Armored (20 page)

The co-pilot managed to quickly stop the bleeding. Alfonzo had not yet reached an
acute phase of hemorrhage which may have led to hemorrhagic shock. His Intravascular volume and oxygen delivery were not completely impaired. Fluid resuscitation, oxygenation and use of vasopressors were administered in flight.

The pilot was well-versed in the emergency protocol for his VIP passenger and diverted the flight to Sweden where he a trauma specialist waited. Tyree worked his mojo.

A large donation buys confidentiality and anonymity for a John Doe who received priority care. Lab work, diagnostics, and hours later once Alfonzo was stabilized, the plane was back in the air.

The pilot had a good approach to short runway.
He did a recheck of the fuel flow before the landing gear was down. He nodded at the co-pilot, before utilizing the flaps to for a lower- approach speed and a steeper angle of descent. He had a better view of the landing area. The airspeed and rate of descent were stabilized as he aligned with the runway center line as the final approach began.

The whine of the aircraft cut the air to announce their arrival in the south of Sicily as the aircraft sped by markers and fields of grass. The touchdown was as smooth as a razor sliding across the face, when done right.

The jet skidded along the tarmac.

Troy saw the vehicle headlights chasing along the perimeter until the plane completely stopped. Alfonzo was advised to rest but
he was on his feet, talking on his cell and ready to disembark, saying he needed air.

Alfonzo was
stubborn; the entire crew experienced his defiance, even when it was in his best interest. Alfonzo exited the plane, his gait stiff, and his face paler than usual. He marched down the side of the tarmac ignoring the guys, walking out of earshot from everybody because he couldn’t hear over the noise. The sound soon died and he could finally have a coherent conversation.

“Mama, what the heck you mean she’s in New York?”

“Hijo, calmarse.”

He nearly shouted a string of profanities and then remembered his manners.
“Mama, por favor stop stalling and tell me what’s going on.”

When his mom recanted Selange’s message, he stopped abruptly, spun around and tossed the phone to the hard ground. He stomped the mess out of the cell with the little strength in reserve and the damn thing didn’t break. He got no satisfaction, only a headache and winded for trying to kill an inanimate object made with black box material meant to be indestructible, yet thinner.

Frustration and anger blended with no outlet for release was taken out on a kid who saved his life when he asked was everything all right.

“No the fuck it isn’t kid, now mind your business!” He hissed and picked up the phone when the youth turned around. He caught himself, fixed his mind right and said, “Get over here Lorenzo!”

The youth sauntered over sheepishly. “Yeah?”

“You did a good job. I’m going to have the car fixed and if you want
it let me know and it’s yours.”

Lorenzo’s expression was incredulous. “Qué, for real?”

The tension lessened in Alfonzo’s body at the young man’s joy. “For real.”

“Hell yeah I want it!” Lorenzo exclaimed and then rephrased his acceptance to sound more respectful. His father taught him well. “Sí, gracias Mr. Diaz. That car is wicked!”

Alfonzo nodded and scoffed. “Make sure your dad’s okay with my present. I know you’re grown but if he’s alright with it, then I’ll feel good.”

“Oh, he’ll be alright with it –trust that,” Lorenzo said and then nearly ran
off; pumping his fists like he’d won the lottery and not a blood vehicle.

With somber detachment Alfonzo watched the men unloading the dead body from the plane. Nico sauntered over and stood in the dark beside him on the runway in the center of fields. Alfonzo peered wearily at the constellation of stars twinkling above in the dark. Nico didn’t speak, just stood beside him in brotherhood.

When a grown man cries it’s because there’s something pulling so hard on him, and he feels either helpless or too damn angry to do anything else. The glistening of Alfonzo’s eyes were brilliant blue crystals on a bitter face. He didn’t have any words; famiglia was falling, one by one like leaves on an autumn tree. The invisible fingers gripping his throat, choking and shaking him were not as injurious as the emotional blow he dealt himself.

You’re supposed to keep her safe…you didn’t protect her…your arrogance is why
people you care for are getting hurt or dying!

Corrado was
right; he was Luzo, cold and selfish.

These solemn reflections were in his head as he peered upward, trying to reason out what to do next. Trust her, that’s what Selange asked him to do and depend upon faith. His cheek stung, did a tear drop or had the injury bled again?

Alfonzo’s palm went to the ripped skin and liquid was felt. Helpless is not what he was, faith depended on many things. He had faith in his love. But allowing her to sit in jail when he was free wasn’t any plan in which he’d agree. 

Why did Selange always care so much about other people?

Why was she always giving her heart to have it injured?

Why did she believe in him even despite his wickedness?

Answers didn’t arise. He figured bad cannot understand good because virtuous is a foreign language. Selange inspired him to be less cynical and truly he had changed for the better, but he wasn’t naïve either, hatefulness exists and there are cheerleader rallies to witness a downfall.

Trust?

Hmm, he trusted his babe meant well.

But, she better trust there’s no way in hell he’d sit on his ass and do nothing.

Sorry, I’ll hold off coming for a minute but there’s but babe you’re not going into battle without your right arm –me!

“Selange got detained yesterday when she visited Teresa. She sent a message warning me to stay clear of the U.S. and that I shouldn’t trust Matteo. I want to speak to that fucker!” Alfonzo said to the air.

Nico’s lips descended at the corners. “Matteo’s dead.”

