by N. C. Reed
Sean ignored this by play as he knelt to clean his knife and pick up the lantern the dead man had been carrying. He turned the man over, looking at his face. He could see a slight resemblance to the one they had left chained to a truck in the quarry.
“Know him?” he asked Sean, light on the dead man's face.
“Nope,” Tony shook his head. Sean rifled his pockets and came up with a leather identification folder. Flipping it open he found;
“Sonny Rigotta Falcone,” Sean read. “Well, that explains the restaurant, don't it?” he asked. He stood, pocketing the wallet.
“We need to make with the gettin' the hell outta here part of the plan,” he told Tony. “There's two more plus the old woman. And this is their ground.”
“All right,” Tony nodded. “Lucy, you gotta buck up now, okay? Like the old man says, you take it easy once you get home, right?”
“I'm okay,” she sniffled, trying to keep Sean from seeing her. “I must look awful,” she said without thinking.
“She's fine,” Tony told his friend dryly. “If she can worry about what she looks like, she's fine.”
“Shut up!” his sister slapped his chest. “I've been here for. . .I. . .I don't know how long I've been here,” she admitted suddenly.
“Just since morning,” Tony promised. “We'll talk about that later. Right now we need to be leaving.”
Pulling her along with him, Tony followed Sean out. They passed the van and moved back to the door Sean had jimmied open. The former assassin eased the door open and looked outside. He could see one ground car and no one with it. Motioning to his followers to come outside, they headed for Tony's vehicle, staying close to the building.
Even as they moved to the car, they could hear another vehicle approaching.
“Okay, they're probably going inside,” Sean said quietly as he helped Lucia into the rear seat. “You get down on the floor and stay there,” he ordered the girl, who nodded, looking up into his face. This was the first time she had seen him clearly in all that had happened, and she froze for an instant.
He was covered in blood though it wasn't his own. It didn't matter to her. He had saved her. And her brother. She suddenly threw her arms around him and hugged him, blood and all. Startled, Sean instinctively grabbed her arms and pulled her away from him.
“Inside!” he ordered and she hurried to obey. He shut the door and turned to find Tony looking at him oddly.
“What?” Sean asked.
“What happened between you and my sister, man?” he demanded.
“What?” Sean repeated, this time puzzled rather than inquiring.
“You were alone with her in the dark for how long?” Tony asked, head cocked to one side. “And then she up and hugs you like that? Known you, what? Fifteen minutes?”
“Are you serious?” Sean looked at his friend in amazement. “What-we ain't got time for this bullshit!” he hissed, running to the far door. “We need to get the hell outta here!”
“You're avoiding the question, Sean,” Tony said as he got in behind the controls. “What happened between you and my sister.”
“I'm right here, you know,” Lucia said from the back floorboard.
“This doesn't concern you, Lucy,” Tony told her gently. “You just stay there and let us take you home,” he started the car.
“And you,” he looked at his friend. “You still haven't answered me.”
“Drive us outta here, you idiot!” Sean demanded.
“Let me worry about the driving,” Tony told him, engaging the drive and moving around behind the building. “You need to worry about why my baby sister suddenly felt the need to hug your bloody ass right out here in front of God and everybody!”
“I don't believe this shit,” Sean sighed, settling into the seat.
-
“Well, that's Sonny's car,” Sandy said, completely unnecessarily.
“Is it?” Terase said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I was wondering who that could be!”
“Really?” Sandy looked at her as he parked their own ride next to his brothers. “You don't recog-, oh,” he stopped, realizing that his mother was staring at him intently.
“Had to be a mix-up at the hospital,” Terase was shaking her head as she got out. “Had to be.”
“What's that mean?” Terry asked. “Hey, do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Terase asked as a ground car came tearing around the plant, heading for the gate as fast as it would go.
“Who the hell was that?” she demanded.
“I dunno,” Sandy said. “Want us to go after 'em?”
A cold feeling suddenly hit Terase.
“Find Sonny!” she ordered her two sons. “NOW!” she yelled, galvanizing the two into action. The three of them plunged into the foundry, lights sweeping all around them.
“Sonny!” Terase called, pulling a suppressed pistol from behind her back. When she got no answer, she called again, louder.
“Sonny!” her voice echoed off the walls of the empty chambers.
“Find him,” she snarled to her other two sons who pulled their own weapons and headed into the hallway/tunnel. They didn't have to go far.
“Oh, no,” Terase muttered as she saw the still form lying on the concrete. As she fell to the floor by her oldest son's body, Sandy knelt with her holding the light. Terry moved on down the hallway, returning in less than a minute to report that the girl was gone.
Terase cradled her son's body in her arms, rocking him back and forth.
“Ma, what do we do?” Terry asked. “Jamie's still gone,” he reminded her.
“You think he's still alive?” she snarled back. “Jamie gave us up and got Sonny killed in the bargain!” It never occurred to her to take the blame for leading her 'boys' down the wrong path to begin with. All were cold blooded murderers and had raised by her to be that way. Determined to prove that a woman could make it anywhere a man could, she had used her sons as a hammer to pound her way back into the Family's business, trying to restore the 'honor' they lost when she was just a girl.
