Olivetti: Inception

by Tamilore Odimayo

  It was eight at night. Nine Mexican men dressed in black used grapple ropes to climb over the fence. They brought out their sub machine guns with silencers on it. It had been a long week for them. They had crossed the Mexican border and had to drive all the way to New York. Their job was simple—kill Don Cruccifixo. They were trained by the Mexican military forces. The Cartels paid them more than ten times their previous salary for private annihilations.

  They strategically shot all the guards in the compound. The sound of people dropping dead could be heard. They avoided the front door. They could see the other guards behind closed doors through their heat censor. They wanted limited casualties. One of the men shot a rope gun to the west side window that led to Don Cruccifixo’s room then zip lined upwards.

  “There’s not much time left for me now. I just wanted to let you know that there are more people on your side than you know. In time, they’ll find you and help you. Till then, make sure you take care of your mother. Catherine has been through a lot,” Don Cruccifixo said with overwhelming emotion.

  He could feel his time drawing near. He had made extra precautions for his safety, but knew his precautious will be futile. Don Sanchez was part of the Mexican cartel and in a matter of time, the entire cartel army will help avenge the death of Don Sanchez’s son.

  “Is everything alright?” Tom finally asked, noticing his grandfather’s tone.

  “It will be. Frederick will be happy. Things worked out. Take care, son. If all goes well, I will be speaking to you soon,” Don Cruccifixo replied then hung up.

  He stood up, sighed and then walked up the stairs. He stopped. Something wasn’t right. He signaled his bodyguards to follow him up the stairs. He walked slowly behind them as they searched the hallway. Finally, they got into Don Cruccifixo’s room then searched the entire place.

  “It’s clear,” his guard said.

  Don Cruccifixo walked into his room with his two guards. He opened his walk-in closet full of weapons, Italian suits, clothes and shoes. There were shot guns, rifles, and grenades. He removed his Jacket, placed it on a hanger and placed the hanger on the shelf. Just then, another guard ran into the room.

  “Boss we have to leave! They’re in the compound! The…the others! They’re dead!” the guard yelled. Chills ran through Don Cruccifixo’s spine. He turned to the mirror. There was a reflection of three men dressed in black, hiding in a remote corner of the closet. Don Cruccifixo grabbed a grenade. He pulled the ring out of the grenade then held on to it tightly.

  “Who sent you!?” he asked in fury.

  “Cartel!” one of the men replied in a thick Mexican accent. Don Cruccifixo’s guards pointed their guns at the three men. Soon, six other men popped out of the window with their guns pointed at Don Cruccifixo. They were outnumbered.

  “If you kill me, we all die,” Don Cruccifixo said as he held the grenade up in the air. He didn’t understand the loyalty of the Cartel. They didn’t mind dying as long as the mission was accomplished.

  “Que Así Sea,” one of the men said. “What does that mean?” Don Cruccifixo asked. “So be it,” one of the Cartel men said as he shot a bullet between Don Cruccifixo’s eyes.

  Blood splattered on the white walls as Don Cruccifixo fell to the ground. The grenade rolled off his hands right next to the other grenades. Everyone in the room struggled to run out. Their sense of sound was heightened. They could hear the grenade bounce and roll to the other grenades in the closet. The man who shot Don Cruccifixo smiled at Don Cruccifixo’s lifeless body.

  “Italians don’t know the meaning of loyalty,” he said as the house exploded into bits.

  He called the number again, but Don Cruccifixo, his grandfather, didn’t pick up. He was anxious. He had more questions. He wanted to know more about the hidden agendas of the family. He wanted to know why he was considered special—there had to be a reason why everyone went through a lot to protect him. Don Olivetti did the right thing by separating him from his mother, Catherine. What would have happened if Tom grew up as Pablo, in the Sanchez family? Tom didn’t look Mexican and had Walter’s features all over him. Billy Sanchez would have killed his mother and him for such scandalous act.

  Just then, Dean walked into Tom’s room without knocking. “Boss! Boss! We have to leave!” Dean said. He walked up to Tom then pulled him out of the room without waiting. Tom was alarmed.

