“More than that.” Raymond paused. “I’m planning to run the organization.”
“The devil you are.” Salvatore pushed the podium, and the men in the front row scattered like ants as the wood splintered on the floor.
Antonio stood like a sentry beside his angry father. Any moment now, his uncle was supposed to tell the entire group that he and Antonio were partnering to run this organization together, but Uncle Ray didn’t look at him. His eyes were focused on Salvatore.
“You did fine running the rackets in Cleveland, Salvatore, but everyone knows the Puglisis have been cutting into your business. These men need to be confident that their leader knows the business, not just in Cleveland, but across the state. A leader who won’t allow some small-time operators like the Puglisis to steal away the profits.”
Salvatore reached for the podium and almost stumbled when he realized it was gone. It didn’t stop him from commanding the attention of his audience. “I hope none of you are listening to this nonsense. Raymond doesn’t know a thing about running a successful racket.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Raymond stepped even closer to the platform. “Why don’t you ask the boys from Cincinnati and Columbus about how I helped them?”
Salvatore’s gaze traveled over the crowd, narrowing in on Tom Sandrelli. “Have you been working with Raymond?”
Tom stood up. “He helped us increase our distribution.”
Salvatore swore.
Antonio stepped to the edge of platform. If Uncle Ray wouldn’t tell them about their partnership, he would. “My uncle is right. We need new blood at the top of the organization.”
Salvatore looked over at Antonio and stole the walking stick back out of his hands. He pointed it at his son. “You can’t possibly think you are ready for this.”
“I do, and Uncle Ray does as well.” He nodded at his uncle, the signal for him to pull his gun on Salvatore.
But Uncle Ray didn’t draw his pistol. Instead his lips twisted into a smirk.
The realization sickened Antonio. His uncle was double crossing him? He was supposed to be the one—
“You think Junior can run this organization?” Raymond asked the crowd.
Antonio glanced over at his father as voices rose in front of them. Salvatore’s face had gone white.
He and Uncle Ray had a plan. Tom Sandrelli and many others said they supported Antonio as their new leader, but he didn’t hear any voices of support in the audience. Instead there was confusion and dissent.
His uncle wouldn’t meet his eye and neither would Tom. He looked for Emanuele, but he’d told his cousin to guard the door. He had no inkling that he would need a guard for himself.
Antonio stepped closer to his father. Suddenly, he feared for his life as well.
*
A bat buzzed by Celeste’s head, and she waved her hands in front of her face. Her head swam, but she felt better tonight than she’d felt in a very long time.
She might be in Amish country, but she thanked her stars that the good folks about two miles down the road weren’t the least bit Amish. Nor were they teetotalers. It didn’t take much convincing when she opened her handbag and pulled out a roll of cash. They offered her the top pick from their collection of moonshine and a full meal along with it. She hadn’t eaten much of the food, but she’d helped herself to the hooch. Yes, they were good folk, and their bitter drink even tasted half-good after she’d drained the second glass.
Her beaded purse hugged close to her side, Celeste swung around a tree that lined the driveway and then continued toward Nicola’s Place.
The kids told her the real name of the farm when she dropped them off last night, but she’d forgotten who owned it. So she would tell everyone it was Nicola’s Place. No one remembered the name of her daughter anyway. They’d all forgotten about what happened in the past.
Well, tonight they would never forget.
She wrapped her fingers over her mouth, trying to choke back her laugh, but she couldn’t stop the giggle. It was too funny.
There were cars parked along the drive. Stupid men who thought they ruled the world, like no one could ever knock them off their thrones.
“One. Two. Three.” She counted as she thumped her fists on the trunks of their fancy Lincolns and Cadillacs. Then she lost count.
Ahead of her, Nicola’s Barn looked like a giant firefly in the woods, its belly glowing against the dark. Stumbling up to the door, she saw her nephew guarding the door, a gun at his side.
