In memory of my grandmother,
Bridget Moniola Bashorun
Copyright © 2013 by Tamilore Odimayo
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner whatsoever without prior consent of the publisher/author.
This book is a work of fiction. The storyline, characters, dialogue and names used are based plainly on the author’s imagination and not real events. Any similarity to actual events is simply coincidental or used for fictitious purposes.
Visit our Website www.TamiloreOdimayo.com
First Edition: May 2014
Second Edition: October 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1537620060
ISBN-10: 1537620061
Printed in the United States of America
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“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” Ephesians 6:12
King James Version (KJV)
PROLOGUE
FBI Agent Weavergrabbed a knife from the knife stand on his kitchen table. His one bedroom apartment was fairly dark and had Case notes with pictures of criminals and case evidences scattered all over. His home was his work place and his work place was his home. He had been engulfed in his investigation of the Olivetti crime syndicates for quite a while. He had to prove to the FBI director that he was worthy of a promotion. However, it wasn’t the promotion that interested him. Tracking down the Olivettis and every other crime family involved with them became an obsession – an unhealthy one for that matter.
His social life had declined, his girlfriend had broken up with him and he was beginning to rely on certain prescription drugs to stay awake for absurd amount of hours. He was a mad man on a mission. The mission seemed trivial to his colleagues whom were more concerned about foreign terrorists.
There was an unexplainable phenomenon that bothered him; no member of the Olivetti family or anyone affiliated with them had ever spent a night in prison. Were law enforcement agents terrified of them or does the Olivetti family have them in their pockets? No reasonable answers ensued. There were no unusual bank account mishaps from anyone in the FBI or NYPD. The Olivetti family had no biological or familial link to anyone that had been working on the case since the sixties. So why haven’t there been any incarcerations despite all obvious criminal activities perpetuated by the family?
He opened the oven and brought out a pan of grilled chicken. He slammed it on the table and began to slice the chicken into pieces. Just then, his attention shifted to the television screen hanging on his kitchen wall. He froze. He dropped his knife and grabbed the remote to increase the television’s volume.
“…An American private jet crashed north of Palagonia, Italy. The FAA is yet to provide information of what happened and who died. However, it is said that the plane is owned by billionaire investment guru Daniel Olivetti. Confirmation has been made that Daniel Olivetti wasn’t on that plane. However, according to the flight manifest, his nephew, Tom Olivetti, might have been on the plane along with several others, at the time of the crash. Sources are yet to be confirmed, however, Italian authorities state that there were no survivors as all counted bodies on the flight manifest have been recovered. This is Rachel Morgan reporting for WNN”
Thoughts raced through his mind. Agent Weaver was dumbfounded. The thought of Tom Olivetti’s death only portrayed layers and layers of disaster. Chaos was inevitable. Just then, his phone rang. Without hesitation, he picked up his cell phone.
“Yes! I heard! I’ll be at the office in ten minutes,” Agent Weaver said to the voice on the phone without taking his eyes off the Television.
“The war had only just begun,”
1
It had been a month since the death of Tom Olivetti. The entire Olivetti family was at Walter Olivetti’s mansion for Tom’s funeral. It was bright out and the gardens around the compound blossomed beautifully. Cars filled up the entire compound.
Highly trained guards surrounded the premises as friends of the deceased came to the funeral.
Since Stanley Olivetti’s funeral ended in bloodshed, it was wiser to have Tom’s funeral within the family premises, for safety reasons. Friends of Tom couldn’t understand why the family needed that many guards. However, it began to make sense when the news media portrayed their conspiracy theories.
The past month had been hell. News reporters were camped in front of every Olivetti mansion, waiting for News worthy story. The news media had focused completely on the Olivetti family, updating conspiracies as to why members of the Olivetti family had suddenly begun to drop dead simultaneously; first it was Stanley Olivetti who died with two bullets in the head, then it was Tom’s grandmother who died of ‘natural causes’, and now Tom Olivetti who died in a rather suspicious plane crash. Three members of a family dying within a year couldn’t be a mere coincidence.
Don Daniel Olivetti hated the attention they were getting from the media, but he knew that the Mexican Cartels would never strike in the presence of the FBI and the news media. It was the safest option, at least, until the media loses interest in their story.
The family was relieved that the FAA and Italian authorities had concluded their plane crash investigation. The conclusion of their investigation; Engine malfunction and Pilot’s Negligence. It took a lot of legal struggle to get Tom’s body returned to New York in the state it was in. Multiple autopsies had to be performed by the Italian Coroners. Afterwards, the FAA had to confirm that the bodies belonged to the names on the manifest. Though, the bodies were badly burned beyond recognition, it was confirmed that the body belonged to Tom, through blood and DNA analysis.
Nina Owen arrived at the mansion wearing a simple black dress with shades that covered her swollen eyes. She tried her best to hold back her tears as she walked to the area of the compound where the funeral was. Lots of people – business colleagues, friends, CEOs, Tom’s teachers and friends, all gathered there. It was surprising how large the compound was.
