The Bisti Business

by Don Travis

  “And attempted kidnapping,” I reminded him. “That’s a serious felony charge.”

  “I’m not sure I’d go that far. To most people it would only look like an attempt to get information from you. Kinkaid sounds hard core. I’m not certain he’ll back you up, but we need to find him.”

  “Kinkaid lives by a code, one you and I might not fully understand, but turning on a snake who’s ready to give him up and who is not one of the famiglia won’t be a problem for him.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Look, I want to talk with Alfano alone. When I’m ready I’ll call and have you phone Aggie with some excuse for him to meet you. You can say Lando is asking for him—just him, not the old man. Will you do that?”

  “Okay, sure. What strategy are you going to use with Alfano?”

  “We know semen deteriorates rapidly, but I wonder if Alfano does.”

  I left him mulling that over. I needed to get away before his lawyer’s brain started sifting through possibilities and came up with what I had in mind. He would have put his foot down hard—squarely on my toes.

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  Chapter 36

  BY THE time I was prepared to face down Alfano, hours had passed, and a gibbous moon hung high in the sky. Gaines had refused to go along with my plan until he had a long session with Lando under the wary and watchful eye of Del Dahlman—thankfully without tipping my hand to Del. Technically we didn’t need the FBI’s help or cooperation since my assault had taken place within the city limits of Farmington; however, I’d learned it was better to have the FBI with you instead of against you, and Gaines did have a stake in the whole thing.

  I parked in the Courtyard’s busy lot and tucked my S&W 9mm in the belt at the small of my back before walking across the asphalt toward the porte cochere. Flickers of lightning in the southwest sky illuminated the scattered cloud cover and threatened us with more monsoon moisture. It seemed an ominous sign. Of course, all I intended was to face down a bully and listen to him try to explain his way out of assault and murder—and the rape of his younger son’s boyfriend. Shouldn’t be much of a problem.

  I clutched the attaché case in my right hand. All it contained was a transcript of my call to Kinkaid and a hidden camera with audio—a backup in the event Alfano discovered the wire I was wearing. Given his reputation as a crafty businessman, that was a distinct possibility. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d used a few wires over the years himself.

  I mounted the stairs to the second floor and headed down the hallway to the Alfano suite. The old man should be alone. Aggie had left the hotel a few minutes earlier in response to Del’s call. It was a diversion but not a sham. Lando had finally agreed to talk to his brother.

  Alfano answered my knock, and the sight of me at his door kindled a bright anger behind those dark eyes. If I had expected to see him in a silk smoking jacket with a cigar held in a hand with a pinkie ring, I was disappointed. He looked like a thousand other businessmen at the end of a hectic day: suit jacket off, white shirtsleeves rolled halfway up corded arms. Over his shoulder I saw a jumble of pens, keys, and pocket change littering a table beside the couch. A stogie burned in an ashtray.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  “Need to talk.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “Maybe not, but I’ve got plenty to say to you. Hear me out before deciding whether to talk to me or not.”

  “So talk.”

  “Not out here.”

  He poked his head through the door to check out the hallway and then backed inside to take a seat on the sofa. I plopped down on the chair opposite him. Pungent cigar smoke wafted between us—expensive cigar smoke. Alfano lacked the patrician features of his offspring, but he had the kind of plebeian good looks that usually coarsen with age. He had reached that stage of life.

  “Well, what is it?” His eyes bored into mine; he sat hunched forward, alert.

  “There are several developments I haven’t told you about. But first, tell me—for my own edification—why is the De Falco acquisition so important to you?”

  “It’s good business.”

  “Not according to Aggie. He believes you need to finish imposing your corporate culture onto the last buyout. Build your team before taking on someone half your own size.”

  “It’s not my son’s judgment that built the company into a $100 million enterprise; it’s mine.”

  Even as he spoke it hit me, and I thought I understood the urgency, the extreme measures this man was willing to take in order to ascertain the purchase went through. It made a weird kind of sense in light of the crash course I was getting in the makeup of Alfano’s psyche.