He jumped when he saw her. “What in the—”
She kissed his cheek. “Don’t you dare try to stop me, Emanuele.”
Then she twirled around and flitted around her nephew like the dancer she once was. No one could catch her if she flew.
The men had set up a stage in front of the room. Like they were politicians or something. Salvatore was on the stage next to their son, and a giggle escaped her lips at the walking stick shaking in his hands. Everyone thought the name Club came from the stick he liked to threaten people with, but really he was named after his greatest weakness. The nightclubs he loved.
“Hello, Sally,” she hiccupped. “Whatcha doin’?”
The man in front of her husband turned around, and she realized it was Raymond Cardano. Just in time for the show.
She giggled again as she opened her purse.
Oh, this was funny. Too, too funny.
*
Rollin heard a giggle followed by the sharp pop of a pistol. The room exploded in chaos as men launched from their seats and began scrambling around the room and across the platform. His own gun was clutched in his hands, his focus riveted to both sides of the room as he waited for the onslaught of gunfire.
No one else fired his gun.
He strained his neck over the railing, trying to see who started the shooting. There was a woman below, but he couldn’t see her face.
Her pistol in front of her, the woman’s voice was clear when she spoke again. “Someone needs to head up this ridiculous organization, and it won’t be Salvatore or Raymond.”
The men backed away from Celeste and her gun.
“I want you to nominate my son to be in charge.”
No one spoke.
“So,” Celeste said, her voice cracking. “Are you fools going to nominate my son or do I have to shoot someone else?”
Rollin froze along with the rest of the crowd, thinking. For the past six months, Celeste had been feeding him information, saying she wanted to put an end to the Cardano organization. But maybe she didn’t want to stop the organization. It could be that she was giving Rollin information so he could get rid of Salvatore. And Antonio would take over.
Celeste was the one who’d told him to be there the night Antonio’s men took down Leone Puglisi, but Antonio hadn’t done the killing. He could easily have blamed the murders on Salvatore’s men.
Every bit of information she’d given him was meant to criminalize her husband so Antonio could take over. And he’d been a willing participant.
Rollin shook his head, frustrated by his foolishness, and then he looked at the stage again. Salvatore was still standing up, looking over something…or someone.
If Salvatore wasn’t dead, who had Celeste?
CHAPTER 32
Never again would Salvatore harass Antonio and neither would any of his men. After tonight they would respect her, and they would respect her son.
“Antonio,” she called out, the pistol steady in her hands. Antonio would love her now, after she’d taken such good care of him. And he would take care of her for the rest of her life.
She squinted toward the platform, but she couldn’t see Antonio with all the men running around like chicks searching for their mother hen.
It looked like Raymond wanted to say something. She fixed the pistol on his head. Salvatore was dead, and she’d kill Raymond too if the men wouldn’t listen to her.
“Antonio?” she said again.
Where was he? She’d done
her part, now all Antonio needed to do was what he’d been born to do. Take charge. He needed to stand up and tell these men what they were supposed to do.
In front of her, the crowd seemed to part, and the dark hulk of a man plodded toward her.
It couldn’t be.
She’d hit him. She was certain of it. The moonshine was making her see things. Nightmarish things.
“Sally?” she slurred. Then she pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. She stared down at her fingers and realized her gun was gone.
Who had taken her gun?
“You idiot,” Salvatore said, towering over her. “You can’t even shoot the right person.”
She was on her tiptoes, desperately searching over his shoulder.
“Who—” she muttered.
“Now you’ve killed all of your children.”
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Then her scream ripped through the barn.
She collapsed to her knees, calling Antonio’s name over and over. Her son didn’t answer. She begged Salvatore to shoot her, but her husband lowered the gun. Sorrow ballooned inside her, and she thought she would explode.
“Please,” she begged Salvatore again.
A blast pounded her ears and something ricocheted through her body like lightning. As she fell to the ground, she welcomed the darkness. And the pain.
