

  After that her heart was an iceberg inside her chest. Later that year, the ice thawed a bit when she adopted a stray kitten. She loved petting Muffy's soft fur and hearing her purr after she lapped up milk with her little pink tongue. When her cousin killed Muffy, she knew hate for the first time, a deep loathing that inspired her first urge to kill.

  Years later in high school, she had studied her heritage. Guided by the Vietnamese spirit gods, she made a solemn vow to avenge her mother's murder. Taekwondo lessons, acting in drama club and befriending Gabe sustained her through high school. She tried to picture Gabe's face. It had been so long since she'd seen him. He and his wife had twin sons.

  She tried to figure out how old they must be, but her brain refused to cooperate. The pain was worse now, agonizing when the van jolted to a stop and started up again.

  After high school she set out to avenge her mother's murder, her heart set in stone. Until she met Willem and fell in love with him. He thawed her frozen heart, but in the end he had abandoned her. Years later she'd found momentary happiness with Oliver, but he betrayed her too. When it came down to it, other than Mom and Gabe and Pak Lam, everyone she had ever cared about had betrayed her.

  Even Bianca. Not intentionally, but when Bianca told Orazio that she had talked to Frank on the phone, it had sealed her fate.

  She opened her eyes and studied Frank, kneeling beside her, grim-faced, his eyes fixed on the front windows of the van.

  Would Frank betray her? In Boston she had read news articles about him. He had suffered his own betrayals. Maybe they were kindred spirits after all. If she hadn't killed three men in New Orleans, she would never have met him.

  Was that what the Vietnamese spirit gods had intended all along?

  A spasm of coughing consumed her. She had no strength left.

  Not even a good-luck lily and the Mountain Man could save her this time.

  _____

  Tony's monumental sneeze gave them a good laugh—Vivian said it should go in the Guinness Book of World Records—but Frank urged her to drive faster. Natalie's face had a grayish pallor and her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling.

  “Screw the traffic lights,” he said. “East Jefferson Hospital is only five minutes away.”

  When he told Natalie it was safe to talk, her eyes opened. “I didn't tell Bianca about her father. Bad enough that she lost her mother. How is Jacques? Such a sad little boy. Who killed his mother?”

  “He's not doing too well, but you got him to talk when you sang to him. The man who shot his mother is in jail, awaiting trial.” He didn't see any point in telling her who'd shot Jacques' mother.

  And then they were at East Jefferson Hospital. Frank had called ahead so when Vivian pulled the van under the canopy in front of the emergency room entrance, two men in green scrubs were waiting.

  Now that they were finally here, he was reluctant to leave her.

  Natalie gripped his hand and locked eyes with him. “Promise me you will talk to Pak Lam.”

  “I will,” he said. “I promise.”

  “He will be worried about me. Do you have my iPhone? His number is in it.”

  “Where's your iPhone?”

  “In my leather handbag. On the bed in my room.”

  “Okay. After we get you into the hospital, I'll go get it. Don't worry, I'll call him.” After he captured the bastard who'd shot her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For a long time I considered you an enemy. Now you seem more like a friend.”

  Overcome with conflicting emotions, he couldn't speak. He felt sad that she was so alone, no relatives, no friends here. Glad that she trusted him enough to ask him to call her friend in Boston. Guilty that he had to arrest her and put her in jail.

  But he had no time to tell her this. The back door of the van opened and two EMTs told him to get out, they'd take it from here.

  When he got out, the EMTs whisked Natalie onto a waiting gurney. And she was gone.

  A security guard motioned at Vivian to move the van. She pulled forward, turned right and parked in a fire lane. ALPERT'S FINE FLOWERS was barely visible in the dim light.

  Frank ran to the driver's door and said to Vivian, “You did great with the mobsters, but we need the van to get back to the house.”

  To his surprise, she said, “No problem. I'll take a cab to the golf course. My husband's probably in the bar by now. I'll have the bartender mix us a couple of Hurricanes. Otherwise Herb might faint when I tell him what just happened.”

