Two soldiers in suits greeted Cal and Fonzie, not bothering to pat them down. It was a security measure he wouldn’t have overlooked had he been in charge.
“You got a bathroom in this place? I’ve gotta piss.”
The men looked at Fonzie as if he were crazy. The place probably had four bathrooms. The friendliest of the two men pointed Fonzie down a hall to their left before directing Cal through the foyer and into the great room.
“You boys made it,” Vinnie called out from the kitchen. Cal had been distracted by Melissa on his way to the great room and hadn’t had a chance to greet his adoptive brother.
“Dad will be out in a second. He’s going over everything to make sure all is in order. I think you’ll both find it to your satisfaction.”
Vinnie walked over to the sofa and took a seat. “Did you talk to Melissa?”
“Not for too long, just a few pleasantries walking in. Everything working out with her?” Cal wanted to turn the tables. Melissa was a relatively new consigliera, and Cal knew she wasn’t the most respected among the rest of the mob.
“She’s doing great. Not that I wouldn’t have been a better choice, but the old man has his reasons. She’s a very smart woman.”
“It helps that her husband brings home the bacon when needed.”
“Enough.”
Alfredo entered from his study, a look of disdain on his face. He walked to the sofa and sat down next to his son while motioning for Cal and Fonzie to join them. Once they were seated, Alfredo snapped his fingers and a man from the foyer brought a bottle of pinot noir and four glasses to the coffee table. He poured them drinks and returned to the entrance.
“Ahh, that’s good stuff,” Alfredo said after helping himself to a drink. “Now, let’s address the reason you’re both here. As you know, we have a royal pain in the ass to deal with in Mayor Caruso. I paid a visit to Mr. Caruso the other day. It was a very painful visit for him.”
“Wait a minute,” Fonzie interrupted. “You tellin’ me that you fucked up the mayor?”
“You’re goddamn right I am,” Alfredo shouted. “Normally, I’d get pissed that you interrupted me like that, Fonzie, but I forgive you. That’s how great I’m feeling about whooping the mayor’s ass. He thinks he’s won me over because I might have agreed to help him out with some of the gang problems on the South Side. He wants me to get rid of those thugs so he looks good when he runs for his next political office. Little does he know that, even if he thinks he has me backed into a corner, I’m still a powerful man.
“Caruso’s trying to bribe us and have us in the coffers instead of the other way around. He’s putting police pressure on our good business. It’s pretty clear he’s still sour over what happened to his granddaddy, and he wants his revenge. Well, as of today, I’m declaring that revenge is truly not sweet.”
Alfredo focused directly on Cal and Fonzie, then continued. “This whole Caruso business is threatening everything we stand for, everything we’ve worked for. You are two of the most reliable men I’ve got, and I plan to reward you for that. I know you’re not made men yet, but if you accomplish this for me, you’ll be more than deserving of the honor. Even you, Cal. The Commission will back us up on this one hundred percent once they see how much of a squeeze the mayor is putting on us. Tell ’em, Vinnie.”
Vinnie ran his hand through his ponytail and leaned forward on the couch. “It’s simple. We’re officially declaring a hit on Mayor Caruso. We’d prefer it happen as soon as possible, by whatever means necessary. After Dad met with Caruso the other day, there’s no telling how long he’ll hold off before he acts on the secret MacErlean shared with him.”
Cal ground his teeth. He felt a sense of relaxation once the word “hit” had been uttered. He felt like a long-deprived junkie whose dealer was finally coming through with his precious fix. Only this time, Cal wasn’t reaching deep into his pockets to pay up. He was starting to think about all the food he could buy with that drug money, and the thought of a temporary high didn’t feel as good.
“Earth to Cal,” Vinnie said, waving his hand in front of Cal’s face. “Do you understand what we’re asking? This is a pretty basic conversation.”
Fonzie turned to Cal, the concern in his eyes all too clear. Cal couldn’t hide his distaste for killing anymore. He had to tell Alfredo and Vinnie how he really felt. Or did he?
He knew he could always agree to go along with the hit. It would put him in a position of power to bargain for his way out of the mafia after taking care of perhaps the greatest threat to Alfredo Petrocelli’s reign as boss of the Chicago mafia.
