by Jack Porter
I was starting to get the impression that this Bianca Gambetti was a formidable opponent.
“Anything else?” I asked.
Sandy responded. “This matches what I’ve been able to find out. Before he died, Dario managed to turn several of the more senior figures within the Gambetti clan.” Sandy hesitated, looked at me, then decided to continue. “I’m not sure if he told you. Dario had more than his fair share of secrets. One of which was that he went both ways. Some of his conquests were men.”
I blinked at this, taken a little by surprise. At the same time, from my perspective, all it meant was that Dario’s opportunities for expanding my demonic network had not been limited by gender.
It meant he was even more valuable to my cause than I’d realized, and I felt my anger at the BDA become just a little bit stronger.
“As a result of Dario’s efforts,” Sandy continued, “combined with Sarah’s and a few others, we have a strong presence within the Syndicate. All of those I spoke to pretty much say the same thing. Bianca Gambetti is the toughest, most ruthless, powerful woman they have ever known. She will use whatever tools she has in her possession to achieve the outcome she wants, and those who cross her tend not to live to talk about it–unless she wants them to.” The blond shot a glance at Rachel. “The reason those attempts to take over her position have died down is twofold. First, she is effective. The Gambetti Syndicate has never been this powerful throughout its entire history. As an organization, it is going from strength to strength, and she is fairer than many of her predecessors as well. The Gambetti family as a whole is doing very, very well.”
She looked back toward me then, and her expression seemed to contain a certain revulsion. “The other reason why there are fewer attempts on her life and her position is that a decade ago, she implemented a new policy. She’d simply killed those who crossed her in the past, and left it at that. But about ten years ago, she changed her approach.” Sandy hesitated, running her tongue over her lips as if she was uncertain whether she should continue.
I waited, and eventually, Sandy said what she needed to say. “She had them tortured. Literally ripped limb from limb. There’s still one in the hospital, although by now he is quite mad. He is no more than a head and a torso, and even then, it took years for the surgeons to repair what she did to his skin. He has no eyelids, no nose, no earlobes, and doesn’t have much left of anything else. The stories are that she had each part of him torn off, or perhaps burned, peeled, dipped in acid, whatever she wanted.” The blond woman shuddered. “It could be just rumor, a scaremongering technique designed to keep people in line. But there are those who have been working for the Syndicate for decades. Some of them claimed to have seen it firsthand. The process she used wasn’t quick. It took months to get her victims to the point where she was happy. And during that time, she kept them alive by feeding them the bits of the flesh she took from their own bodies.”
I stared at Sandy, who had gone pale as she described what she had found out. And I had to admit it was an unsettling picture. Some of the things I’d done–well, I wasn’t in line for any humanitarian of the year awards. But this was another level entirely.
Bianca Gambetti was a dangerous woman.
Then again, I thought I understood her. She did what she needed to do. Not just to win the immediate battle, but to win all of them, all at once.
Perhaps what she had done to her victims was abhorrent. Perhaps it was unnecessarily cruel.
But perhaps in doing so, she had effectively saved the lives of those who might have hatched their own plot against her. Perhaps, instead of being a monster in human form, she was simply protecting herself and her family as best as she could. Even from themselves.
I drew a deep breath.
“What about her personal habits? Who is she? And,” I paused, then smiled. “How do we get to her?”
16
Bianca Gambetti lived alone with an uncertain number of Irish Wolfhound dogs in the penthouse suite of a building in downtown El Diablo.
Between the five of us, the girls and I could have taken Bianca’s entire organization down, just as we had done with Dario before her. And I fully intended to do that if it became necessary. But that approach would take time. Time to research the weak points, time to make sure our people were in place, and time to deliver our threats and violence in person.
And besides, Piper and I had done that to Dario’s businesses only in part because it had been a blast. Mostly, we’d done it because there hadn’t been an easier way.
If I’d been able to, I would have just dangled Dario over the edge of a building while hanging onto one of his ankles. Or perhaps used a version of Bianca’s technique, and shot him as many times as it took, in his various limbs, until he bowed to the inevitable.
Unfortunately, those options hadn’t been available for dealing with Dario. The amulet he had worn made sure of that.
But Bianca was different.
As the head of the Gambetti Crime Syndicate, she no doubt had access to some form of divine influence. There was a demon involved somewhere, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to learn that Bianca had it on a short leash.
But that didn’t mean she wore the same sort of amulet Dario did. It didn’t mean she had the same sort of protection.
And even if she did, that didn’t mean she was beyond my coercion.
Bianca Gambetti was many things, according to what Sandy and Rachel had been able to learn. But first and foremost, there was one undeniable truth.
While she was quite a bit older than the women I tended to sleep with, a woman was exactly what she was.
She had been married once, many decades earlier, and according to what Rachel had found out, she had lost that husband during the struggle for ascendancy within the Gambetti clan. Since then, she had taken sporadic lovers, most of them younger than her, good looking boy toys who served basically one purpose, and one purpose only.