*
Antonio tried to push himself off the floor, but he couldn’t move his arms or his legs. People moved around him in a blur, but no one stopped to help him. When he cried out, no one seemed to hear him either.
Malloy was supposed to be in the barn, arresting Raymond for killing Salvatore. The men were supposed to see his authority with the police and his willingness to kill anyone for their organization, including his father. They were supposed to be listening to him right now, to the speech he’d prepared to lay out the future of their organization.
Except Raymond never pulled the trigger.
And his mother had come into the barn.
He saw the flash of silver in her hands. He heard her slurred words.
His own mother had tried to murder him.
*
Captain Malloy stood behind the body of Celeste, a smoking pistol in his hands. The barn doors flew open, and on the left, a half-dozen corrupt Cleveland police raided the building, guns in hand. On the right, Gilbert led the police troop from Sugarcreek.
Rollin bolted down the ladder from the loft and sprang onto the barn floor. For once, he was glad he wasn’t alone.
The Mafia leaders looked back and forth at the police, not knowing who was playing on their team, and several began slipping their hands into the air. Malloy looked almost as confused as the rest of the crowd until his eyes rested on Rollin. He began to lift one hand, like he was going to greet Rollin, but instead of waving, his boss spun around and ran.
Rollin chased Malloy out the door.
If the captain made it back to Cleveland alone, he could make up any story he wanted about what happened to Celeste Cardano and to Antonio. It wasn’t like any of the men here would testify against Malloy. It would be Rollin’s word against the word of a popular police captain.
Malloy jumped into a Cadillac and the door slammed behind him. Rollin raced toward him with his gun ready. He would blow out the tires if he had to. Not that it would stop Malloy, but he couldn’t go far.
The engine choked and sputtered when Malloy tried to start it. And then Rollin heard other cars sputtering around him.
Rollin chuckled. Gilbert had always been good at making sure the bad guys couldn’t run.
He pointed his gun at Malloy’s car as the man climbed out the passenger door. Malloy positioned his gun over the roof of the car, and Rollin ducked behind another one.
“You want me?” Malloy shouted.
“I want you to put down your gun so I can take you back to Cleveland without making a bloody mess in the car.”
“I’ll go back to Cleveland on my own, thank you. Without the blood.” Malloy laughed. “It’s too bad about you though.”
“Don’t worry about me, Malloy. I’ll be returning home on my own as well.”
Two of Cleveland’s finest raced by them, headed toward the forest. Malloy yelled for the men to stop and help him, but they didn’t even turn around. Apparently they were done taking orders from him.
“Was everyone on the force working for you?”
“Enough,” Malloy said from behind the car. “And they are still working for me.”
“Those men were quite devoted,” Rollin said. “Did you hire Lance Dawson to keep tabs on me?”
Another man jumped out of a car and began running down the driveway.
“Lance wasn’t smart enough to hide a needle in a haystack,” Malloy smirked. “I just figured he was too green to find anything out.”
Another gangster ran by the car, and in the moonlight Rollin recognized the great Club Cardano, fleeing like the common criminal that he was. Leaving his dead wife and his son and the loyal men in his organization behind.
“You played me for a fool, Malloy.”
The man laughed. “It wasn’t hard.”
“I know you killed Liz.”
“It was a darn shame to see her go too,” Malloy said. “She was the prettiest of all the Cardanos.”
Heat rose to Rollin’s face even though he knew Malloy was trying to anger him.
Malloy ducked behind the car, and Rollin took a deep breath. “Why did you hire me to be a detective?”
“Because you were so intent on getting the Cardanos that you were blind to everything else.”
Malloy was right. With his entire life focused on stopping the Cardanos, Rollin had missed the fact that his own boss was collaborating with them. Not only had he neglected to see the truth, he’d traded the past nine years of his life for this quest. He’d given up getting married, having a family of his own. He’d given up everything to get revenge.
