by Brent Coffey
Gabe had always known that he was adopted because Victor needed a son. He’d heard of another Family in New England (somewhere in Connecticut? Hartford maybe? he couldn’t remember for sure) without a male heir. Rumor had it that the Godfather’s consigliere killed him with a knife while the infertile bastard was sleeping, hoping to stage a coup and take over. It’d failed. The coup had split that Family into warring factions, and the civil war that erupted sank the entire operation. Gabe had never forgotten the story, which made Victor’s account believable.
He watched in disgust as Victor downed yet another glass of scotch and then another. Only thirty minutes had passed since he’d killed his father, but it felt like an eternity had gone by. He’d spent his childhood wondering, guessing who his father was, and no one had ever told him, until he’d shot the sack of shit.
“You need to call your security guy and let him know he’s about to hear more gunshots, but tell him he shouldn’t be worried,” Gabe said, hoping his anger wouldn’t be detected.
“More gunshots?” Victor inquired in a drunken slur.
“Yeah, the police will be here any minute now to investigate the sound of gunfire. We need to put some bullets in the wall behind you, to make it look like Unique shot at you first. That way it’ll look like you killed him in self-defense.”
Victor was too wasted to see the obvious setup.
“That’s what I like about you, son,” he said, downing his scotch and emphasizing the last word comically, “you’re always thinking.”
Victor picked up line 1 and ordered his secretary to put his security guy on the phone. He smiled, tapped his fingers, and drunkenly hummed an old American standard, as he waited for the guy to pick up. Surviving a near death experience was a hell of an adrenaline rush. Nerves and alcohol teamed up to put him in the most carefree mood he’d felt since his recent conflict with the Filippos had started.
“Hey, you’re going to hear more gunfire, but don’t be alarmed.”
When Victor hung up, Gabe pulled out his second Glock 18 and killed his other father.
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Gabe arrived at St. Knox’s Memorial Hospital near 6 in the evening. He guessed Victor and Unique’s bodies hadn’t been discovered yet, since they were both freshly dead. He parked in the back between two ambulances, near a loading dock. He went to the door labeled “Personnel Only” and buzzed the outside intercom to be let in. He knew he was on camera, and he expected someone to electronically unlock the door when he was recognized. He pulled on the door, and it was still locked. He buzzed the intercom again, waited a few seconds, and once more found the door locked.
What the hell is wrong? Why won’t they let me in?
He saw a nurse dressed in blue smocks approaching. He waited for her to punch her five digit password into the door’s keypad, heard the door click unlocked, and followed her in. He was glad she hadn’t asked why he wasn’t using the front entrance. Probably knows who I am and doesn’t want to piss me off.
He knew the hospital’s layout, and he had no problem finding the east wing and then the gastroenterology department. He recognized some of the hospital staff as he passed them. About a third of the staff was either on the Adelaides’ payroll or at least aware of the Adelaides’ presence in the hospital. The rest of the staff, including Dr. Cathy Sandefur, was clueless about the mob’s involvement. As he passed the staff who knew him, he noticed that none of them acknowledged him. He reasoned they simply didn’t want to be connected with him in front of their colleagues. Though the GI department was closed for the evening, he was able to make it into the department’s inner corridors, thanks to entering from the personnel entrance. At Dr. Sandefur’s door, he took out several envelopes containing the other half of the money needed for Bruce’s operation, and slid them under her door. He disliked leaving that much cash unguarded in an empty office, but he had no choice. He’d call Sandefur first thing in the morning to confirm that she had the rest of the money. He’d also call Bruce and tell him to have his surgery immediately. He hoped Bruce’s discovery of August’s safe arrival would buy him some credibility, enough credibility to convince Bruce that August really was in danger, and enough credibility to convince Bruce to have the surgery so he could adopt the kid and shield him from the Filippos.