I couldn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t be the next in that sequence. Especially since it had been a while since the last one.
All it would take was a single seduction, and Bianca would willingly hand over her empire to me.
I smiled to myself as I drove through EL Diablo in my Mustang, the quiet roar of the engine doing wonders for my self-image. The car was a true king of the streets, and I found just sitting in the driver’s seat to be a special feeling.
There was a rightness to it. A sense of belonging. If the world turned to Hell overnight, then I would still be driving this car, and it would still own the streets. Perhaps the tires would turn into flames, and the grill might take on a demonic appearance. But other than that, it would be largely unchanged.
It was a car fit for a Demon from Hell, and while an earlier version of me might have been intimidated to even go near it, now it fit me like it was designed to appeal to my most instinctual self.
I could have driven the Mustang all night, and never grown tired of the feeling. But all too soon, Bianca’s building, an old-style Gothic structure that seemed somehow apt in this demon, came into view. I pulled up into a space not in front of it, but in front of the next building along.
I got out of my car and surveyed my target. I knew from Rachel and Sandy’s research that while Bianca owned the building, it wasn’t exactly a Syndicate property. The lower floors housed offices for lawyers, accountants, web designers, and more. Above them were the private residences, ordinary people renting apartments, never realizing that they were there to provide a layer of insulation between Bianca and those who might set their sights her way. Up next was an entire floor dedicated to security, with only a private elevator going to Bianca’s floor.
Which effectively meant that I couldn’t reach Bianca Gambetti that way. Not unless I wanted to do so by force, and that wasn’t exactly my plan.
I could have perhaps set a meeting, or at least asked Sandy if she could figure out a way of doing so. But, really, I didn’t want to wait, and there was always
the chance Bianca would turn me down.
Of course, even if she decided to take the meeting, there was no guarantee it would be just me and her. More likely, there would be BDA Agents in tow as well.
So I had decided on a more direct approach. Something that Bianca wouldn’t be expecting, and which might just be interesting enough to attract her attention.
I intended to knock on the window and see if she would let me in.
Which meant that somehow, I had to ascend about thirty stories from the outside.
My first thought was to transform into my demon form and fly up to the top. But there was little chance that Bianca would open the window for a monstrous demon, so I would then have to transform back into myself. And as I had yet to find clothing capable of making the transformation with me, it wasn’t my favored option.
I didn’t want Bianca’s first sight of me to be that of a naked man hanging out in front of the window. Of course, I could bring up a change of clothes with me, but a casual glance at the wrong time would result in a first impression I couldn’t erase.
So I went a different route.
“Azrael, keep an eye out,” I said. “Bianca Gambetti has some sort of divinity aiding her. I don’t want to be taken by surprise.”
I felt Azrael’s quiet acknowledgement, then got to work.
Bianca’s building didn’t have external fire escapes, but the one next door to it did. It was a simple matter to jump up to the lowest platform, and from there it was easy. I climbed up swiftly and surely, and wasn’t even breathing hard when I reached the roof.
This building was taller than Bianca’s by perhaps ten stories. It had a flat roof, empty except for a substantial communal garden and a couple of gargantuan air-conditioning units.
I made my way to the side of the building and looked down and across at my target. Bianca’s building wasn’t immediately adjacent to the one I was on. Nor was it the width of a single street between them. Perhaps, for security reasons, Bianca had chosen this building deliberately, to make it as hard as possible for someone like me to reach.
If someone had chosen to set up a full-sized football field between my building and Bianca’s, they could have done so with room to spare.
There was a helicopter landing pad that I thought I could get to, but it was dicey. Not only was it a drop of ten stories, but I had to make a substantial leap in the process. And from where I stood, the target looked tiny. A postage stamp compared to the sprawling, dark structure of the penthouse suite itself.
But, it seemed like a good challenge. “Can we do this?” I asked Azrael.
“Of course,” he said. “But it would be easier if in demon form. All you need would need to do is unfurl your wings–”
“And then what?” I asked him with significant irritation. “Knock on her window with my dick hanging out? How is she supposed to respond to that?”
“You never know,” Azrael responded dryly. “She might welcome you in. You heard what Rachel said. This woman has been alone for a number of years.”
Despite myself, I had to grin at his response. In my experience, Azrael wasn’t noted for his sense of humor, but every now and again, he could surprise me.
Even so, I preferred to play it a little safer. I mean, having a stranger appear outside her window, thirty floors up, would be enough of a shock.
Realistically, I didn’t really give this much of a chance to work. It was much more likely I would have to batter my way inside and see what happened from there. But I at least wanted to try.
“Even so, you should be fine. You have the strength and the durability. The only question is your coordination sufficient to make such a leap.”
It was reassuring to hear the demon say so, but I couldn’t help but look down the side of the building. One edge of the helicopter landing pad was open. If I landed short, it was a long way down to the ground.