Gravel crunched near the cars, but with other people running nearby, it was impossible to know if it was Malloy moving. Slowly, Rollin crept around the trunk of the car until he reached the back of Malloy’s Ford.
Malloy called his name, and Rollin stole a glance around the car, searching where he’d last seen Malloy. The man wasn’t there, so Rollin crawled toward the front of the car. As he rounded the hood, he saw the back of the police captain, searching for him.
Rollin thrust his gun out farther in front of him. He could pop Malloy off right now, for killing Liz and for ratting out Lance and for collaborating with the Mafioso. His finger pressed against the trigger, he wanted to pull it. Killing Malloy might get him his revenge, but perhaps that was for God to give. He would allow Malloy to face the justice system.
Behind him, the airplane engine started, and Malloy jumped at the sound. When he glanced over his shoulder at Rollin, his eyes grew wide.
“Drop the gun,” Rollin said. He didn’t want to shoot Malloy, but he would if the man didn’t surrender.
Malloy slowly placed the gun on the ground and with hands up, he turned toward Rollin. The police chief from Sugarcreek and two deputies rushed from behind Rollin and started to secure Malloy’s hands behind his back.
Malloy struggled against them. “Get your hands off me.”
“Not until you’re behind bars,” the chief said.
“Do you know who I am?” Malloy asked the men.
The chief picked Malloy’s gun up off the ground. “A criminal.”
“I’m a police captain in Cleveland,” he said, and then he nodded toward Rollin. “Rollin Wells is the criminal. He’s been out here for a week, supporting the Cardanos.”
The police chief looked from one man to the other.
“You know I’m not,” Rollin told the chief. “I’ve been trying to find out what the Cardanos were planning.”
“What they were planning?” Malloy said. “You helped them put together their plan and were probably paid quite handsomely for it.”
Rollin kept his gun p
ointed on Malloy. “You are the one who’s been collaborating with them for a decade now. They couldn’t operate their business without you covering for them.”
“Did you tell him what happened to your partner?” Malloy said. “How you shot him and left him to die?”
“That’s not—”
The chief homed in on Rollin. “What happened to your partner?”
“Cardano’s men murdered him when we got too close to the Bowman property, and they tried to kill me as well. Malloy told them we were coming.”
“Ease off him,” the chief told his two deputies behind Malloy.
Then one of the deputies stepped closer to Rollin, his eyes focused on Rollin’s gun.
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with here,” Rollin said.
“Come on,” the chief said, motioning to him. “We’ll sort it out back at the station.”
An explosion knocked Rollin to the ground, the sound deafening. He’d been trained not to react in the toughest of situations, but he’d never been blown off his feet before. He turned for an instant, in time to see flames engulf the biplane.
The chief swore, and Rollin turned back. The moment he did, Malloy stepped backward. With the officers focused on the fire, Malloy ran into the trees.
The police chief looked stunned for a moment, by both the explosion and the disappearance of the captain from Cleveland.
“Stop him,” Rollin yelled. And then he raced into the woods.
CHAPTER 33
Katie rolled over on the narrow bed, but she couldn’t sleep. Rollin was still at the barn, and Henry was asleep in the room across the hallway. She edged her feet over the side of the cot and lit a match. The lantern illuminated her bedroom, and she moved around the bed, to a large chest.
From the top of the chest, she removed her winter coat and several dresses and quilts. Under the quilts, she found the small satchel that she’d packed when she ran away from Cleveland.
Dumping the satchel on the bed, she rifled through the things she’d tossed inside that fateful night. There were the baby clothes she’d taken for Henry—clothes he’d never worn in Sugarcreek. A mismatched skirt and blouse. Three pairs of fancy shoes. And the clothes she’d run away in—her navy blue skirt and silk blouse and the strapped shoes her mother gave her the night she ran out the back door. They would probably look almost as old-fashioned in the world now as her Amish garb, but it was all she had.
The Silent Order Page 24