His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears. He took a deep breath. Only after the last of his breath escaped his lungs did he dare give his answer.
“If I say yes to this hit, because I know what killing Caruso will do for us, I want your assurances that this is it.”
Cal’s breath caught in his throat like a fish being yanked out of water. All he noticed were the three pairs of wide-open eyes fixated on his face. Not breathing again seemed preferable to the perplexed gazes Fonzie and the Petrocellis gave him. Cal held his breath until he felt fuller than a hot-air balloon.
“Are you asking for a way out?” Alfredo asked.
“I’m not asking,” Cal said. He found his inner strength, his ability to stand up for what he wanted. “I’m saying I’ll do this because we’re all in this together. I’ve done a lot of thinking about my life and my future. I don’t think I can keep killing anymore, not after how messy my last few surveillance trips have been. You’ve all hinted at it in various ways. I’m slipping.”
Vinnie rubbed his fingers over his chin. Fonzie stared at him, unblinking. Alfredo could only nod. The boss seemed to be calculating whether letting Cal walk away would be acceptable.
“Alright, Cal. If you need Vinnie and I to assure you that we’ll let you walk away, in order for you to take down Caruso, then you’ve got my word. This is the most important kill you’ve ever been commissioned for. Make this one last kill and you’ll be free to go.”
Cal wanted to let out a sigh of relief. The tension in his stomach eased, and he imagined Maria jumping up and down with joy at the prospect of Cal’s release from the mafia. Alfredo’s reaction wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Instead of snapping in anger, Alfredo had remained calm and collected.
Seeing Alfredo in this state was a rarity for Cal growing up. The boss was at his calmest when he knew things were going to go his way. Or when he’d already made up his mind that he was done with you.
Cal knew he couldn’t afford any more slipups. Get this job done and Alfredo would have no reason to tie him down. Or take him out.
18
The rest of the meeting was a breeze after Cal admitted his desire to leave the mafia. Even Vinnie’s warning that he wouldn’t have his usual amount of time to complete the hit—no chance to establish Caruso’s patterns or get a feel for his tendencies—didn’t worry Cal. With the Commission coming to meet Alfredo on Monday night, Cal only had three days to find Caruso and kill him.
Vinnie then rambled on about how handsomely he and Fonzie would be paid for their efforts, which Cal tuned out. He didn’t care about money anymore. A six-figure sum for a hit wasn’t anything new to him. What he wanted to do was leave it all behind him and then prove to Maria that he was a changed man, that he could move past a life of crime.
Tony picked them up from the penthouse and drove them to Lou’s Tavern. The place had just opened. Fonzie selected a table instead of sitting at the long wooden bar. He patted his stomach and scrunched the muscles of his face in a tight contortion of discomfort.
“Tense meetings like that make me hungry. I don’t know what it is, but when a brotha’s gotta eat, a brotha’s gotta eat.”
Cal couldn’t argue with that. The prospect of a tasty meal had his stomach grumbling too. A gum-smacking waitress took their orders, and the two men sat in silence.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Fonzie sai
d once the waitress had brought their drinks. “You shaking in your boots about asking for an out? I can’t believe you did it.”
Cal sipped the beer and nodded. “I’ve occasionally thought about it, but it was something Maria said the other day that made me do it. She ran out after I told her I was a hit man. I’d kept it a secret for a year, and she no longer bought my cover story. She doesn’t know if she can be safe with me.”
Fonzie took a long swig of Bud Light. “You really like this girl, don’t you?” He flashed Cal a smile and winked at him.
“Stop it. You’re the only person outside of the leadership who knows about her. I’m worried what will happen now that Alfredo has met her.”
“What do you mean?”
“He could use her existence as leverage, find a way to pull me back in just as I’m trying to force my way out. He could hurt her.”
Fonzie nodded, and they both finished their first beer. Cal motioned to Gum Smacker, who was standing at the bar chatting with the overly muscled bartender. She brought another round for Cal and Fonzie, her eyebrows raised suspiciously.