It suddenly occurred to him that he was planning on living through the night. How else would he call Sandefur and Hudson tomorrow? He needed to live through the night, and that meant surviving his meeting with the Filippos, if he was still going to meet them. He considered his options. He no longer had a reason to bargain with them, because he didn’t care about Victor’s demands. But he couldn’t shake the fear that the Filippos had been watching him for the past several weeks, ever since they’d broken into his apartment. And that meant they’d likely seen August with him. He had to make them aware that August wasn’t his son, wasn’t an heir to the Adelaides’ operations, and certainly wasn’t a threat to them. He realized he had to meet with Don to let him know that the competition between the Families was over, but he also needed to survive the meeting long enough to make sure Bruce went under the knife. His earlier desire to end it all now completely left him. He now wanted to live.
It also occurred to him that there was a way to survive his meeting with the Filippos. He needed to return to Victor’s office one last time.
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Martha and Bruce sat next to each other on their couch, and August, sitting in a large chair across the room, told them about his recent life with Gabe: the zoo, the pizza, the arcade games. They listened in troubled silence, while August told them about his recent activities. They sensed that August remembered Gabe fondly, and that disturbed them. Bruce believed August suffered from a classic case of Stockholm Syndrome, a strange attachment that a hostage develops for his kidnapper.
“I’m not sure what happened to you,” Bruce said, “but I want you to know you’re safe now.”
“I was always safe.”
“You might think you were safe, but that doesn’t mean you were safe. Sometimes we think we’re safe when we aren’t safe at all.”
“I know I was safe.”
“How do you know you were safe?”
“Because Gabe liked me.”
Bruce didn’t have a response for that, and Martha was just as speechless.
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Gabe rushed back to Victor’s office, pleased to find that most of Victor’s staff had knocked off for the evening. He saw no signs of the security guy, and that was potentially good news, unless the security guy was out looking for him. Gabe unlocked Victor’s inner office and was pleased to see both bodies still lying where he’d gunned them down. The security guy would’ve removed the bodies if he’d known about them. He wondered if the police had been by to investigate the sound of gunfire, but there wasn’t any evidence of that. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and shot a couple of quick pictures of Victor’s corpse. That would be his leverage in tonight’s meeting.
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Donatello Filippo knew who Gabe was, but he didn’t know the other guy Victor was sending. Must be someone high ranking in the Adelaide clan, and he must be roughly as important as Victor’s son, if he’s negotiating terms.
Don sat alone, slowly chewing his dinner. His muscle, around 20 guys tonight, surrounded him from nearby tables. They spread themselves out to look inconspicuous. At precisely 7, a black Mercedes Benz GL passed the restaurant’s large front windows at a slow speed. Don knew the make and model belonged to Gabe, and he knew he was about to get company. He ordered a cup of coffee, and the waiter (also a goon) was quick to bring it to him. That was the signal the opposition had arrived. Craning their necks as discreetly as possible, Don’s guys saw the coffee on his table. The meeting had started.
Two minutes later, a small bell jingled, as Gabe walked in alone. He spo
tted Don and recognized him from photos the Adelaides’ reconnaissance team had snapped of him over the years. Don sported a poker face, deathly intense yet eerily calm. Gabe ignored the front waiter’s offer to seat him, walking directly to Don’s table and helping himself to a chair. Don noticed Gabe was alone, and this worried him. Where the hell is the other guy? There was no way Victor would send the Family heir to meet the enemy without any cover. Wild scenarios came to mind. Was the other guy hiding among the customers, pretending to have a casual dinner like his own muscle? Before speaking to Gabe, who was now sitting and facing him, he scanned the joint and saw about ten faces he didn’t know. Holy shit! What if all these no-names are Adelaide goons!
“How’s it going?” Gabe asked in a dry tone.
“Where’s your partner?”
“He couldn’t make it. Change of plans.”
Change of plans sounded ominous.
“Let’s negotiate,” Gabe started. “I want out, and that means I want you to leave me the hell alone. I also want you to leave everyone I know the hell alone.”
“You want out? I don’t follow.”