Nina walked closer to Tom’s casket. She was trembling. Her knees were weak. Her emotions were overwhelming. The thought of Tom’s burnt body lying in a casket caused her more grief. She tried not to imagine how much Tom suffered before he died. Memories of their last conversation flooded her mind more and more as she began to feel Tom’s overwhelming energy. She was skeptical about his death. It didn’t feel right. Everything happened too quickly. Sadly, all evidence pointed out that he was dead.
Nina Owen finally got to where everyone gathered. She stood behind everyone, trying her best not to see the casket. She could hear some of Tom’s family members crying and sobbing. The atmosphere was tense and full of grief. She glanced across. She noticed Tom’s little sister, Sara, crying. She realized she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her face suddenly drowned in tears.
“We are gathered here today to mourn the death of Tom Olivetti: beloved grandson, nephew, son, brother and father,” the priest began. Just then, Catherine Cruccifixo, Tom’s biological mother, glanced at Nina, walked towards her, held Nina’s hand then walked her to the front of crowd where all the important family members were.
Catherine, Nina and Dean were in Canada when they heard about the news of Tom’s death. They were in an undisclosed Olivetti safe house in Canada. Nina and Catherine had gone through the pain and horrors of watching the plane crash site on television over and over again. Dean, Tom’s most trusted bodyguard was crushed and couldn’t contain the guilt of leaving Tom alone on that plane. His guilt prevented him from attending Tom’s funeral.
Nina struggled to ack
nowledge the presence of other family members as she was brought right to the front of Tom’s family. Tom’s casket became more visible as she walked closer. A closed casket – it was inhumane to display Tom’s body in its malignant state.
She glanced at Tom’s father, Walter, who stood there without an ounce of emotion. He was in an intense state of sorrow and defeat.
“The Sanchez family has won – the ultimate checkmate to this mob war – my only son,” he thought to himself.
Nina could see Beatrice Olivetti, the woman Tom grew up calling ‘mother’ – she cried deeply whilst glancing negatively at Catherine Cruccifixo. Beatrice blamed Catherine for Tom’s death.
“He wouldn’t have died if Dean was on that plane to protect Tom. Instead, Dean was protecting Catherine,” she thought to herself.
Just then, Nina glanced at Donna and Tom’s child. Part of her was jealous and the other part remembered that Tom’s blood was flowing through the veins of the child. She couldn’t help, but love him.
The Casket was slowly lowered to the ground. The feeling of emptiness began to emerge. Time froze. Her stomach tightened and ached as she watched the gold colored casket descend lower and lower – into the earth. Tom was about to be gone forever.
“Will the family of Tom Olivetti care to pour the sand?” the priest asked.
Nina realized she had missed the entire eulogy because she was busy grieving and glancing at everyone who mourned Tom’s death. Walter Olivetti walked forward to the dug grave. He was wearing a black Italian suit, white shirt and black tie. His face had no emotional expression. His eyes were bland and zombie like. His eye bags were as big as a duffel bag.
He grabbed the shovel, dug out some sand from the soil and tossed it into the dug grave where the casket was. He gazed at his brother, Don Daniel Olivetti with blame and anger in his eyes then walked back into his house without waiting for anyone else.
Catherine attempted to follow, but hesitated after she glanced at Beatrice, Walter’s wife. Beatrice hated her and wasn’t afraid to show it. Time and time again, Catherine had tried to reason with Beatrice, but the invisible fence Beatrice created around herself was higher than the wall of China. Catherine was her husband’s long lost lover and Tom’s biological mother – a double threat to the years of deceit she had faced.
Other members of the Olivetti family took turns tossing some sand into the casket. Franceska, Tom’s sister, broke down in tears after she tossed some sand into Tom’s grave. Of all the people who mourned, she seemed to mourn the most. Beatrice rushed to console her daughter. Catherine and Nina walked side by side to toss some sand into Tom’s grave together. All eyes were on them. They were two flawless beauties and all eyes were on them.
Servers in white shirts and black trousers, paced around the room with trays of wine like confused cockroaches. There was a high demand for wine. Groups of different people at every corner of the room were engaged in petty chatter. Beatrice Olivetti halfheartedly organized the cocktail party for Tom’s funeral. She struggled to gain her composure as guests of the funeral verbalized their condolences.
Walter wasn’t a fan of funerals – especially the funeral of his only son. He was still in denial. How could Tom die so soon? He had ordered verification of the identity of Tom’s corpse and it all matched DNA wise. Still, he refused to believe his son was dead. He refused to believe his son’s corpse was now below the earth’s surface.
“I’m very sorry for what happened. Tommy was a good boy,” Tom’s teacher said to Walter and Beatrice.
“Thank you,” Beatrice replied. Walter returned the gesture with a fake smile. Beatrice noticed it again.
“Walter I know this is hard, but you have to be strong,” Beatrice whispered into Walters ears.
He scoffed then walked away. He grabbed two wine glasses from one of the servers and walked into his Study. Don Olivetti noticed and followed him. The other brothers remained where they were, scared of Walter’s explosive reaction.