All of that had culminated in this job; force Jerome Delgado to step down and name his oldest son as his heir, then mail his daughter back to him in a bag. After that no one would doubt that Terase Falcone had what it took to make it on San Lucia. After that, things would change.
“Ma, we need to do something here,” Terry prodded gently. “We lost the girl and they know who we are. We're down Sonny and Jamie and we already paid off the others. What do we do now?”
Terase said nothing as she continued to rock back and forth, the body of her oldest son still cradled in her arms. Her two living sons exchanged a look in the glare of the lanterns, concerned and not a little afraid. They had never seen their mother like this.
It wasn't that Sandy and Terry weren't concerned for the loss of Sonny or possible loss of Jamie. But Sonny was dead and Jamie with him most likely, or if not then turned rat to save himself. They on the other hand were still very much alive and wanted very badly to stay that way.
“Ma, what do we do?” Sandy asked. His only reply was a slight keening sound from their mother that it took a minute for them to recognize.
Terase Falcone was crying.
-
Jerome Delgado opened his desktop com unit, face in a frown. Very few people had access to that particular contact. He was surprised to see it was audio only, which mean it was coming from a portable.
“Pop, we got her,” he heard Tony say at once. “It was the Falcones. Old woman named Terase and her four sons. We got two of them already. . .well, one and a half possibly since we left one partly alive at the quarry. I gave the crew the rest of the week off with pay, by the way,” he added as an afterthought. “I needed room to work. Anyway, we got Lucia and we're headed home as fast as we can.”
“Is she injured?” Jerome asked, dreading the answer even as he was relieved to hear she was alive.
“No, she's okay,” Tony told him. “Might be a little dehyd
rated and might go into shock, but otherwise she's fine. Her wrists and ankles are raw from where she was tied but other than that I think she'll be okay. I, ah, don't know how to play this exactly, since we, ah, might have gone to a few extremes to get this done. I don't know what to do, pop,” he admitted.
“I know what to do,” his father assured him, confidence surging through the older man as he learned that his daughter was safe, as was his son. “Come home, Antonio. Both of you. All of you, come home. I'll take care of everything else.”
“We'll be there soon,” Tony promised before cutting the connection. Jerome punched a button on his desk top.
“Wilhelm, come to me at once,” he ordered and then switched to another line without waiting for a reply.
“Yes?” his wife's voice answered at once.
“Our son returns, with our daughter,” her told her. “We must make haste. There is work to be done.”
Less than a minute later Antonia was standing in her husband's study, watching as he gave orders to their security chief.
“I'll have it taken care of at once,” Wilhelm assured him with a nod and left the room.
“Your War Hound and our son have done some rather harsh things apparently, in search of our daughter,” Jerome's tone was approving rather than reproachful. “We must make arrangements to protect them from repercussions by the law. Also,” he sighed, standing, “we now know who perpetrated this act against us. Terase Falcone.”
“Falcone?” Antonia frowned. “I. . .I don't recognize that name,” she admitted.
“It is an old hate, from long before we met,” he admitted. “In my younger days, my father had a feud with the Falcone. He was part of the Rigotta Family by marriage I believe. He tried to muscle in on my father's legitimate operations by threatening his less than legal ones.” Jerome looked up at her.
“I'm afraid my father was a bit more direct and less patient that I am,” he shrugged. “The Falcone did not survive his attempt and as a result his group folded completely. There is still a good bit of animosity between myself and the Rigotta organization, though it is mostly for show I think. Or I did think, anyway,” he added. “Apparently for this Terase, it was more than that. We will see what Wilhelm can find out about her.”
“In the meantime our daughter will be here soon, safe in our care once more. We need to get rid of the that police officer and. . .decide what we will do with Roberto,” the words were heavy on him.
“I told you I would deal with Roberto,” Antonia said gently. “Have we any way to prove that he was part of this?” she asked.
“None I am aware of,” Jerome admitted. “His actions today, however, and his reluctance to back our own lead me to believe that he knows more than he has shared with us.”
It was a convoluted way of speaking, but it was more habit than anything. A way of saying something without saying it. A way of communicating that stretched all the way back to Earth. “Kill him” became “will someone not solve this problem for me?”
Asking for something to be done, rather than ordering it done. Suggesting something might be true, rather than saying definitely that it was.
“I do not wish to believe that he would go so far, but. . .I have no confidence in him,” Antonia admitted. It was as good as condemning him.
“I leave it in your hands, my dear,” Jerome settled for saying. “I must attend to other matters.”
“Then I will leave you to them, my husband,” Antonia smiled. She nodded gracefully and left, heading for her own study. Marisa was waiting for her there.
“Have you found anything?” she asked without preamble, taking her seat.
“I am sorry, Dona,” Marisa said formally as she slid a chip across the desk to her benefactor. “My cousin, Angelina, she is very skilled at intercepts and decryption. She learned from the LDF. Intelligence Bureau.” The LDF was the Lucia Defense Force. Lucia was one of the few sphere-ward planets that bothered to maintain more than a Corporal's Guard of a military.
