by Lee Savino
The agent shifted in his suit and straightened his tie. “Ma’am, we’re going to do everything in our power to keep your involvement from his knowledge. Our concern is for your safety.” He rose and waited until she slid out of the booth after him. “This way.”
Keeping her head down and hoping no black cars were sneaking around corners, Cora followed him out of the café. The agent led her into the street, then down an alley way, heading straight towards a white van. When he reached it, the side door slid open. With some hesitation, Cora stepped into the van.
Inside was a dark cave of surveillance equipment. Stooping until offered a corner seat at a little table, Cora absorbed the scene slowly. Bulky black monitors lined the van’s walls; further down were screens a second agent was watching intently.
“This is my partner,” the first one introduced the man, but he barely took his eyes from the screen. Seated so far away, Cora couldn’t see more than dim grey shapes flickering on the boxy eye. She wondered if her image ever had walked across the screen, on the way to a shop or home.
“We’ve been following Mr. Ubeli’s operation for some time. His presence has been linked to some murders in the Sticks.”
Cora could barely comprehend what the agent was telling her. The agent interpreted her stare as confusion about something else, “The Sticks are the south sections of the city. A really rough area.”
“Very hot with crime,” the second agent finally swiveled his chair and took his gaze away from the computer screen. He blinked at Cora, as if surprised to see her, even though she’d just been introduced to him. “Very hot,” he repeated, looking her over. Cora crossed her arms lightly in front of her, looking away.
The first agent noticed her discomfort. “Forgive my partner,” he said smoothly, “He doesn’t get out of this van very often.”
“You’ve been…doing surveillance a long time?” Cora asked.
“We’ve been investigating activities in this area for a long time now,” The first agent said.
“Your boyfriend has been a long time player in the city’s underworld,” said the second.
Disbelief played across Cora’s face, though in the back of her mind a voice whispered, You knew this, you always wondered… “Just what has he done?” she appealed.
The second agent snorted, “Just about anything. Smuggling in illegals—weapons and goods, drug rings, heists small and large, money laundring, petty theft.”
“We can’t prove he’s directly involved, yet,” the first said cautiously. “We’re building a case.”
“But we’re pretty sure he’s had his fingers in all of this and more. Violence, murder, prostitution. He’s the kingpin. He’s the boss.”
“I…I can’t believe…” Cora said.
“We’re not asking you to believe us, ma’am. We just want you to let us know if you hear or sense anything suspicious,” The first agent had a look of grave concern and the second one mirrored it. “To be honest, we’re concerned for your safety as well. When there’s crime involved, the people around tend to get hurt. Even if they aren’t aware of what’s going on around them.” The agent glanced at his partner and said, as if to emphasize his point, “She called Santonio ‘Papa Santa.’”
The second agent looked shocked. “Sell-em-by-Santonio? The man who owns half the red light district?” He leaned towards Cora as if passing secrets, “They call him that because some of his workers have ended up in snuff films. Like they have a sell by date. He likes them young.”
Cora looked from one agent to the other, unsure if the nightmare was real.
“I bet he told you himself to call him ‘Papa Santa.’ You’re just his type…” the second agent remarked.
Blood flooded Cora’s cheeks, and the first agent cleared his throat.
“So you see, you could be in considerable danger,” the first took the role of counselor. “Any information you give us on these people will save a lot of lives.”
“I don’t know…” Cora murmured. She felt nauseous, trapped in a cave. “I don’t know what I can do.”
“Recent surveillance has uncovered a deal between Marcus Ubeli, your boyfriend, and Mr. Santonio. Evidence suggest some arrangements were made before and during the after-party of a designer’s debut.”
It took Cora a moment to understand this, “What…the photo shoot?”