  “It’s Mona’s grandfather, isn’t it? You weren’t good enough for him, were you? Well, he was right. You can’t walk in the man’s shoes. You’re jealous of an old duffer who’s been dead for—what? Thirteen years? You can’t even match a tenth of what he put together in his lifetime. You don’t measure up. But why De Falco? That won’t close the gap on the old boy.” I laughed. “And worse, you’d be using Sabelito money to buy it.”

  “Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look, Vinson. Yeah, the bastard did everything in his power to see his precious Mona didn’t marry that Tuscan garbage. Cianfrusaglia, he used to call me—trash. But I got her anyway. Swept her off her feet. That’s the only time in her life she defied the old tyrant. As for using his trust? That’s the beauty of it. I use his money to beat him at his own game.”

  “It doesn’t wash. You’d still be a piker compared to his billion.”

  “I guess you aren’t so smart after all. Believe me, it matters. It’s going to end up making Titus Sabelito look like the piker.”

  What did that mean? What was I missing? Whatever it was, I didn’t have time to figure it out.

  “The real tragedy is that Lando had decided to support you in the purchase.” At the sudden gleam in his eyes, I smiled and added, “But not now. He’ll see you in hell before he lets you use Sabelito money to buy De Falco.”

  Alfano’s hand clinched involuntarily around his cigar, spilling gray ash over the front of his white shirt. He’d almost lost it, but he recovered quickly. He slowly brought the stogie to his lips and puffed, his eyes narrowing against the cloud of smoke.

  “Why?” he asked in a nearly normal voice.

  “Why? He has his own reasons, which he’ll give you in due time. Meanwhile, you may find this of some interest.”

  I took the leather attaché case from my lap and placed it on the coffee table, taking care that the camera continued to point in his direction. Then I opened it and handed him the transcript of the Kinkaid telephone call.

  His anger flared as he scanned the document. The flesh around his eyes seemed to contract like a camera lens when the setting is changed. The corners of his mouth turned down, and a flush touched his cheeks. Yet by the time he tossed the papers aside, he had himself under control again. His gaze was clear when he looked at me. The spot of color was gone from his face. “That means nothing.”

  I smiled. “You made a mistake, Alfano, one of many. You should have dumped the cell phone in the river, but I imagine you left that up to Kinkaid, and he decided to keep it. Now I have a recording of him admitting you hired him to assault and kidnap me.”

  “He doesn’t exactly say that, now does he?”

  I reached for the document. “Seems pretty clear to me. I asked him if you hired him for that purpose, and his answer was ‘Yeah, but nobody got kidnapped.’ That’s pretty clear.”

  “To you, maybe. But that’s not what it says to me. Besides, it’s his word against mine.”

  “Hardly. There’s forensic evidence as well. If you notice at the bottom of the transcript, Sergeant Dix Lee of the Farmington Police Department and County Sheriff’s Detective Lonzo Joe testified they heard the conversation. You might be interested to learn the Dallas police picked up Kinkaid about an hour ago. H
e’ll be back here in time to testify against you.”

  “You’re crazy, Vinson. My lawyers will make mincemeat out of you and these hick cops, including the FBI agent. Anybody assigned to a Podunk joint like this is bound to be the bottom of the barrel. Fingerprints?” He held up both hands, palms facing me. “Take a set before you start making claims.”

  “Don’t need to. Aggie and I got a full set from your wineglass at the restaurant this afternoon.”

  He froze for a second. “Aggie? So what?” It was obvious his son’s cooperation shook him—more than anything so far.

  “So you should have been more careful with your stun gun. Your prints were on the batteries, and they tie you to the assault and kidnap attempt.”

  I tensed as Alfano got up from the sofa. He eyed me a moment and then reached out and grabbed the neck of my pullover sweater. With a jerk, he ripped it to my waist, revealing the microphone taped to my chest. Without pausing, he tore off the tape, leaving me smarting from a crick in the neck and the defoliation of my chest. I managed to swallow my grunt of pain. He dropped the bug to the floor and ground it beneath the heel of his slipper.