“I see,” Antonia took the chip with a stone face. “I assume that this is. . .damning?” she asked.
“I'm afraid so,” Marisa said apologetically. “I am very sorry,” she said again, bowing slightly. “I will wait outside,” she offered.
“No,” Antonia shook her head. “No, you will stay. Elena was your friend, Marisa, and you are my closest confidant outside my husband. Whatever is on here you have earned the right to hear it.”
“As you wish, Dona,” Marisa nodded and sat down across from her patron.
Antonia inserted the chip into her desktop and listened to her son condemn himself.
-
“Your investigation is over,” Jerome said flatly as the police lieutenant was summoned to the older man's study. “My daughter will be home soon, freed from her captors by means other than yours. The perpetrators are unknown to us still, but my daughter did say that she heard one of the kidnappers, a woman, say that this was a vendetta against my own father, for some slight from long ago. You are looking for a woman, apparently.”
“I'll need to speak with your daughter,” the officer shook his head. “I'll carry her into the station and-”
“You will do no such thing,” Jerome cut him off. “You will not speak to my daughter at all. When she is sufficiently recovered she will give a formal deposition of everything she can remember of this ordeal, but for now she will be under a doctor's care, here in my home. And you will be nowhere near her. Please collect the rest of your people on your way out,” he ordered, dismissing the man.
“I think you've got the wrong idea here, Mister Delgado,” the police detective said officiously. “I'm the one who decides-” he trailed off as Jerome Delgado punched a single button on his desktop com and the face of the city's police commissioner appeared.
“He has refused,” Jerome said simply.
“Put him on,” the man ordered. Jerome turned the unit where a suddenly pale detective was looking at his boss', boss', boss.
“Sir, I was just explaining-” he began.
“Let me explain,” the Commissioner cut him off. “This investigation will move outside of the Delgado estate and stay there. Any information developed from the Delgado daughter will be passed along to you without delay. She will be interviewed by a court recorder as soon as her family physician clears her, and you will have immediate access to that as well. In the meantime, gather your people and get clear of the Delgado estate. And stay clear of their family. Are we clear?”
“Clear, sir,” the lieutenant nodded, biting back his fury.
“Outstanding,” the Commissioner nodded. “Mister Delgado, I again apologize that something like this could have happened in our city,” the man went on as Jerome turned the screen back to himself.
“I do not see how you are to blame,” Jerome shrugged. “Your people were not present, and have worked tirelessly to find out what happened and return my daughter. For that I thank you,” he bowed his head slightly.
“It's our duty, sir,” the Commissioner replied. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to call.” With that the screen went blank. Jerome looked up at the red-faced detective.
“Are you still here?”
Spinning on his heel, the police officer stormed from the office, two of Delgado's security men on his heels.
I will have to watch that one, the older man told himself as he watched the police lieutenant leave. He will want payback for what he sees as a slight.
He never liked to involve higher ups like that, but in this case he wanted the man and his minions gone before his children and young Galen returned.
He suspected there would be blood to clean up, and that always made policemen want to ask troublesome questions.
CHAPTER SEVEN
-
“Well, that was some evening, wasn't it,” Meredith commented as the quartet trooped back aboard.
“Sure was, Cap'n,” Faulks nodded, sauntering up the cargo bay, hands in her pockets. “Almost a real shebang th
ere for a minute.”
“We can do without those,” Meredith reminded her.
“That's true,” Faulks nodded. Her attitude had changed a great deal since the general house cleaning some weeks before. Faulks was finally becoming the stalwart hand that Meredith had always needed her to be. A comforting presence in time of trouble.
“Well, at least the food was good,” Lincoln hefted his tray.
“That guy made me drop mine on the side walk,” Jessica made a moue of her face. “And I was still hungry, too!” she added petulantly. Meredith looked at her 'sister', unable to reconcile her attitude now with the scared young woman on the sidewalk not an hour ago.
“You seem to have recovered well,” she noted dryly. Jess looked at her a bit shame faced.
“Well,” she drew the word out. “I admit I sort of played the distressed damsel a little back there. I thought if I was upset and stressed the officer would be less likely to press me so hard about who I was and where I was from. My 'papers' are supposed to be top grade, but I thought it better not to put too much pressure on them the very first day.”
“Good idea,” Lincoln nodded. “And I must say, you play the damsel very well,” he grinned.
“Thank you kind sir,” Jessica smiled and bowed her head slightly. “I must say that you are quite handy with a stylus and a pocket knife,” she added.
“Just part of a medical course I took years ago,” Lincoln shrugged. “To be honest, I'm a little surprised I remembered how to do it.”
“Why did you try it, then?” Meredith demanded. “You could have killed that guy!”
“He was dying anyway,” Lincoln reminded her. “There wasn't anything to lose, really. If I failed then he was no less dead than if I did nothing. Since it worked, he's alive.”
“And probably headed for jail,” Faulks commented. “That really was stupid, though,” she added thoughtfully. “I mean, you just don't go up and grab someone from behind like that. Not on a crowded street. Even someone you think you know.”
“What was it he called you again?” Lincoln asked.