“Oh! So now you know she wants me. You were against our relationship from the start! You forced me to stay away from her!” Walter yelled out loud.
“Forced you? Those were tough times. I wasn’t going to risk the Olivetti name for some Disney love story. You agreed to do this. You closed your mind to everything after father died, including her!” Don Olivetti yelled.
Walter chuckled.
“That’s what you think it was, right? Disney love story? Father would have never approved of what you did. Good luck trying to infiltrate the Sanchez family. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, but I’ll not let Catherine go through any more pain. That’s the least I can do for her,” Walter said as he stood up to walk away.
“What if Pablo was alive? What if Pablo is actually your son?” Don Olivetti asked. Walter froze.
Tom removed his gloves then handed it to Sylvester. They were at the construction site his family owned. A sixty floor story building was in progress. It was going to be the new Olivetti Corporation headquarters, an investment venture to lead to full blown legitimacy. The construction workers had gone for the day and the night was as dark as oil.
Tom walked briskly, through the pile of rubble, to Purio Maccuzo’s location. Cement dust rose with every footstep they took. Finally, Tom got to where Purio Maccuzo was.
“I’m so happy to see you again,” Tom said sadistically. There was a stray flood light on all corners of the incomplete room. Purio was in the center, on his knees, being held by two men and bleeding from parts of his newly reconstructed face.
“The famous Thomas Olivetti. You’re growing up and looking more like a man every day, boy,” Purio mocked.
“Even in the face of death you still make jokes…” Tom said as he walked around him, in circles.
“You nearly killed my father. It has hunted me for a while. I could barely sleep till I ordered your death. Then, out of nowhere, you show up! Alive again! And my uncle dies with two bullets to his head. Now my life is so fucked up with guilt, because of your actions…” Tom began.
“And now, here you are, making jokes,” He sighed. “I suggest you choose your words wisely from now on,” Tom said.
“Nothing will make a difference. You can torture me or kill me! The end is inevitable. You and your family will die,” Purio said. Sylvester hit Purio with a fist full of strength. Purio spat out blood then laughed hysterically.
“No! Don’t waste your energy. I’d rather not see blood,” Tom said to Sylvester as he rolled up his sleeves.
“Ha-ha listen to your two year old boss, fucking punk,” Purio mocked as he spat out more blood, on the floor. Dean stood at the far corner, smoking a cigarette casually, like none of it mattered. His impeccable taste of fashion was never compromised regardless of the situation. Despite walking through dusty sand, his shoes were as spotless as fresh paint.
“Get me a metal barrel!” Tom ordered.
“What?” Sylvester asked.
“The Barrels used to store large quantities of liquid. You know that?” Tom replied.
“Oh sure boss!” a guard said then ran off.
“And bring some Cement with it too!” Tom said, crouching to look into Purio Maccuzo’s eyes. He stared into them for twenty seconds, never shifting his gaze. Purio’s countenance changed from smiles to fear. He had never seen eyes that cold. It reminded him of his father’s eyes, during his childhood. Only ten times worse.
Purio remembered when his father came home drunk, after work. He beat up his mother till his mother had no face left then turned towards him. He had never seen anyone that angry, in his entire life. That man wasn’t his father anymore. He was someone else—something else. Purio remembered grabbing a blunt knife in the kitchen then stabbing his father multiple times till the coldness in his eyes disappeared into nothingness. His childhood was brutal and torture didn’t faze him, until then.
“You’re going to tell me what I need to know,” Tom said in a sadistic and calm tone. It was like looking into the devils eyes. Purio shivered in fear.
“I’m not a violent person,” Tom began as he walked around Purio. His shoes made loud thuds on the floor.
Just then, his guard returned with an empty metal barrel and some cement. Some others joined him to mix the cement up in the barrel.
“You’re going to talk!” Tom said with complete assurance. “My loved ones are dropping like flies and I have no time to waste,” Tom added.
“Fuck you!” Purio replied, still in obvious fear.
“This is bigger than you think!” Purio added.