Then again, what was the difference between falling ten floors and forty? Would I already reach terminal velocity by the time I hit the helipad? If so, then I ought to be able to walk away from a miss just as easily.
“What are you waiting for?” Azrael asked, and I silently cursed. He was right, even though I didn’t say it out loud. I was procrastinating.
I took one last look at my target and nodded once. “Right,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”
There was a low wall around the top of the building. If I’d been sure I could make it, I would have stood on the top of that wall and launched myself at my target. As it was, I felt like I needed a run up. Which made things a little awkward because I wouldn’t be able to see my target until after I’d kicked off. I had to take a literal leap of faith, clearing the low wall with my final leap, and trusting that I had done everything right.
Or… Maybe that wasn’t quite right. Maybe I could gain the momentum I needed, and instead of leaping over the wall, I could make it my last step. That way, I could make any last moment corrections, and hopefully all would be well.
I decided to go with that plan. It seemed better, but I still had to aim myself as well as I could before getting to the wall. Any corrections I had to do then couldn’t be major.
I gave myself as much room as possible, backing all the way up against one of the oversized air conditioner units. I focused every fiber of my being on the part of the wall I was aiming for, took two quick, deep breaths, crouched low, and hurled myself forward.
It took no more than a heartbeat to cross maybe forty yards. Even though I still looked it, I was barely human anymore.
I was still more than a dozen feet away from the wall when I took my last step, flying through the air as my target came into view. I knew without any doubt that I was on target, that I aimed everything right. All that was left was to touch down on the top of the wall and give it one final kick, and then I would be done.
Except…
When my foot touched the wall, I hadn’t taken into account the sheer force and power I was able to generate. My shoes were able to cope, but the wall…
I touched the wall just where I aimed. But it couldn’t handle the force of my kick.
It crumbled and broke apart at the top like it had been struck with a demolition ball.
Not bad in the scheme of things. Perhaps the apartment owner beneath might have heard bits of concrete shower down on his roof or even heard my thunderous footsteps.
But that wasn’t the issue.
The issue was that I’d counted on that last kickoff to give me the launch I required to cross the distance between the two buildings. Instead, I lost momentum.
Nobody makes the first jump, I thought randomly, and knew that I hadn’t quite done enough to make it.
Not quite. Not to land where I wanted, at the far end of the helipad.
But that didn’t stop me from trying to make the near edge.
I found myself flapping about as if it would do any good, to the sound of Azrael laughing in my mind. At the same time, I let out a wail, like a moan of despair. I couldn’t help it. It just kinda slipped out.
And then I was slamming face first into the edge of the helipad, smashing my nose into the concrete, and ignoring the pain as I scrabbled about trying to grab hold.
My left hand came up with nothing, but the first two fingers of my right caught the edge of the helipad. I hung there for maybe half a second, swinging like a pendulum, my eyes squinted shut at the pain in my nose.
“Don’t lose it!” came Azrael’s helpful advice. “It’s still a long way down.”
I gritted my teeth, blocked out the pain, and did my level best to hold on despite my own weight working against me. I swung back the other way, and that was enough to let me get a grip with my other hand.
From there, it wasn’t a problem. I breathed a sigh of relief as I hung for a moment, then flipped myself easily to the top.
I’d made it. I looked back the way I had come and saw the damage my kick had made to the wall. Even so, I had to grin. “Beat that, Neo,” I muttered, th
en felt my nose to make sure it was okay.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t broken. But it still throbbed a little.
Minor damage, I decided, and looked about for the best route from the helicopter pad to Bianca’s balcony entrance.
17
I chuckled quietly to myself. There I was, thirty stories high, trying to casually walk across the balcony of Bianca’s penthouse. As if I was just out for a stroll and happened to be passing.
It was a bit of a joke, and I knew it. More likely, I’d have better luck turning full demon and breaking my way in through the oversized glass windows.
But my chances of successfully carrying out this plan would plummet to zero if I did, whereas if I continued as I was doing, at least I had better odds.
The lighting was such that I could see inside without any problems. There weren’t any curtains, and Bianca didn’t seem to believe in conserving electricity. But mostly what I could see was an open, marbled entryway, complete with a fine leather living room suite.
I was still appearing in, trying to look casual, when I was spotted. Not by the crime boss herself, but by one of her dogs.
It was enormous. An Irish Wolfhound by name, a Hellhound by appearance. Fully three feet tall at the shoulder, it was a mass of wiry but powerful sinew, and as soon as it saw me, it went from adorable puppy to rabid wolf-monster in a heartbeat.
It bared its teeth and the fur on the back of its neck rose to stand on end. Without any hesitation, it approached until it was standing on the other side of the glass, and I could hear the low growl it uttered.
Despite all the enhancements Azrael had given me, I felt a shiver of fear crawl up my spine. Logically, I knew I could outrun the beast. I could pick it up and fling it through a wall. And I doubted that its teeth, no matter how sharp and hungry the dog looked, would be able to so much as pierce my skin.