“That’s right,” one agent held her eyes while the other shuffled through a file. A picture was produced—Marcus with Santonio, both holding glasses of champagne. “We think that the two men met and agreed on date and price. Their excuse to come together so publicly was their mutual friend.” The agent snapped a second photograph towards Cora: it pictured her as the Queen of the Dead, on the arm of the designer, Armand. The shot was grey and blurry. “Santonio often befriends young designers. We think he hires new models for photo shoots of his own.”
Again, the nausea clenched her stomach. Cora didn’t flinch. I can do this. I can play the game. Only it wasn’t a game, anymore.
Agent #1: “Now there are shipments arriving at your boyfriend’s warehouses.”
“Shipments of what?” Cora asked.
Agent #1: “We’re not sure yet.”
“So, it could be anything…” Cora wanted to reason out of their bleak world.
Agent #2 snorted. “Anything. As long as it’s Underworld business.” His eyes went to the screen and stayed there, even when Cora stared at him.
Agent #1 cleared his throat softly. He was a thin man, wearing a suit and tie. He looked…bland, plain. Utterly nondescript. Cora realized she could have seen him on the street a thousand times, and never remembered. But she had seen the white van outside the cafe that day she went walking. If she had been approached that day and asked about Marcus, she would have spilled everything suspicious: the cars that followed her, the private club where Marcus spent days “doing business”, the friends of his who studied the world shrewdly behind ranks and ranks of bodyguards. Dating Marcus Ubeli, Cora felt like an ocean diver plunged into new depths, able only to stare silently at a strange new world.
A month ago, she would have told them all of this. She wouldn’t have been able to help it. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Swallowing hard, she asked, “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“We need to establish who Marcus’ business partners are, and what the nature of the transaction was. Any info would be useful.”
“Okay.”
Sensing her uncertainty, Agent #2 pitched in, “Could you ask him about his designer friend? Maybe if he had any business during the party?”
Cora recoiled instantly, “Marcus doesn’t like me asking about business.”
“Did you ever wonder why?”
There was a long pause, during which Cora twisted and twisted the ring on her finger. She was unaware she was doing it, but both men noticed and exchanged glances filled with quiet victory.
“Miss Cora,” Agent #1 said soberly, “do you know what men on the street call your boyfriend?”
Mute, she shook her head.
Agent #2: “Lord of the Underworld.”
“What?” Cora whispered.
“We’ve had him under surveillance for years. Crime in this city used to be controlled by three families. The first moved. Now it’s all Ubeli. And while your Marcus isn’t the head of the family, we suspect he’s at the bottom of every deal the family does.”
The second agent tapped his head. “Business sense. Of all his cousins, Marcus has the most…” He trailed off when the first agent shot him a warning glance. “I’m just saying,” the second agent mumbled, swiveling around in his chair to face the computer screen again, “In all these years of survelliance, not once has the Lord of the Underworld lost a deal. Marcus Ubeli always gets what he wants.”
“This all is too much,” Cora blurted. Her eyes darted around the tight space of the van, looking for escape. “Survelliance and crime…I’m just someone he’s dating. I’m not involved in any of this.”
“
You were involved as soon as Marcus saw you, and decided to go after you,” the first agent said quietly, looking at her ring. Cora stared at the red gem and shining noose around her third finger.
“It doesn’t make sense…” she protested, even as her thoughts traced the path from the thug in the bar, the drug slipped into her drink, the alley way and steps leading down…her aunt scared off, and finally, a job, apartment and relationship with no escape. Marcus Ubeli always gets what he wants.
“Lord of the Underworld,” the second agent was tapping on his computer keyboard.
Cora roused herself from grim thoughts. “But, why all that trouble? What would he want with me?”
The agents exchanged glances, but didn’t answer.
“Cora,” one finally said. “We can help you escape. Your aunt is waiting; she’s safe. You can be, too. Believe us, you’ll need our help to get out. You can’t get away from Ubeli alone.”
Cold at the core, Cora remembered her long, fruitless walk.
