ASCENSION (44 page)

He thought about
her oratory
and realized
it held
merit.
T
hese
atypical
discussions enlightened him into the workings of her mind.
An analytical
and
insightful
mind.
A profound and questioning mind ascribed to
philosophers and
Humanist
s.
Then again, this was her point…assigning labels…fitting people into a box when there
should be
no box
es to close them in like cattle. He understood
her refusal to accept mindless conditioning, being corralled into a group or category and becoming a check in a hyphenated box when she was an individual with a name…Selange.

S
elange
smiled at him
,
“What are you thinking
and why are you staring at me like that
?”

“
I’m thinking h
ow
hot
you are
,” he took her hand, “Mrs. Diaz.”

“You’re kind of hot, too.” She teased then
nibbled on his earlobe.

“And fr
isky
,” he added.

“Thanks for the compliment.
Meow
.
”

He laughed as she
discreetly rubbed the bulge between his legs and whispered naughty
things in his ear.
He cupped her hand and
put
it to his mouth,
“
Me
estás
matando
ahora.
Seriously, you are
…
really killing me.
”

“
I’m glad I
can
still turn you on.”

“Ah,
babe
you have no idea.”

He
craned his neck to see the lights of the
club
marquee
. A
local band headlin
ed
t
he
exclusive club frequented by
wealthy
Puertorriqueño
. He’d frequented the club many
times when entertaining out of town clients who wanted to see the sights and sample the islands
night life. Often, he avoided
high profile
club
s frequented by tourists and rowdy youth
, always
conscious of security
.

Vincent
passed on valet parking and
opted to stay with the vehicle
. H
e
waited across
from
the club
where he had a
three dimensional
view of the
building
. Vincent settled
in for a long night with his friends Smith and Wesson
.

***

Five hours later on the drive home Alfonzo leaned back against the headrest as
Giuseppe gave Vincent a play-by-play of the evening.
Alfonzo
stroked Selange’s arm as she lay
s
leeping
with h
er head in his lap; peaceful and still.

Toni
ght they danced
and flirted like a newly married couple. Being with her was
a
lways so easy
. They even shared laughs
at Giuseppe’s expense
when
he
dance
d
with a very attractive female patron
,
who Alfonzo confided to
Selange
was a
transvestite.
Giuseppe
gave his account to
Vincent
who
howled with laughter.
Giuseppe
slapped Vincent on the back playfully chastis
ing
his lack of empathy.

Alfonzo listened to their friendly banter as he peered out the tinted window as the
SUV rolled toward home. Up ahead he could see the solar lamps illuminating the property.
There was an uneasy quiet that caused him to sit straight and ease Selange down to the seat.
It was his gut again, the same instinctive warnings which kept him alive on the streets.

“Vin,
G
i
o
heads up!” Alfonzo warned.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

Alfonzo listened
and watched the side of the dark road;
something didn’t feel right. He reached around
to the cargo hold
and lifted
the cloth
flooring
and
retrieve
d
two semi-automatic pistols a
long with
ammo. He passed one to Giuseppe
a
long with
a fresh ma
gazine.

Vincent
’s
gun
hadn’t moved from his lap as
he increased speed.
Alfonzo took out his cell
to
call ahead
to the house
. No answer.

“Turn around
Vin
,”
he
ordered calmly
. They
were heading into an ambush.
He glanced down at his wife, ‘
this is really fucked-up!’
He thought then shook her awake.

“Are we home?” She asked sitting up.

Vincent made a quick
U-turn
.

“Take my cell
, I want you to stay down on the floor
and dial 911.”

He barely finished his sentence when gunfire erupted on either side of the road
striking the vehicle.
She shrieked
then crouched to the floor as Alfonzo instructed
. A
flood of headlights emerged from the brush in pursuit.
Alfonzo rolled down
the
window a fraction
to
fire several shots
in its direction.
The
pursuing
car swerved across the roadway
then recovered roaring
forward.