  “What’s going on? At least let me wear something descent,” Tom said.

  “There’s no time for that. Everything you need will be on the plane,” Dean replied.

  “On the plane? What the hell is going on?” Tom replied.

  “Don Cruccifixo has been killed! Word has it that the Cartel has placed a bounty on every Olivetti head,” Dean said as they ran through the hallway.

  “That’s ridiculous. The Cartels don’t have any influence in the United States. We have enough men to take them down,” Tom said as he shrugged off Dean’s grip.

  “Look Tom, the Cartels are like weeds. Until you can kill the source of the weed, they’ll keep multiplying,” Dean replied. Tom realized the seriousness of the situation.

  “What about my family?” Tom asked as he ran down the stairs towards the car.

  “Everyone will be transported to a safe house in Italy,” Dean replied anxiously as he tossed Tom into the car. Tom’s guards were seated on both sides of the car. They had automatic weapons. Two cars followed behind and in front of the car he was in.

  “Where are my uncles and my father?” Tom asked.

  “They are being taken care of as we speak,” Dean replied, driving recklessly through traffic, towards the airport.

  “My grandmother…” Tom replied. Dean was silent.

  “She died thirty minutes ago, Tom,” Dean finally replied. Tom felt his lungs close. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear the chaos. He had just lost two family members in one night. His mind flipped through all possible outcomes. Then, he remembered.

  “Where’s Nina?” Tom asked.

  “Nina? She’ll be okay. Our priority is you, Tom,” Dean replied, swerving through traffic.

  “No! No! Turn the car around now!” Tom ordered. His bodyguards shook nervously as Tom’s commanding tone increased.

  “I’m sorry, Tom. Today, I’ll have to disobey your orders,” Dean replied with an apologetic look on his face. Tom tried to get out of the moving car, but his guards held him down. “N-no no-no please!” Tom argued. His guards were following orders from a higher authority, Don Olivetti. Tom eased up a bit as the cold realization of his helpless situation set in. He remembered the last words Don Cruccifixo told him.

  “Take care of your mother- Catherine,”

  “Okay. Catherine and my mom, are they safe too?” Tom asked calmly. “Yes boss, they are! The entire family is leaving the country tonight,” Dean said as they pulled over at the airport.

  The plane was cleared for take-off by airport authorities. One of the aeronautic engineers walked into the hanger where Tom’s jet was. He was certain Tom will be on that particular jet.

  “Who are you?” one of the guards asked as he stopped the engineer from tampering with the airplane.

  “Airport engineer,” the engineer said as he flashed his ID proudly—James Miller was boldly written on it.

  “I need to do the second check on the plane’s engines.” James Miller added. The guards looked at the ID then looked at the man.

  “Ok sure whatever. Just make it quick,” Tom’s guard said, letting the engineer through. The engineer observed all the other guards present in the hanger. They seemed distracted. Three cars pulled into the hanger.

  “It has to be the target,” James Miller thought. The engineer opened one of the engine compartments then tampered with some wires. He closed it briskly and walked away from the hanger like nothing happened. He smiled as he walked away with the thought of his financial reward. The Cartels paid him to destroy the Plane’s engines. Just then, a man dressed like a pilot brushed passed him, rolling a large
brown leather box.

  Roberto Puccini rolled a brown leather box containing three dead bodies from the morgue. His face was covered by his pilot hat. Everything was going according to plan.

  “It’s all for a higher cause,” he thought as he walked passed the guards.

  “How you doing, captain? Make it quick! The boss has to leave now!” one of the guards said to Roberto Puccini, completely ignorant about who the captain really was.

  Roberto pushed the leather box into luggage compartment of the plane. Roberto walked up the plane stairs with his head down, trying to avoid stares from Dean and Tom—the only two people who could possibly identify him. The guards frisked him for weapons, but rushed through it because Tom had a time deadline to be in Italy.

  “How many people are on the flight manifest?” Roberto Puccini asked his co-pilot as he walked into the cockpit.

  “Seven people, Captain,” the co-pilot replied.

  “That’s good,” Roberto Puccini replied with a smile.

  “Are you new?” the co-pilot asked.