The activity taking place was canceled out. Men boarding and then disembarking were night footage from the film depicting the seedy side of criminal living. The cleaners were the people who erased the evidence of Alfonzo’s involvement in
murder; nobody wants to hear self-defense after a killer flees the scene and takes a corpse across the sea.

The janitorial workers were diligent in their tasks because they were afraid of Nico, who expected only a stellar job performance.

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain on the way home. You look awful cugino.” Nico looked sideways at him. Yeah,
pallor remained. Alfonzo shouldn’t be on his feet. From what the Capo told him, Alfonzo nearly bit the dust. Another broken rib, some nasty bruises to his face and loss of blood can do that. But to stand after, not fall over, that’s a real soldier and a sign of how tough Alfonzo truly was.

Alfonzo scoffed. “Yeah.” He needed to get off his feet. Food and a quiet space is what he required to think. In the morning he was meeting with Bianca and the family members he’d yet to meet. The opportunity to tell Nico about his pending troubles arrived. “Bianca’s in Italy. The Protezione were slaughtered last week, everybody but an old man, a woman and a kid.”

“Cosa, the Protezione are dead?”

“Every one of them except you and of course Bianca. By the way,” Alfonzo stated as he began walking slowly toward an SUV. “She’s prego with your baby.”

Nico didn’t have a reaction because that part he’d already known.

Alfonzo waved at the pilot before sliding in the backseat of the vehicle, phone in hand with eyes on the contacts he had to message. He began with the lawyer. Nico disappeared when Alfonzo began to converse with the attorney. Selange hadn’t called
Scheppe; this was worrisome because she had his number. Alfonzo placed more calls while waiting for Nico to return. The last person he spoke to before Nico reappeared was Emilio.

There’s a job he needed
to do, pronto.

The fleet of shiny metal on wheels started rolling after Nico gave the okay. The fast moving vehicles were armored weapons escorting an important man.

Seated, Alfonzo’s eyes were on the blurs of greenery and hills. The diversity of the island’s landscape made it unique in a way. He’d traveled throughout the provinces and saw everything from volcanoes to mountainous peaks.

He watched the
endless fields of orchards with the occasional farmhouse and baglio that enhanced the view. Before June the grassy areas turned from green to scorched brown. In day hours the occasional herds of sheep or goats were visible. Alfonzo inhaled the scenery as a connoisseur of wine breaths aromas before the liquid touches the palette. Relaxation for a Don was quiet, reflection and observation.

Matteo was dead.

Alfonzo supposed the time arrived to hear the details of what occurred in his absence. “Is Sal still at your home?” he asked.

“Yeah, he is,” Nico answered. Alfonzo had cued he was ready to talk shop. Nico began to fill him in –on everything including the many guests at his villa and Giuseppe’s reason for not coming.

Giuseppe was peeved at Alfonzo.

C
hapter Twenty-Six

"Don't you f
ucking leave Emilio. Alfonzo has people, he doesn't need any more help...dammit...stop and think about me, our family!" Jessica shouted at his back as he headed to the door. All he had were the clothes on his back, passport and wallet.

Emilio
halted, turned his head from side to side, aware Jessica didn’t understand anything about a man’s code of honor. Emilio thought about that walk along a beach and a conversation he had with Alfonzo.

“I’ve learned some hard lessons over the years about loyalty. That word is thrown around too much; volunteered to a person when things are good, but there aren’t many people who honor what they say because feelings change and so do people
," Alfonzo had said.

But, he wasn't one of those people. His word meant something. How could he sit here pretending with the woman he loved when the news was abuzz with mafia tensions? A woman was
in trouble; she didn't she understand anything about helping out blood?

When he faced his woman, s
he cried. The fear he’d die written on her pretty face. She didn’t want to be a single parent, burying a young fiancé but if he stayed…ah if he stayed….man…he couldn’t. Jessica couldn't see beyond the moment, but he did. He saw a person who'd die every day if he stayed. A man's whose word didn't mean shit, a shadow figure with a wife.

“I’m coming back Jessica. Stop acting like I’m not.”

“Emilio, I might have this baby any day, and I want you there.”

“I’ll be there.”

She rolled her eyes, sucked her teeth and then made him promise.

“Promise,” he said and they were cool.

That’s how Jessica was, persistent, possessive and stubborn.

That’s what he loved.

***

Parts of the avenue had flooded due to a poor drainage system. Perhaps leaves or garbage clogged the traps or something. Emilio stood at the door of the brownstone where the over pour transformed the street into a shallow concrete river. The splashing from cars wading through the water resounded behind Emilio.

He rang the bell many times until satisfied nobody was inside before using a burglar’s key to gain entry. He didn’t waste time, quickly checked the rooms, found them empty and he retrieved the cell as instructed from the bathroom.

He stepped outside, did a preliminary survey as he tugged the brim of his cap down a bit more, and then scurried to the stolen vehicle he’d swiped from the long-term parking lot at the airport. That’s the best place to borrow a car; usually the owner is out of town long term –no brainer. Carjacking and all that crap isn’t necessary for the real car thieves. An idiot whips out a gun to shoot
somebody to take a vehicle on a joyride. Hell, he didn’t consider those professionals; they’re dumb, plain and simple. Spending the cash and humping the pussy is freedom not served on the menu locked up with other men.

Smart thieves want to get in and out without the violent drama. Committing any armed robbery and then someone gets killed in the commission of the crime is hard time.

Pussy or lock up with dudes?

Money or
a limited commissary a stranger controls?

Freedom or
somebody up in your face barking orders and a hard bed in a cramped cell with an inmate named Butch?