“You killed my uncle and attempted to kill my grandmother. That doesn’t even matter as much. Then again, it does, because you work for the fucking Cartels. I hate them. I’d put a bullet in your head just for looking at them, but like I said, I hate blood!” Tom replied. Purio watched Tom’s men mix the cement in the barrel.
“What are you going to do with that?” Purio asked in a morbid state of fear. His mind wasn’t as creative as Tom’s, but he knew it would be worse than last time.
“You’ll find out soon enough if you don’t cooperate,” Tom replied.
“I know you didn’t kill Stanley yourself. You look too weak to do that. You must have had help from someone else—someone clean and professional,” Tom added. “Who is he?” Tom asked.
“Fuck you!” Purio said out loud.
Tom sighed as he made a gesture to his men to lift him up. Purio struggled and kicked as he was placed in the barrel of cement. They pushed him in deeper till the cement was up to his shoulder level. Tom’s men held him down to prevent him from moving. Purio struggled to get out, but his hands and feet were tight. It was all in vain. Only his head was visible.
“This is quick drying cement. It should take five minutes to completely dry up. Maybe less. I don’t know. I’m not an engineer, so I have no idea,” Tom said nonchalantly as Purio began to cry out.
“This is not going to work. If you kill me, you don’t get any information!” Purio replied.
“Who said anything about killing you?” Tom replied as Purio realized Tom’s plan.
“Wait! Wait! Hold on! I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Purio replied, still struggling. The cement was drying faster than he thought.
“Well, be quick! It’s drying,” Tom replied. “Okay Uhm. His name is Roberto Puccini!” Purio replied.
“So what do I need to know about him?” Tom replied
“He killed your uncle, drugged your grandmother…” Purio replied.
“Who ordered it?” Tom replied.
“Does it matter?” Purio asked
“The cement is drying faster. I won’t be able to get you out even if I wanted to. So speak up!” Tom replied sarcastically.
“Don Cruccifixo and Don Sanchez!” Purio added.
“Okay! I figured that out already. What else do I not know?” Tom replied.
“They have her! Now, get me out of this thing and I’ll tell you where she is,” Purio added. Dean gazed at Tom.
“Who are you talking about?” Tom asked as he held Purio’s head up by the hair.
“Get me out! I can feel it drying!” Purio yelled in absolute fear. “No! Tell me first!” Tom said.
“The girl! Nina Owen! The boss got a call that some niggas have her. Roberto Puccini took them out and got the girl!” Purio yelled louder. “Now get me out!” Purio added.
“You still haven’t answered my question. Where is she!?” Tom asked impatiently.
“She’s…she’s…argh…get me out!” Purio yelled. He could no longer wiggle.
“Just say it and I’ll get you out. If not, you’ll remain here!” Tom replied desperately.
“Puccini has her. He’s probably in some hotel banging her!” Purio mocked. “I’d rather stay here than give you the benefit of knowing. You’re going to kill me anyways,” Purio laughed hysterically.
“So be it!” Tom said as he turned his back on him.
“I’ll find out either way. In the meant
ime, your body will be stuck in a block of cement. You won’t be able to move, poop, pee, or scratch. The more you struggle, the more pain you feel. In two days, you’ll beg them to kill you. Even if you are found, it’ll be hard to get that cement separated from your body parts. In about 5 minutes, it’ll be even harder. Don’t forget that the pores on your skin will be gasping for air and your body organs will slowly begin to malfunction. You’ll suffocate slowly from the inside and your lower body will be as cold as ice. It’s not a good feeling, trust me. I’ve taken enough biology classes to know that it’ll be a slow but painful death,” Tom said as he wore his gloves. His guard handed him his trench coat. He put it on. By this time, the guards didn’t need to hold Purio into the cement anymore.
“Alright! Alright! Roosevelt hotel. Room 1204!” Purio yelled, scared of his existential circumstance. Tom smiled.
“Thank you, but it’s too late! You wasted too much time!” Tom said as he signaled Sylvester and Dean to follow him.
“No! No! You can’t leave me here like this!” Purio yelled.
“My uncles will pay you a visit soon. Let’s hope they have mercy on you or better still, let’s hope you don’t have a cardiac arrest before they get here!” Tom said as he walked away.