“I want to go legit. No more mob life, no more underworld, no more crime. I want out of it all. You can have all the Adelaides’ turf. The entire Boston market is now wholly yours.”
“You aren’t serious.”
“I’m very serious. The Adelaide empire is finished. As of tonight, yours is the only Family in town.”
“That wasn’t my understanding of this meeting. Your father said…”
“If you’re referring to Victor, he’s not my father, and you need to know he’s dead.”
Gabe pulled out his phone, thumbed through its features, and pulled up the photos of Victor’s bloody body.
“Here, take a gander at your new power,” Gabe said, handing the phone to Don.
“Who took this?”
“Who do you think took it? The picture’s on my phone. I took it after I killed him. You’re welcome.”
A waiter approached their table with a menu in hand for Gabe, and Gabe waved him away to keep him out of earshot.
“You killed your fa… Victor?”
“That’s right. I killed him a few hours ago. He’s dead, and I want out of this business. You know that without a son our enterprise is over, and I don’t want to be that son any longer. There’s no reason at this point for your goons to pursue me. There’s no reason for them to keep following me around, spying on me, or breaking into my apartment. I’m going legit, and I wanna be left alone. That’s the deal I’m offering you. The black market is yours, provided you leave me and everyone I know the hell alone.”
This was better than winning the lottery. Fortune wasn’t just smiling on Don: it was fucking drooling on him.
“Can I ask why you want out?”
“Personal reasons.”
“Fair enough. I’m not one to pick a fight when none is needed. You say you want out, and that’s fine by me. No hard feelings, right?”
“None whatsoever.”
As Gabe left the shortest round of negotiations to ever occur between two career criminals, Don quietly resolved to kill him, just to be on the safe side. He also decided to kill the D.A. Seeing Victor dead had emboldened his thirst for uncontested power. Gabe was wrong to think the Filippos wouldn’t come after Bruce because they feared the publicity. News of Victor’s death made Don feel ballsy enough to go after the D.A., and he also wanted the rumor to spread that he’d killed him. A gutsy move like that would cause the future D.A. to think twice about going after his Family, and it would have the added benefit of scaring the shit out of any underworld competitors who might spring up. Don briefly wondered what Victor’s brothers thought about Gabe forfeiting his position as Godfather, and he also wondered about the possibility of a civil war brewing among the remaining Adelaides. No matter, he reasoned. With both Victor and the son gone, guys have to be abandoning them by the dozens. In good humor, he finished his meal with a new zest for life and ordered two generous portions of desert.
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As Gabe drove back to St. Knox’s, he realized that Bruce’s surgery needed to occur even sooner than he’d previously planned. Contrary to what he’d told Don, he knew he couldn’t go legit. Victor wasn’t around any longer to work the legal system in his favor, and he was wanted for kidnapping. But he still wanted Don to think he was going legit, because that impression would disentangle August from the mob world, if they’d been spotted together. To his alarm, he sensed Don was too quick to agree to let him go legit. Don hadn’t asked for assurances, for collateral. He sensed Don might be out for blood, probably his blood, and that would be Don’s assurance. If Don was planning to kill him, he might kill August too.
Making matters worse, Gabe now had more enemies in the underworld besides Don. It would only be a matter of time before Victor’s body was found, and the security guy would accuse him of the murder, since he was the last person to see the Godfather alive. Ronald and Michael Adelaide would seek revenge with what little power they’d have left, as associates started looting the Family fortune at every opportunity. If his “uncles” killed him before Bruce’s surgery, the surgery might be canceled due to the hospital’s fear of getting involved in a mob war.
Gabe’s belief that August would be safe with the Hudsons was his only comfort. He still wasn’t worried about the Filippos going after Bruce (though he should’ve been), because he reasoned they had too much at stake to pick a fight with the law. Still driving to the hospital, his plan unfolded before his mind’s eye. Gotta position myself somewhere discreet, where Sandefur won’t suspect me tomorrow. Gotta convince her to get Bruce over pronto. Finally, gotta make sure she does the work. He remembered Victor had paid a nightshift janitor to break into offices and copy and steal medical records. He’d hook up with the janitor when he got to the hospital, because he’d have the key to Sandefur’s office.