“We’re willing to give you a way out,” the first agent spelled out carefully, “in exchange for information. Just a few private sessions of Marcus Ubeli can be very instructive.” Focusing a direct stare into her eyes, the man spoke in slow staccato. “Are you willing to help us?”
“Okay,” Cora said at last, “I’ll do what I can.”
“Excellent.” The van became filled with activity. The first agent took down equipment from the wall; the other swiveled to his computer and typed furiously.
“We’ll need to act fast,” the first said.
“Roger that,” said the second. “Watchman number one is on his way back for her. The bald guy. Always in suits. He drives you everywhere,” Agent #2 added Sharo’s description to clarify for Cora. “We call him Watchman. And we always watch him.” He guffawed like it was a great joke.
“He’s Ubeli’s right hand man. The most trusted that we can tell. Every time there’s a sensitive job, you’ll find Watchman. Lately he’s been paying a lot of attention to you.” Agent #2 gave Cora a weighing look of his own. In her seat, Cora shifted and tightened her arms around her body. Closing her eyes, she hummed until everything went away—the agent’s voices fading into dull, electronic bleeps, one with their equipment. Marcus’ face rose up before her, handsome and shadowed. He was telling her it would all be okay.
“We’re almost ready.” Agent #1 touched Cora’s arm, jolting her out of reverie. She stared up at the bland face, mediocre features swimming together to make the personality of a plain, white wall. In the van’s electronic glow, the agent’s face seemed more sinister than Marcus’, and just as shadowed. “Lift your shirt a little.”
Cora blinked in shock as Agent #2 approached with device in his hand.
“I’m not wearing that,” she said.
Agent #1 was still looking down at her, willing her to speak again.
Cora shook her head. “Marcus trusts me. I…I can’t do this to him.”
There was a pause, to test her. “Ma’am…” Agent #1 sighed, glancing back at his partner.
Agent #2, to Cora: “We’ll get him anyway.”
Agent #1: “You must know this is the right thing to do. We need your help.”
“I’ll help you anyway I can, but I’m not going to wear that—”
“A wiretap is our best chance,” Agent #1 said, as Agent #2 held up the thin, black thread.
“I said no.” Cora’s arms were crossed, but her lip trembled.
A pause. Then #1 turned to his partner. “Looks like we just lost our best in. We’ll have to get him another way.”
Agent #2 made a frustrated sound. “Listen. I’ve watched this guy go on the hook for things before with no way of knowing what we were going to ask him. He’s tight. He has a reason, every single time. Every single time.” In his passion, he slipped into street talk, and, switching the gadgets to one hand, slammed the side of the van.
“Cora,” said Agent #1, ignoring his partner’s fury and squatting down to meet her downcast eyes, “You can trust us with this. We’re not sending you into any danger, not more than you already are whether you believe it or not. We want to help you.”
“You said I could see my aunt,” Cora’s voice was small, a child’s.
“We will get you to her straight away. Just do this one thing for us. For her.”
“Just this once. Part of the deal,” Agent #2 echoed.
“What do I have to do?” Cora asked.
“Go to him to dinner, get him relaxed. Then ask him about the guy who disappeared.”
“I don’t know.” The green light of the equipment cast shadows under Cora’s eyes as she whispered, “What if I really do love him?”
Agent #1 straightened, looked at his partner, who shrugged back at him. The electronic wire was strung between his fingers like the single strand of a spider web.
“Then, kid, you have to make a choice. Do you want to help us or not?”
*
The penthouse was dark when Cora entered. Go to the place he lives, works. Look for anything telling—papers, accounts, files. Anything. She could still hear the van’s beeping equipment, the sharp rip of the tape in the agent’s hands.
Eyes wide in the dark, Cora ventured further. The long room was grand, even set in grey shadow. She went to the sunken area, passing the bar and Greek statue on the way. Through the blinds came the city light, a galaxy of buildings and streets.
Start in his penthouse. Wait until he’s gone, then search his rooms.