30
The room was blurry. Her head felt as heavy as lead. She groaned in excruciating pain. She could hear the sound of the central ventilation in the room she was in. Whatever she was lying on, was soft and comfortable. It felt like a hospital, but her surroundings didn’t smell or feel like a hospital. The pillows were more comfortable than hospital pillows. The comforter was soothing.
She remembered the last time she was admitted at the hospital. She had fallen from a tree and suffered a broken ankle. She went to the doctor. The following day, she was completely healed.
Her memory began to trickle down detail by detail and suddenly she remembered what had happened. She remembered Damon’s men running after her. She remembered falling down then slamming her head on the concrete floor.
“Explains the headache,” What happened afterwards? It was unclear. She finally gathered the strength to lean forward. Her eyes began to clear up. There was an image of a fully dressed man in suit, sitting on the chair. A gun was beside him, right on the table. He looked like he could be one of Tom’s men.
“You’re awake!” the man said. The man was friendly. He looked like he could be one of Tom’s guards.
“Where’s Tom?” she asked, holding her comforter up to her chest, unsure of what happened while she was unconscious. She realized she was still wearing the same clothes she had worn to the funeral. She was relieved to know that she wasn’t undressed while asleep.
“You really knocked your head up last night!” the man replied, ignoring her question. She felt her head for scars, but there weren’t any.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Nina said abruptly. The man ignored her statement again. He stood up, grabbed a shopping bag containing a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and converse sneakers. He then tossed it to her.
“I got you new clothes. You can change in the bathroom and take a shower. Everything you need is there!” The man said then returned to take a seat.
Nina was confused. “Who are you?” she asked. “The guy who saved you from the bad guys,” the man replied impatiently.
“You’re with Tom?” she asked. The man didn’t reply. Nina scanned her environment. She was obviously not in a motel. It was more than a luxurious room—more like a super executive suite. Her eyes were on the door. He could be a creep who wanted to watch her naked. She thought of possible ways to run.
“So, I’m guessing you’re not going to talk,” She said as she stood up, took her clothes then pretended to go towards the bathroom. She walked slowly, dropped her clothes then bolted to the door. She began unlocking the door. Before she could open it, the man was right beside her.
“My name is Roberto Puccini, I’m not a friend of Tom’s. I do not work for him and I strongly suggest you cooperate or I might have to kill you,” He said as he slammed the door shut. He held her hands tightly. She struggled restlessly. He dragged her to the bathroom, threw her clothes in and shut the door.
“Get cleaned up! I ordered room service so your food should be ready soon,” He said as he walked back to his seat, calmly.
“I told you, I know nothing about the dead girl!” Damon said, in the FBI interrogation room.
“Bullshit! It all ties to you…the drugs and everything. It became obvious when the dead girl from the warehouse was found. A day ago, you were found in a city CCTV camera with John Baker who was later found dead in a vehicle of yours. Now, I don’t know how stupid you think we are, but you’re going down for something!” Agent Weaver yelled. Damon panicked. There was no way he could get out of the situation. He felt stupid. He was looking at thirty five to life for one murder alone.
“Fooled by a boy,” he thought. Everything was tied to him. He tried to sound casual.
“Where’s my lawyer?” Damon asked. “Lawyer? You don’t need a lawyer. You’re screwed already,” Agent Weaver said to Damon. He smiled at his partner, Agent Parker
“Let me make you understand better. You have been charged for kidnapping and killing Ricky Raymond, possession and transportation of illegal drugs in the United States and the killing of John Baker. Our theory is, when you found out your mediocre transporter, John Baker, failed, you tried to shut down your warehouse. Unfortunately, Ricky Raymond was in your way and you killed her. Then you got a loophole to bail John Baker out of Jail just so you can get your truck of goods back and you could kill him more easily!” Agent Weaver said.
“Ha-ha congrats, it takes a dumbass to figure that out!” Damon replied. Agent Weaver and Agent Parker scoffed at Damon’s willingness to be uncooperative.