  “No, I’m not. Been flying the family for years, just on a different plane,” Roberto Puccini replied as he prepared to take-off.

  Don Olivetti’s mind was preoccupied with Tom’s safety. His mother’s death was the least of his worries. The brothers were on one plane. It was safer to travel in groups. Other members of the family were on other planes, heading to the same destination. Walter sat behind the plane, worried about his son and Catherine. He had just confirmed that his wife, Beatrice and his children were on another plane, safely in the air. Don Cruccifixo’s death was a message from the Sanchez family.

  Tom was rushed into the plane. He hesitated to sit, but tried to avoid struggling with his bodyguards. He sat down on a chair in his private jet as four of his guards sat around him. They fastened their seatbelt as fast as possible. Dean walked towards the plane’s door.

  “Where are you going?” Tom asked.

  “My job is to make sure you are on the plane safely. I have other business to take care of,” Dean replied. Tom nodded in approval.

  “Till we meet again, Tom,” Dean said with a smile. He had watched Tom grow from childhood and he hoped he wouldn’t see Tom die.

  “Please, one last thing. Make sure Nina is safe,” Tom said. He trusted Dean to protect her. Dean nodded in approval as he walked out of the plane. Three seconds later, the door to the plane was shot. It was time for take-off.

  “Get Miss Catherine downstairs now,” Dean said to Catherine’s bodyguards as he drove through traffic. He had just completed the first part of his orders. Tom was safe. It was time to make sure Catherine Cruccifixo was safe too. He had to lie to Tom, earlier. Catherine wasn’t on route. Walter had given him specific instructions on how to protect Catherine. Minutes later, he was parked in front of Trump towers where Catherine was. As quickly as possible, Catherine was shoved into Dean’s car.

  “Buckle up, miss!” Dean ordered.

  “What’s going on?” Catherine asked confused and scared.

  “We are taking you to a safe house,” Dean replied as he sped off. Catherine’s guards drove in another car, behind them.

  “Wait! What?” Catherine asked, still confused. Dean didn’t reply.

  “Is my father safe? Tom? Walter?” Catherine asked, almost in tears. Dean looked through the rear view mirror. He had to lie again, for the sake of peace.

  “Yes, they’re all safe,” Dean lied as he drove to Nina Owen’s house. Everyone affiliated with Tom had to be safe. Donna and the baby weren’t in danger because no one knew.

  Dean dialed a number. “Bring the girl out, now!” Dean said to the guards appointed to watch over Nina then hung up. Catherine was in full blown panic mode.

  Minutes later, Dean arrived at Nina’s house. Nina briskly walked into the car. Nina gazed at Catherine. She and Tom had an uncanny resemblance.

  “You’re Tom’s girlfriend?” Catherine asked as she forced a smile. Dean drove off, while Nina’s guards drove in front of them.

  “Uhm…friend,” Nina replied Catherine. Catherine nodded. She observed Nina’s beauty. It reminded her of her youth.

  “I take it, we are going to Miami?” Nina asked.

  “No. Canada!” Dean replied.

  Don Sanchez stood in his living room, smiling like a kid opening his first Christmas gift. Don Cruccifixo was dead and Cecilia Olivetti was dead. His plan was in progress. “Sir, if everything goes according to plan, the most important Olivetti will fall from the sky,” a Cartel member said. Don Sanchez nodded in response. “I can’t wait to wipe out these Italians,” he thought to himself.

  Tom’s plane was in the air. The sound of the engine was the only thing that could be heard. The air hostess walked towards him. She had long brunette hair and was wearing an overly tight skirt with a skimpy blouse that revealed a lot of cleavage. “What will you like to drink, sir?” the air hostess asked.

  “Something strong,” Tom replied, absent minded. She smiled. “Anything…else…I can do for you?” She flirted. Tom shook his head. He was worried about his family and Nina. She frowned then walked away. She ignored Tom’s bodyguards.

  Tom couldn’t wait to taste Don Sanchez’s blood. If he was the family patriarch, he’d stay and fight, even though there’d be causalities. He was an Olivetti. His family stood for justice and courage. Yet, they were running like scared chickens about to be slaughtered. He thought about the five minute conversation he had with Don Cruccifixo. The air hostess brought Tom a glass of rum.