“Walt! Walt! Hold up,” Don Olivetti said, holding the door before Walter could slam it on his face. Walter ignored his brother. He gulped the two glasses of wine simultaneously.
Don Olivetti threaded with care. His brother was in a vulnerable state and his presence was likely to make things worse.
“Look Walt. I know how you feel,” Don Olivetti said with as much sympathy as possible. Walter ignored his brother. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass from his mini bar.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Don Olivetti asked.
“You’re not the only one who is hurting here!” Don Olivetti added. Walter poured a glass of scotch for himself as he sank into his chair. He glanced at his brother then gazed at the sweet glass of scotch in his hand. He was furious and agitated, but tried to remain composed.
Don Olivetti noticed.
“You have to be strong Walt!” Don Olivetti said.
“Strong?” Walter laughed hysterically as he gulped his glass of scotch. He poured himself another glass of scotch and leaned towards his brother.
“Have you ever lost a son before?” Walter asked. Don Olivetti didn’t respond.
“I didn’t think so. So if you’re going to lecture me about being strong, I think you should just get the hell out of here!” Walter replied with great disdain.
Don Olivetti stood still. He was trying to remain patient with his brother’s disrespect. Walter had never disrespected him like that before, especially since he became the family patriarch. The room was silent for a while. The atmosphere was intense. Hatred, anger and blame filled the air.
“I know you blame me for everything, but we can fix this,” Don Olivetti finally replied to break the silence.
Walter scoffed. “Fix? Nothing we do will bring Tommy back! You don’t get it! This all started with you trying to take control over everyone’s life! You tried to remain the boss of bosses. We didn’t want violence! We didn’t want blood! You did and now my son paid the price,” Walter replied.
Don Olivetti sat down on one of the couches and crossed his legs. He knew Walter wasn’t finished with him.
“You ruined our lives since you took over!” Walter yelled in anger. He stood up and paced around the room.
“You let Tom get involved in the old family business, you lied about little Pablo, you tricked Catherine and I into believing our son was dead – or kidnapped. Tom grew up never knowing his real mother!” Walter added vehemently. He paced around the room continuously then finally moved to a corner of the room and leaned on the wall with his hand on his head.
“My only son,” he said to himself as tears rolled down his cheeks. It was the first time he had cried since he heard about Tom’s death. The cold realization that his son was truly dead engulfed him. He was weak and angry at the same time. Regrets began to flow through his mind as thoughts of Tom’s upbringing came up. He wished he made sure his entire family was safe on the plane he boarded. He would have gladly sacrificed his life for Tom. He wished his family didn’t have to grow up with so much violence and unpredictability.
Don Olivetti observed his brother break down in tears. He remained on the couch reluctantly. He couldn’t imagine the pain Walter was going through. Tom was as much of a son to him as his son. As a matter fact, Tom was priority in his Will of testament. His intention for Tom was sole dominance of most of his important assets. Tom was supposed to be the next Don – the next family Patriarch – the one who would wear the patriarchal ring of his father, Don Frederick Olivetti.
“That boy showed so much potential,” he thought to himself. Walter cried in the background as Don Olivetti observed.
“Walt! We know who did it,” Don Olivetti said to break off the sorrowful atmosphere. Walter paused. He faced his brother.
“I was able to get to our inside source from the Feds. Camera footages show a second engineer tampering with the plane’s engines,” Don Olivetti added.
“I know you don’t like engaging in the family’s dirty business, so I’ll take
the liberty of handling the engineer myself,” Don Olivetti added again.
Walter walked towards his brother.
“Where is he? – the engineer,” Walter asked calmly.
“He is in one of our warehouses as we speak,” Don Olivetti replied.
“Which one?” Walter asked with a sadistic expression.
“Dad’s first property,” Don Olivetti replied. Walter walked out of the room calmly. Don Olivetti chased after Walter, calmly.
“Where are you going?” Don Olivetti asked.
“To kill that son of a bitch myself!” Walter replied.
Nina Owen stood by Tom’s grave, alone by herself, in the vast Olivetti garden. The sun was setting more steadily and nighttime was emerging. It was a beautiful and emotional sight to see – One she will remember for the rest of her life. It felt like nature was giving a final salute to Tom. “Very well deserved,” she thought.
She stared at Tom’s tomb stone blankly, thinking about all the things they could have done. They never had a first date. The idiosyncrasies of high school drama and chaos had prevented them from being fully together. The malicious involvement of Tom and the Cartel had torn them apart. She remembered their first kiss as she brushed her fingers on her lips. She remembered his hands around her waist. She remembered his scent, his voice and his strong eyes.
“You know Tom loved me right?” Donna said, walking closer to Nina with her baby in her hand. Nina ignored her. Donna shrugged jealousy as she observed Nina’s perfect countenance.
“He told me things he would never tell anyone,” Donna added.
“That’s why he was comfortable with having a child with me,” Donna added again, trying to push Nina to say something. Nina sighed.
“I’m not here to argue,” Nina replied. Donna scoffed. She was disgusted by Nina’s courteous response. There was a long silence. Both stared blankly at the tomb stone.
Olivetti: Illumination Page 1