The other agent had said, Do you know when he’ll be gone next?
She had nodded. Tonight.
When the two men had smiled at each other, Cora knew her future was decided.
Marcus had given her a key to his penthouse months ago, telling her she had access to his private lair. She had never used it.
You must understand, the agents had said, lives hang in the balance. Cora you must help…
It all happened so fast. They spoke to her much longer, their words overlapping and weaving one giant net. Now, in the silence of the dark, the words were all she had. Looking around the dark, she knew she was alone.
“Cora.”
The voice sounded in the deep, chilling Cora. Marcus was not working late; she had mistimed. He’s here.
Slowly, her dark sight made the division between space and shadow. Marcus was sitting on the couch, his form a slighter shade of grey than the rest of the dark room. In one hand, he held a drink. Slowly, he stretched out the other to her. “Come.”
She went to him. Stepping into the sunken area, she nearly stumbled in the thick carpet. Words rose in her. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to betray you. I just wanted to help my aunt, I didn’t mean...
But she said nothing. Somehow, in the colorless space, silence could not be shaken. Cora stood before her boyfriend, not touching him. Her head was bowed.
After draining his drink and setting it aside, Marcus stood. Cora knew she might have one fragile moment to explain herself. Marcus, she begged silently. But outwardly she was mute.
With slow fingers, Marcus took the first button of her blouse. A slight pull, and then he was touching skin. The touch jolted her.
He knows, Cora thought wildly. Words spilled into her mouth again, and again the quiet took them. She could not see her lover’s face, but she hoped what she read in the planed shadows was not violence or vengeance.
Another pull, another button. Forcing a smile, Cora lifted her hands to Marcus’ own shirt collar; he blocked her hands, and undid another button. A few more and she would be bare before him.
I’m sorry, they came to me, I never meant…
Did he look at her? Cora could not tell. His fingers spoke slowly, finishing her shirt and letting it slide. The light shuttered over Cora’s belly and chest, crossed with shadows, the bars of Venetian blinds. Trapping her wrists, Marcus lifted both Cora’s arms over her head while his other hand trailed down to her hip. Shuddering, Cora bowed her head. The man released her hands; the maide
n left them crossed above her head. A twitch, and her skirt was undone, falling to the floor.
Marcus Ubeli sat back down on the couch, eyes on the innocent form bare before him. “Turn around.”
Cora swiveled and light lapped over her. When she was done, he beheld her trusting flesh. There was nothing taped to her skin—no wire, no device. Looking at him, questioning, she found only darkness. She took a step back.
Suddenly everything she’d held in bubbled out of her. “You knew they would approach me. You knew about the wire.”
Realization hit her and she nearly crumpled to the floor. “You’ve been one step ahead this entire time.”
He watched her carefully as her mind spun, piecing things together.
“There was a plan. You saw me in the bar.” She went slowly, thinking through events. “You liked me. You couldn’t get close. The lord of the Underworld can’t get close. You told your man to get me. He overstepped his bounds. So you punished him.”
“Sharo did.” Marcus’ voice rasped. He looked calm, if a little sad. A man waiting for a sentence to be pronounced.
“You moved my aunt.” It was almost a question.
“We had to vet her. Sharo made sure she wasn’t being paid off by any of my enemies, and then made sure she’s safe.”
“Your enemies want to get to you through other people.” She reasoned.
Pain flashed in his eyes. “It’s happened before.”
“So you had me followed. And then, when I figured that out, you arranged one final test. The wire. And I passed.” She touched her bare stomach, where there was no wire, no tape. She hadn’t betrayed him. In the end, she’d run from the agents who sought to save her, back to the man who would drag her life down into the underworld.
“I had to know. I had to know I could trust you completely.” He cleared his throat, and looked away. “I love you.”
“Marcus,” she started, and then shook her head. She didn’t even know what to think.
“You know everything now. Everything I’ve done has been to keep you safe.”
“You manipulated me.”