  “This should be strong enough, sir,” the hostess said. Tom’s guards stared at the hostess as she walked away. Her body was an eye magnet. The guards stared at her long legs and round bottom,as she walked away.

  42

  Roberto Puccini was taking a nap in the cockpit. The plane was on auto pilot. The co-pilot monitored the weather. They were already four hours away from their destination, but it seemed like forever. The air hostess walked into the cockpit.

  “Will you guys like anything to eat or drink?” she asked seductively. Roberto Puccini woke up. He yawned “How long do we have left?” he asked.

  “About two hours,” the co-pilot replied.

  “Why don’t you take a break?” Roberto replied, signaling to the co-pilot to leave the cockpit. The co-pilot glanced at Roberto then glanced at the seductive air hostess. She was smiling flirtatiously at Roberto Puccini.

  “Jeez, make it quick! Don’t stain the seats,” the co-pilot joked as he left the cockpit. They chuckled. The hostess waited for a couple of seconds then locked the door.

  “So you’ve come to serve me, huh?” Roberto smiled. “Yes, Captain. What will you like to have?” She said as she removed her top slowly. Roberto chuckled.

  “Come here you!”

  “Relax, Captain,” she said as she removed her underwear. They had been in a relationship for years.

  “Vicki,” Roberto said as she sat on his lap. “I’ve missed you, Rob!” She said as she unzipped his zipper. He slowly removed her bra. Her breasts popped out.

  “Hmm you’re ready,” she said as she noticed something hard on her thighs. She moaned. Roberto kissed her breasts as he rocked her slowly. He needed her. He needed her to ease his mind from what he was about to do. The man he was working for tolerated no mistakes.

  Roberto’s mind was in two places; pleasing Vicki and completing his mission—Tom Olivetti. He was wearing a special military GPS—a watch that showed precise longitude and latitude coordinates. Roberto could feel how wet Vicki was. She was horny—like she had been deprived for years. They met at a hotel earlier to plan their mission to protect their boss’s investment.

  “Oh yes, Roberto,” She moaned as she plunged her lips into his. Roberto slowly moved his pelvis against hers. The cockpit was small and uncomfortable, but they made it work. She moaned as Roberto increased the speed of his pelvic movement. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, they both groaned in relief as Roberto finished his manly duties inside her.
She always enjoyed the warmth.

  “That was awesome!” she said as she panted heavily. “You just keep getting better and better,” She added as they both chuckled.

  “Babe, you’re all a man could ask for,” Roberto Puccini replied as they both laughed. Vicki and Roberto had been through a lot together. He remembered how they first met. Rob was a pilot in the Air Force while Vicki was a young nurse.

  He rose to Captain of the United States Air Force with the help of a benefactor. His plane was shot down by the enemy and Vicki was the nurse who never gave up on him. Years later, Roberto Puccini quit the Air Force to use his military training for a better cause.

  He became the private pilot and hitman of a mob boss. Vicki also had formal military training as an Air Force nurse and helped Roberto Puccini in most of his assassination plots.

  “This is our last job. After this, it’s all over right?” Vicki asked.

  “Yes my love! Last job,” Roberto Puccini replied. Vicki smiled. She kissed his forehead. There was a loud knock on the cockpit door.

  “Is it safe to come in?” the co-pilot asked. “Hold on,” Roberto said as Vicki quickly put on her clothes. She wore her bra, put on her top, buttoned it quickly and adjusted her skirt as she slipped her panties back on.

  “Those guys keep staring at my ass anytime I pass by,” She joked as she kissed Roberto on his forehead again.

  “It’s hard not to stare,” Roberto laughed as he adjusted his zipper. He slapped her ass. She smiled.

  “Are you guys done?” the co-pilot outside the cockpit yelled impatiently.

  “Get everything ready. It’ll soon be time,” Roberto said as she walked out. The co-pilot gazed at her as she walked away.

  “Damn you guys must have had a hell of a time,” the co-pilot said with humor in his tone.