  “Now it’s just you and me,” he sneered. “You’re trying to weave silk out of straw. You think you can take me down with shit like this? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” He laughed. “I know how to pick them, don’t I? I needed a queer to track down a queer. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “Speaking of queers, why’d you rape Dana before you killed him?” I asked, grateful he hadn’t decided to frisk me.

  His face went scarlet. “What? Don’t you start spreading that crap around. I’ll grind you up and spit you out. I’ll take everything you have. Those paltry millions your old man left you won’t even cover your legal fees. You can’t get away with calling me a faggot.”

  “It’s not up to me. That wineglass from the restaurant—it’s also got DNA.”

  That stopped him, and for one brief second the look on his fleshy face showed he knew he was losing control of the situation. The moment passed. He sneered. “Hope they got something to compare it with. When it comes up a mismatch, my civil case against you will be even stronger.”

  “I don’t understand people like you. You put your younger son through hell because he’s gay, but you’re as queer as he is.”

  “Don’t give me that shit.” He hesitated and licked his lips. “Even if they find something in that Norville queen, I wouldn’t be the first real man to shag a punk as payback.”

  Now I knew how to get to him. “I considered that possibility until I learned you fucked him before he left California.”

  “Same thing. If I did that, it was to show him he couldn’t get away with debauching my son. Besides, he was big enough to fight me off—if he wanted to, that is.”

  “You’re pathetic, Alfano. You despise your son for being what you, yourself, are.”

  “Anybody who knows me knows I’m not queer.”

  “You used a stun gun on Dana in California. Rendered him helpless, stripped him, and raped him. He confessed it all to Lando. He gave your son details Dana wouldn’t have any way of knowing if you hadn’t stripped for him. A rape is about power, but fucking is about lust. A rapist doesn’t have to strip to do what he wants. But you undressed and challenged him to look at a real man. Begged Dana to accept you, but he laughed at you.”

  Alfano flinched but held on to his self-control. Was it working? Had I found a dent in his armor?

  “You know what he told Lando? You did a pathetic job of it. He said he’d had high school kids better than you.”

  Still standing, he leaned forward, towering over me as I sat in the chair. “Laughed at me? He begged me to fuck him. Said he was tired of candy-assed kids. He wanted a real man. Wanted to know what it felt like getting it from an alpha male. Well, I showed him. I left him a quivering mass of jelly.”

  “Funny, he remembered it differently. Helpless, yes, because you hit him with the stun gun again before you left. Afraid he’d come after you, I guess. After being with Lando, he thought at least you’d be—”

  “Shut your filthy mouth.”

  The man was finally rattled. It was almost too easy. Most of what I was throwing at him had come from Lando earlier this evening, but the rest was straight out of my imagination.

  “Tell me about Bisti? Was Dana begging for it then too?”

  “Damned right. Had his hands all over me. He—”

  “You’re pitiful,” I said. “Why would a handsome young man in the prime of life in love with another handsome man want a gross, over-the-hill jerk like you?”

  Alfano sucked air.

  “We know you were in contact with him. The authorities have the records for the cell phone you gave Kinkaid. It shows a host of calls to Dana’s cell. You were begging for it again, weren’t you? Whining like a teenage kid. It drove you crazy imagining your son getting what you wanted. It ate you up knowing they were doing it every day. Does your wife know, Alfano? Does she know what a twisted deviant she’s married to?”

  “I’m warning you—”

  “Dana said you were like a little kid trying to get it off. Wondered how you’d fathered three children. Wanted to know—”

  Alfano took a swing but didn’t get much power behind it. Still, he rang my bell. My vision blurred, but I pushed him away and tried to rise. He snatched a pen from the table. I twisted sideways, raising a hand to protect my jugular. When he touched my arm, my spine arched. I fell back against the chair, toppling it over. The damned thing wasn’t a pen; it was a miniature stun gun.

  He came at me again. I scrambled away on all fours, seeming to move in slow motion. He touched my neck; my nerves went crazy as electricity poured into my system. He zapped me enough to render me helpless. When the pain finally eased, I felt as if I were swimming against the tide. Every movement took great concentration.