  “Herb,” he said. “Herb Alpert?”

  Vivian rolled her eyes like she'd heard this before. “Yes, but not the trumpet player. Herb's got a way with flowers, though. He makes gorgeous floral arrangements.”

  “You need money for the cab? I'll pay for the fare.”

  “Are you kidding? I should pay you! This is the most excitement I've had in years. And don't fret about your boss. I'll tell him Big Guy drove and I was safe in back with you.”

  Frank laughed and shook his head. “You're something else, Vivian. When things calm down after the holidays, Tony and I will take you and Herb out for a drink.”

  He got behind the wheel, put the van in gear and said to Tony, “Let's go get the sonofabitch that shot Natalie in the back.”

  “Now you're talking,” Tony said. “She didn't look too good, but the doctors will fix her up.”

  “I hope so.” Frank stomped the accelerator and headed for the exit

  Ten minutes later he stopped one street over, behind Vivian's house. An NOPD cruiser blocked the intersection. Two uniformed officers stood beside the cruiser.

  “I know these guys, Frank. Lemme handle this.” Tony jumped out and ran over to the two officers. He gestured at Vivian's van, pointed down the street, came back and jumped in the van. “I told 'em we had to get to the NOPD surveillance van down the street.” Tony grinned. “I didn't tell them what we were gonna do after we got there.”

  Frank pulled around the NOPD cruiser and accelerated. “Park behind the van,” Tony said. “We need to pick up a few essentials.”

  The essentials turned out to be a grappling hook with a rope line, handcuffs and a box of latex gloves. Tony gave him a pair of gloves and said, “You're already facing an IAD hearing for shooting King Rock. No sense leaving any prints while we're gunning for this Orazio prick.”

  They put on gloves and trotted alongside the house behind Vivian's. No lights inside the house, no gunshots from the mob house. The neighborhood was eerily quiet. Normally, in a situation like this all the looky-loos would be outside, but apparently the radio and TV bulletins warning people to stay inside had worked.

  Just as they reached the wood-rail fence behind Vivian's house, Frank's cellphone rang. On their way here, they had ignored the chatter on Tony's radio, but he couldn't ignore this call. He signaled Tony to wait and answered.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Vobitch said. “All hell breaks loose, not a peep from you.”

  “Tony and I just took Natalie to the hospital. Orazio shot her in the back.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “She didn't look good.”

  “Where are you now?”

  A burst of gunfire came from the mobsters. The perfect excuse to say to Vobitch, “Near the mob house. Gotta go. It's bedlam here.”

  He put away his cellphone and said to Tony, “Let's go.”

  They hopped the rail fence, ran along the south side of Vivian's ranch house and stopped beside her garage.

  More gunfire from the mobsters. “Motherfuckers got automatic weapons,” Tony muttered.

  “Right. At least three shooters,
maybe four. Orazio, Tomasso, the Mafia thug who guards the door and Tomasso's wife.”

  “One for each side of the house,” Tony said. “So what's the plan?”

  “I figured we'd climb up to the gutter between the house and the garage roof, get into the house through Natalie's bedroom window. But if the mobsters see us, we're toast.”

  “Maybe not,” Tony said. “They're busy shooting at the FBI agents. But we gotta worry about the feds, too.” He jerked his head at the fence between Vivian's property and the mob house. “Let's take a peek.”

  Crouched low, they sprinted across Vivian's lawn to the fence. Frank took a look and said, “Good news. When we drove past the Hummer, it was in front of the house. Now it's twenty yards farther up the street, parked beside the fence on the north side of the house.”

  Tony took a look and said, “Okay. The feds are focused on the thugs in the house. They won't be expecting somebody to try and get into it. But we gotta be careful. Hard to tell where the inside shooters are. I see the gutter and the second floor window above it. There's a side door beside the garage, but it's closed. No window in the door.”

  “No windows on the side of the house beside the garage either.”