Giuseppe also fired a succession of shots from the passenger side s
hattering
one
car’s windshield
and bumper
but the car
raced on. T
he second vehicle pulled from behind
gaining s
peed
and they sandwiched the SUV battering it with a hail of bullets
.

Vincent gunned the
engine
then
drift around a curve
taking the
vehicle off-road.

Alfonzo’s voice
held no sign of tension,
“
H
ead for the construction site.”

He didn’t want to jeopardize the public by bringing gunfire into Old San Juan
. There were some things he chose not to have
on his conscience.
The SUV could handle the shots but an innocent bystander could not.
T
he bullet-proof windshields, reinforced
armor
body and tires
were able to withstand
low to
high
assault
weapon
s
. However,
anything
high
er than
a
M-16
might penetrate the
polypropylene resin fiber sheets.

The construction site was a few miles down on the outskirts of
town,
there they
could utilize the heavy duty equipment parked on the grounds as cover.

“Selange you okay?” He asked amidst the bouncing vehicle as the
y
barreled over rough
t
errain and
an
unpaved road.

She nodded, “Yes,
the police are on their way…but
…but
they’re twenty
m
inutes out
…
can we wait that long?”

Alfonzo turned to see the smaller vehicle
experience
difficulty navigating the rugged terrain
and it decelerated allowing the jeep to grab the lead.
The construction site was five minutes away. So far, they were managing okay but he
w
orried their luck might run out
.
He did not voice this fear, instead he touched her arm reassuringly, “It’ll be fine, just
stay down babe.”

The metal security gate surrounding the construction
site
loomed in the distance.
Vincent
barreled
toward it just
as
a
deafening
explosion
erupted and the
SUV
became air-borne.

CHAPTER THIRTY—
EIGHT

A re-enactment of the old days is what Carlo considered it.
A time when life and youth were in abundance.
Carlo and Alberti walked side by side
to
join
t
he
men
assembl
ed in the courtyard of his home. They were good friends, some he had not seen in years and others he thought retired to the southern shores to await the
death of age.
In a car sat Carlo’s four men waiting
for
their boss to complete his reunion.

Terry ‘
Snowzer
’
Polini
was the first to step forward in greeting, “I wanted in on this
. I
brought two of my best,” he pointed to an average size man with
tattoos on his neck, “this is
Cane, great driver and explosive professional,” then he introduced a taller muscular fellow in
black fatigues, “this here is Wax. He gets his nickname because in the ring the kids say he waxe
s his opponents
’ ass
.”

Alberti chuckled, “Youth and their slang. I believe we’re considered dinosaurs
to this new generation.
”

Snowzer
wrinkled his large nose, “I suppose
,
but I can still shoot straighter
and more accurate than
most
of the
punks
.”

“We appreciate your assistance but you know the danger, you can reconsider,” Carlo
offered.

At sixty
-four
,
Snowzer
did not look a day over f
if
ty.
In the old days they teased him about his snout, saying it could sniff
a rat miles
away. Whenever a rat got caught
Snowzer
tortured it the
n
viciously disposed of it
s remains
. Over the years he maintained a low
-profile in
Tropea
enjoying the solitude of a
fisherman until today.
“Not on your life, I’m in.”

Carlo nodded then moved on to greet a man
he
knew well.
Ernesto Serano aka The Butcher. The twin’s father and the young newly married man who took in his brother to
raise
as his own.
He came alone which was not surprising.
They embraced and Carlo smiled, “It has been too long.”

The older man’s hair was gray and the passage of time left
it’s
wear upon his face. He stood unbowed by it, the fire of youth in the piercing green eyes.
“Far too long.
I’ve grown tired of carving meat for cranky old people.” He moved to his car and retrieved
a
his
tools
of the trade
wrapped securely in a leather case. He opened it on the hood of the car, grinning as he fingered each
lethal instrument.
“
I
have
wanted to use these again. I’ve cleaned and sharpened them every week for twenty years. I want to be the one to carve the flesh of Umberto
Cigliari
.”

Ca
rlo smirked, “After
I
put my bullet through his treacherous head
you may
butcher him as you please
.”