“Let’s think this through,” Fonzie said once the waitress had left again. “We’ve got three days to find the mayor, get him alone, and then kill him?”
“Yeah, sounds right. If we’re lucky, we might catch the mayor on his way out of City Hall today. If we don’t, we could have a problem. I’m not sure where he lives.”
Fonzie flashed his trademark toothy grin. “Lucky for us, I do. Why do you think I stayed behind after he left the hospital? I followed his ass home.”
Cal took another long gulp of beer as Fonzie debated whether they should follow the mayor home or try to take him by surprise elsewhere.
“If the mayor is smart, he’ll stay at home all weekend,” Cal said. “If he doesn’t, he puts himself at a greater chance of harm if he’s afraid Alfredo already knows the Commission is coming.”
“Yeah, but what makes you think the mayor knows that? That’s another thing I’ve been meaning to ask you. What is this secret that Alfredo doesn’t want the mayor to know? The shit we killed MacErlean for?”
He knew Alfredo would probably have him executed on the spot if he revealed why Caruso was targeting him. But it was a chance Cal had to take. He told Fonzie the whole story around Louie Petrocelli’s death and his own part in it before revealing he was finally cracking. Thinking back on the old mob boss’s death was one of many links in the chain that was starting to rust, causing him to want out of the mafia before it was too late.
“Are we still gonna take Caruso out?” Fonzie asked after a long silence. “One last kill for old time’s sake?”
Cal knew he had no other choice. He’d already committed to the kill and didn’t see another way out. The Caruso offer seemed less appealing in his mind.
“Sure. But after this, I’m done. Now I’m gonna go take a piss, then we’re gonna figure out how this will go down.”
Cal drained another beer and rose from the table, heading for the restroom. A huge weight was lifted off of his chest, like a ship being unanchored. As long as everything worked out with the Caruso kill, he’d be done with this life in a few days and could begin a new chapter.
Cal opened the door and walked toward the urinals. A hand grabbed at his back.
“I bet you didn’t expect to see me here, Boyle.”
19
Cal spun around and took a swing at the man but was blocked by a meaty forearm. He recognized the man as Bernie, the toughie with the falcon tattoo from the hospital.
Even though Bernie had his right arm restrained, Cal was able to fire at the rotund man with his left hand, knocking him back into the door with a loud thud. Cal jabbed him in the stomach, the bones of his hand sinking into the jellylike flesh of the mayor’s enforcer.
Cal held him against the door with his forearm while he pulled his Beretta out of the back of his jeans, pointing the barrel of the weapon at Bernie’s forehead. Instead of fighting back, Bernie bent forward, struggling to catch his breath.
“Tell me what the fuck you’re doing here or I’ll blow your brains all over this door and make Caruso come in here and clean it up,” Cal whispered. Despite the quiet nature of the threat, it appeared to have its desired effect on Bernie, as he started blinking rapidly.
Cal held the gun steady and placed his finger on the trigger. He’d already switched the weapon from safety to fire while pulling the gun out of his pants. Bernie moved his hands toward his head, which was now pouring sweat. He looked more like an amateur than the seasoned pro Cal had mistaken him for at the hospital.
“Alright, Boyle, chill out. I didn’t come here to kill you. I didn’t even come here to hurt you. Caruso wanted me to give you a message.”
“Oh yeah? I have a message for Caruso too. I’ll let you go first.”
Bernie stuttered as he prepared to explain his presence to Cal. Cal hoped he made it quick in case another male patron decided they needed to take a leak.
“Caruso’s offer, it’s still on the table. But I wanted to make your choice a bit easier for you. I’ve got some photos that I think you should see. Can I reach into my pants pocket?”
Cal looked at Bernie with disgust. What photos could this man possibly have? Cal nodded while lowering the gun to match the movement of Bernie’s hand. The fat man pulled what appeared to be two black-and-white photographs from the pocket of his jeans.
With his right hand shaking, he handed the photos to Cal. Cal took them and lowered the gun, pointing it at Bernie’s foot. The henchman must have taken this as a sign of Cal backing off. He straightened up a bit.