When he arrived, he pulled his Benz into the hospital’s back lot to once more use the personnel entrance. He buzzed the intercom so that the security guard on duty would recognize him with the camera mounted above the door and let him in. The door didn’t click unlocked. He felt his fury rising. This is the second fucking time today the son of a bitch hasn’t let me in! The fuck is wrong with this shit head? If he hadn’t been intent on getting to Sandefur’s office, he would’ve had words with the guy, since he knew the guy was on the Family’s payroll. Once again, he had to wait for another nurse to let him in.
Inside, he passed many of the same familiar faces he’d seen earlier, when he’d slid the remaining funds for Bruce’s surgery underneath Sandefur’s door. He was surprised that the hospital staff on the Adelaides’ payroll still didn’t speak to him when he walked by. It was evening, and speaking to him now wouldn’t draw a lot of attention, as most of the place’s “clean” staffers had clocked out. He spied the janitor he needed, standing just down the hall from the nurses’ station on the ground floor. The guy was mopping slowly around a “Wet Floor Sign,” looking bored as hell. When he caught a glimpse of Gabe, a look of terror covered his face.
Strange. Luke never said the guy’s afraid of us. Luke said he’s always so eager to kiss the Family’s ass that he’s annoying. Gabe wasted no time:
“I need the keys to Dr. Cathy Sandefur’s office in the GI unit.”
“I, um, I don’t have my keys with me.”
Gabe grabbed the large, bulking key ring attached to one of the guy’s belt loops and jiggled several dozen keys, silently demanding an explanation for the apparent lie.
“Those ain’t the right ones. My master key is gone. I had to turn it over.”
“Who did you give it to?”
“I gave it to, um, the new administrator.”
Gabe could smell horseshit when near it. He opened the left side of his suit jacket just far enough to reveal one of his Glocks, so that only the janitor could see it. He demanded:
“Then I suggest
you stick your hand up the new administrator’s ass and pull the key back out.”
The janitor released his mop, letting it hit the floor, and tore the key ring from his belt, not caring that he’d ripped open a belt buckle. He skimmed a few keys in the center and picked one out, handing it to Gabe:
“Here’s the master key. It’ll let you in, no matter where you wanna go.”
Gabe snatched the key and walked away baffled and angry at the obvious insolence. First, the security guy. Now, this douchebag. Possibilities whirled through his brain. Had Victor been late paying them? Had he cut their salaries? He figured that even if these scenarios were true, the fear of God still would’ve prevented them from refusing to obey a mobster. They must be more afraid of something else. Or someone else.
Gabe passed patients, doctors, and a slew of nurses on his way to the GI unit. Everyone knew his face, but no one acknowledged it. Most assumed Gabe was still a free man. No one at St. Knox’s knew he’d kidnapped a kid and that there was a new warrant for his arrest. Dorsey kept August’s kidnapping out of the news, fearing for the safety of a hostage. If the scared patients in the hospital would’ve known that Gabe was again a wanted man, they would’ve eagerly called the cops to report his location. Their ignorance worked to his advantage. They didn’t know the cops had a new reason to lock him up.
Gabe turned on the lights in the empty GI department and used the janitor’s master key on Sandefur’s door. Inside, he was relieved to see the envelopes of cash on the floor, where he’d slid them under her office door. He stepped inside, closed and locked the office door, kept the lights off, set his cell’s alarm for 5 a.m., and settled comfortably into the office’s large plush chair, with his feet lazily propped up on the doctor’s desk.
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“Hello, this is Bruce.”
“Bruce, this is Dr. Cathy Sandefur. How are you?”
Bruce had expected to hear from the police with news about Gabe, or from Sara with an update about his home’s pending status for foster approval. He hadn’t expected to hear from Sandefur.