  “That's your Dodge in the driveway, right? Strategically it's in a great tactical position, halfway between us and the garage. We run to the Dodge first, then to the garage.”

  Gripping his Glock, Frank said, “Cover me. I'll go first.”

  Tony grabbed his arm. “Hold on. For all we know this Orazio prick could be in Natalie's room. But it seems like the shooters are focused on the feds in the Hummer. Next time shots are fired, you run to the Dodge. I'll cover you. If nobody shoots at you, run to the garage and cover me until I get there.” Tony smiled grimly. “My urban warfare experience comes in handy sometimes.”

  A long minute passed. Then, a burst of shots came from the house. The agents in the Hummer returned fire. During the ear-splitting gunfire, Frank sprinted to the Dodge and crouched behind it. Tony signaled him to go. He sprinted to the garage and flattened his back against the side of the house. If anyone shot at Tony, he wouldn't be able to cover him. The Hummer was parked near the north side of the house where he couldn't see it. He could barely see Natalie's window on the second floor. The good news. Nobody could see him, either.

  He waited tensely.

  More gunfire, the mobsters firing at the Hummer.

  Then he saw Tony run to the Dodge. Moments later Tony ran up the driveway and slapped him on the back. “So far so good, Frank. Here's what we do. I boost you up to the gutter and toss you the grappling hook. You secure the hook and I haul myself up to the gutter. Then we hunker down for a bit, see what happens.”

  Tony laced his fingers together. Frank holstered his Glock, put one foot in Tony's hands, and Tony thrust him upward. He grabbed the edge of the roof, chinned himself upward and scrambled onto the gutter. Tony tossed him the grappling hook with the rope.

  He secured the hook and Tony hauled himself up the side of the garage onto the gutter.

  “That's Natalie's window,” Frank whispered, pointing. “But there's another window overlooking the street. Orazio's room is beside hers.”

  “Could be dicey,” Tony muttered. “What if he's in her room?”

  Frank took out his Glock. “I'll shoot the fucker.”

  “Like hell. He sees you, you're dead. Here's what we do. We get under the window. I kneel down and make like a fucking camel. Hold your Glock in one hand, ready to shoot, and stand on my back. Take a quick peek in the window. If you see him, jump off my back. He comes to the window, we blow the fucker away.”

  With a grim smile, Frank whispered, “Tony, you never told me you had these hidden talents.”

  “Yeah, well, it's the best plan I got, but shit happens. Be careful.”

  They crept along the gutter until they were below the window.

  Tony put his Glock on the gutter, knelt down and planted his palms on the gutter. “Go for it.”

  Holding the Glock in his right hand, his finger off the trigger, Frank braced himself against the side of the house with his left hand. Put one foot on Tony's back, steadied himself, then the other. Slowly but surely he straightened. Now his head was just below the windowsill.

  Was Orazio in the room? The Kevlar vest would protect his torso, but Tony was right. His head would be an easy target.

  When Tom Cruise did this in Mission Impossible, it looked easy. It wasn't.

  He set his finger on the trigger. Gripping the sill with his left hand, he stood on his tiptoes and looked into the room. He saw no one.

  “Clear,” he whispered. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, he hauled himself over the windowsill into the room. Hot, sweaty and out of breath, he rose to his feet, stuck his head out the window, gave Tony a thumbs-up and waved him up to the window.

  A burst of automatic gunfire erupted, deafeningly close.

  Frank couldn't pinpoint the exact location, but some of the gunfire came from the second floor, part of it from downstairs. Fortunately, the shots masked the loud thud Tony made as he hauled himself inside and tumbled onto the floor.

  Tony scrambled to his feet and whispered, “What's that?” Pointing to an open door on the other side of the room beyond a twin bed.

  “Looks like a bathroom,” Frank whispered.

  “I'll check it.” Moving silently for a such a large man, Tony slowly advanced toward the door, his Glock in firing position.

  Frank spotted Natalie's leather handbag on the bed nearest the side window. He opened it, took the items he wanted and slipped them into his pockets. Quickly and quietly, he crept to the hall door, which was ajar.