Cal saw that the photos appeared to be of a car accident. A smaller car was completely totaled as two SUVs crashed into it, one from each side. In the first picture, Cal saw police officers and other emergency personnel gathered at the scene, but he couldn’t make out many other details. The car that had been hit was demolished; he wasn’t sure what model it was.
He flipped to the second picture and saw a body being carried away on a stretcher. The sheet wasn’t completely covering the victim’s face. Cal’s blood ran cold. He knew by the white streak in the jet-black hair that the victim was his mother. The photos were of his mother’s car accident.
“Where the fuck did you get these? What does this have to do with anything?”
Cal felt a rage boiling inside of him like he had when he’d plunged the knife into MacErlean’s heart and when he’d pushed the boy over the railing in the warehouse all those years ago. He raised his weapon at Bernie, determined to pump a round of bullets into his chest.
“Wait, wait a minute.” Bernie was stammering again. Cal noticed a rather pungent odor as Bernie lifted his hands in surrender.
“Those are police photographs. The mayor got them. As far as the police were concerned, it was an open-and-shut case. Your mother runs a red light, and the SUVs are a little anxious to get going once the light turns green and smash into her. An unfortunate accident but nothing to suggest that it was more than an accident.”
Cal scanned the photos and forced himself not to cry at the memory of losing his mother. Any inkling of tears quickly turned to rage. How could the police think this was an accident? It may have been one thing for a single car to hit his mother going through a red light, but two?
“It’s funny the power the mafia used to have. They bought off the detectives assigned to the case; no one would suggest that Alfredo Petrocelli ordered his men to follow your mother and wait for the opportune moment to make her death look like an accident. Such a shame.”
Cal noticed Bernie’s mood change as he finished his story. Instead of sweating and quaking in fear, Bernie stood tall and puffed out his chest. The falcon tattoo above his chest appeared to be flying forward in triumph.
“These photographs are no proof.” Cal knew Alfredo was capable of such things, but even with his desire to leave him and the mob behind, he refused to believe it. “What does this have to do with anything anyway? You�
�re throwing something in my face that I can’t change.”
Bernie clicked the lock on the back of the restroom door shut, ensuring they wouldn’t be disturbed. He wiped the palms of his hands together and moved closer to Cal. The gun remained pointed at him.
“It’s not me you’re mad at,” Bernie said, eyeing the gun. “You’re right that the photos don’t prove anything and that you can’t change the past, but you can change the present. Mayor Caruso is prepared to go to great lengths to ensure the downfall of Alfredo Petrocelli, even pretending to be a Mexican drug lord. Impersonating this drug lord, Caruso phoned straight to the Commission to engage in a partnership with the Chicago mafia, going over Petrocelli’s own head. Only instead of being a Mexican drug lord, Caruso will show up as himself and tell the Commission everything, and the Petrocellis will be removed from power.”
Cal snorted. The plan seemed foolish to him. “What makes you think the Commission will believe you?”
“That’s where you come in.” Bernie smiled. “Caruso needs you on his team. He’s prepared to pay you double whatever the going rate is for your services. Maybe even triple. You’ll be there at the meeting and confess to the killing. But you won’t be hurt because you’ll be the new underboss of the Chicago mafia, ordained by the Commission.”
Cal raised a brow in confusion but refused to lower his guard. How could he be the underboss of the Chicago mafia? Beyond the fact that he wasn’t a made man, the Commission would surely kill him if they knew he was involved in Louie Petrocelli’s murder. After telling Bernie as much, the goon laughed again. It was surprisingly high-pitched for such a burly man.
“It’s all part of the mayor’s grand plan. This is how he finally gets back at the mafia after what they did to his poor grandfather and the first step in gaining the power he’ll need to go all the way to the White House someday. You see, once the Commission has Alfredo and Vinnie executed, they’ll install Caruso as the new boss of the mafia. Now, there will be a figurehead boss that I can’t reveal yet, but the mayor will be making the decisions. It’s what the mafia always wanted, a powerful political figure in their pocket. And the mayor can use the mafia for his own interests in cleaning up the crime in other areas of the city, helping his national profile.”
One Last Kill Page 10