“I didn’t kill her! I swear! It’s definitely that Tom kid!” Damon added.
“Tom who?” Agent Weaver asked.
“Olivettowski or Olivetti or some shit name like that,” Damon replied.
Agent Weaver and Agent Parker froze. Damon looked at the agents from side to side, surprised by their facial reaction. “Oh so you do know that motherfucker?” Damon added.
“We’re done here!” Agent Weaver said as they exited the room.
“No! We’re not! Where’s my Lawyer!?” Damon yelled. They didn’t respond. Just then, Damon’s Lawyer walked in. He had a stereotypical lawyer look. He was wearing a sharp suit, an expensive Rolex watch on and shoes that could buy two brand new LCD TVs. He dropped his brief case on the table then clicked it open.
“I hope you didn’t say anything to them?” Damon’s lawyer asked.
“Well, if you had come here on time, I wouldn’t have had to,” Damon replied.
“I travelled across state lines,” Damon’s lawyer replied, calmly ignoring Damon’s obnoxious behavior.
“I pay you enough to get your ass here on time. No excuses bruh. You can’t be leaving a nigga hanging!” Damon replied.
“What did you say to them?” Damon’s lawyer replied, going straight to the point.
“I told them everything. How I wasn’t involved in the girl’s death,” Damon replied.
“I take it they don’t believe you,” his lawyer replied.
“I take it you’re smart. These dumb cops think I owned the warehouse. I told them it belonged to Tom Olivetti and they gave this look like they knew who exactly I was talking about,”
Damon’s lawyer froze. Damon was confused.
“What! I’ve seen that look before! Why does everyone make that face when I mention his name?” Damon asked.
“Look Damon, if you know what’s good for you, never mention that name in any police station or government building,” Damon’s lawyer replied.
“What!? Who the fuck is he? Who the hell are they?” Damon replied.
“Never mention his name! If you want to get out of this…alive,” his lawyer warned.
“Why?” Damon asked half scared and half curio
us. Damon’s lawyer sighed deeply as he rolled his eyes.
“I can’t explain it. Everyone who mentions that name in here…in any law enforcement agency, disappears,” Damon’s lawyer whispered. This time, Damon took him seriously. Every wrinkle on his lawyer’s face proved he wasn’t bluffing.
Don Olivetti got out of his car as he adjusted his overcoat. He was bleeding in pride. Tom had captured Purio Maccuzo again.
“That kid is a genius,” he thought. Tom always exceeded his expectations.
Two bodyguards walked ahead and behind Don Olivetti as his brother, Georgie Olivetti, followed. Don Olivetti smiled as he sighted Purio Maccuzo in a barrel of cement. Tom had done the unspeakable.
“Mister Maccuzo. It’s good to finally meet you,” Don Olivetti said with morbid enthusiasm.
“Daniel Olivetti!” Purio said with little energy. He had struggled so much to get out of the cement, he could feel himself bleed from the inside. The men Tom had left to watch Purio were busy playing cards and smoking cigarettes. They saw Don Olivetti. They stood up abruptly to acknowledge the presence of the Don.
“Yes! I see you’re in too much pain,” Don Olivetti said as Georgie Olivetti cussed behind his teeth, in anger.
“I expected more from you. If you killed my little brother, you should have been on guard. You were easily captured. It’s kinda insulting. It only means you underestimated the Olivettis,” Don Olivetti said with both of his hands folded in front of him. Purio looked at him in defeat and fear. He was weak. His eyes could barely stay open.
“Now, tell me what I need to hear,” Don Olivetti said, with a strong authoritative tone.
“Just let me die!” Purio said weakly.
“We don’t want you dead, scumbag. Tell us what we need to know,” Georgie added.
Don Olivetti began to walk around, slowly, with even paces.
“You know I don’t usually pay visits like this. I feel it’s not worth my time. I have people who pay these visits for me. But, if I do decide to pay a visit and let’s just say, for instance, you decide to be uncooperative. I’m not going to be happy,” Don Olivetti started. Purio Maccuzo was oozing with fear. Don Olivetti’s aura made him tremble.
Olivetti: Inception Page 20