  “You fairy son of a bitch!” he screamed.

  Alfano grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over on my back with one hand trapped beneath me, the other flung out. My knees were splayed. With a sense of unreality, I realized the bastard was bent on murder. Even as panic swept over me, the hand beneath me—the right one—touched cold steel. My revolver. Damn, my revolver was still in my belt. Trying to collect my frazzled wits—not an easy task with my circuits blown to hell and gone—I concentrated on the fact this was a desperate situation. Deadly.

  Alfano stood astride me, making a loop of his belt, and that focused me, although it didn’t restore the marrow to my bones.

  “That… belt,” I grunted, “strangled… Dana?” Maybe I could kick him in the crotch if my legs cooperated. They wouldn’t.

  Surprised, he glanced at the leather strap. “As a matter of fact, it is. You’re right. I tore Norville a new one out at Bisti. Hadn’t planned on killing him, just on letting him know who was boss. But he wasn’t very smart. As soon as I let him up, he started yelping about telling Lando. Telling the whole goddamned world. He was going straight to the hospital and get a physical examination. Well, I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let a little queen go around babbling about me like that.”

  Strength was slowly flowing back into my arms and legs. I had to keep him talking. “San… Santillanes. He figured… it out.” I tried to sound weaker than I actually was.

  “First the incompetent idiot let Lando get away from him. Then I find out he shot at him—shot at my kid. Then on the way to the plane out on the mesa, he was dumb enough to demand more money. It was so damned easy it was almost funny. As soon as he parked the car, I reached over and pulled out his pistol. It was right there on a holster practically under my nose. There, does that tell you everything you want to know?”

  I managed to shake my head. “N… no. What… going to do with Lando if… if Santillanes caught him?”

  “Reason with him. I’d have won him over. Lando’s a smart boy. He’s family. Family loyalty would have kicked in.”

  “Like now?” I asked weakly.
“He told everything to… police and FBI.”

  “You fucking liar!” he screamed. “Lando won’t betray me. He’s my blood. And blood—”

  “Means nothing,” I said, more forcefully than intended.

  He bent over me, and I saw he still held that vicious silver cylinder. It didn’t carry the punch of a larger gun, but it would do the job if he held it to my flesh long enough. I batted at his hand and he drew back, giving me an evil grin.

  “Oh, no. None of that.”

  I stalled. “Can’t get away with… dead body… your room.”

  His laugh was more like a snarl. “Of course I can. You came up here uninvited and tried to blackmail me with lies about what Lando said to you. We argued. One thing led to another. I had to protect myself, didn’t I?” He laughed again. “My lawyers won’t have any trouble convincing a jury that a captain of industry’s words are worth more than a queer who snoops into other people’s business.”

  I willed my leg to move—the one with the bullet wound because the throbbing scar let me know it was still alive. It was more of a spasm than a kick. Even so, the force of the blow to his groin propelled him backward. He fell across the coffee table and went over. Still flat on my back, I fished around in my jacket pocket, jerked out my cell, punched a single digit, and yelled, “Now! Now!”

  Groaning with pain, Alfano crawled to his feet and kicked the phone out of my hand. He no longer held the tiny stun gun, which was somewhere amid the wreckage of the table, but he still had his belt. He quickly swung the loop over my head, and with his foot planted on my chest, he jerked the leather strap tight, the buckle snug against my throat. I watched his cold eyes as he strangled me.

  Darkness closing in fast, I tried to fight, but nothing would work properly. He batted away my ineffectual blows. I tried to twist my body, but his foot on my chest held me down. Finally I fumbled around beneath me. My hand closed over the pistol’s grip. Unable to see anything but diminishing shadows, I managed to pull my gun out. With no idea where I was aiming, I pointed upward and pulled the trigger. My hearing was virtually gone, but I knew the thing went off because it jumped out of my hand. The pressure eased slightly. I managed to catch one breath before it tightened again.