  Across the hall, another door was wide open. A woman stood near the window. Tomasso's wife, Frank assumed.

  Catarina held an Uzi in one hand, but clearly wasn't ready to use it. The weapon was dangling from her left hand, and she was crying.

  Tony came out of the bathroom and whispered, “Clear.”

  Frank beckoned him closer and whispered, “The mobster's wife is in the room across the hall with an Uzi. Let's rush her.”

  Tony took a look and nodded. “But quietly.”

  Weapons drawn, they crept across the hall and entered the room.

  Catarina saw them. Her mouth sagged open and she dropped the Uzi on the floor.

  “Don't shoot,” she said, “I give up!”

  Another round of gunfire exploded, downstairs and upstairs.

  Frank picked up Catarina's Uzi.

  CHAPTER 45

  Orazio stood in the darkness, gripping his cellphone. “Where are your men, Silvano? We are trapped here, pinned down by a SWAT team.”

  “My men are in armor-clad cars at both ends of the block. But they just called and told me that sirens are approaching, a lot of them. I saw a bulletin on TV. Police action in Metairie it said.”

  “Silvano, we are outnumbered and low on ammo. We have to get out of this house! Two cars are in the garage, ready to go. Tell your men to pin down the men in the Hummer.”

  Silence on the other end.

  A fulminating fury rose inside him. “Silvano, listen carefully. Do you want the cops to come in here and find three million dollars worth of diamonds in Tick-Tock's house? Tell your men to attack these FBI agents in the Hummer so we can escape!”

  A heavy sigh on the other end. “Orazio, that would be foolhardy. Certain slaughter. I cannot order my men to do this.”

  Orazio ended the call, tossed the cellphone on his bed and clenched his fists.

  La Cosa Nostra was about Family and loyalty. But sometimes even Family could betray you.

  Trust no one. Father's words, spoken to him many years ago.

  The sound of voices brought him to his senses.

  Male voices in Tommy's room down the hall. But Tommy and Rocco were downstairs.

  Who was in the house?

  He slammed a fresh magazine into his Uzi.

  _____

  Frank gave Catar
ina his don't-fuck-with-me look. “Who else is up here?” Tony had checked the bathroom and found no one.

  Catarina shrank away from him. “Non loso,” she said. I don't know.

  Using what little Italian he'd learned from his grandparents, Frank said, “Dove Orazio?”

  “Non loso.”

  “Parla inglese. Where's your husband?”

  Catarina pointed at the floor. “Orazio tells him go downstairs.”

  He released the safety on her Uzi and went to doorway. A flash of motion down the hall, Orazio poking his head out the door of his room. He spotted Frank and ducked back into the room.

  “Orazio,” he yelled. “Put your weapon on the floor and come out with your hands up.”

  Silence. He risked a quick peek and jumped back from the door.

  A burst of gunfire from an automatic weapon sprayed the doorway. The frame shattered and slivers of wood scattered over the floor.

  Tony shoved Catarina down on the bed to get her out of the line of fire. She looked like she was in shock, gasping for breath, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Frank heard footsteps in the hall. He raised the Uzi, sprang to the doorway and saw Orazio run downstairs.

  “Tony, the target just went downstairs. Catarina, who else is downstairs besides your husband?”

  “A guard?” she whispered. “I not know his name.”

  “Tony,” he said, “we need to immobilize her.”

  “No problem.” Tony pulled zipties out of his pocket and cuffed Catarina's wrists, used more to cuff her to the spindles in the headboard and said, “Silencio or we'll be back.”

  She nodded vigorously, her eyes fearful.

  To Frank, Tony said, “You believe her? We know Natalie's room is clear, but we better check the other rooms up here. Ya never know.”

  They cautiously advanced down the hall, weapons raised. No sign of life, no motion, no telltale sounds. Tony sprang across an open doorway beyond Natalie's room and motioned to Frank. He burst into Orazio's room.