Ded Reckoning (29 page)

Someone
is drawing a crowd.
 

Hunter continues sitting, watching until the plane departs.  Stands, strolls to a newsstand and purchases a local paper while still watching the departure gate and surrounding area.  Then sits again for a time reading his
Tribune de Geneva
and
w
atching the ebb and flow of activity in the terminal.  He sees no other Russian and German duos.  Finally, when satisfied all is to his liking, he goes to another terminal and arranges a charter flight to Calabria as Alfonse Battaglia.

Alfonse's plans are different than Leonardo's, Laurent's, and Ian's.  But never from Hunter's.

 

 

Roberto Catalano steps out of the front door of the
Le Oasi B&B
to find Chiarina Russo's 1971 white Mercedes-Benz 280 SL Roadster and chauffeur waiting.  The driver eyes Roberto who is wearing beige linen slacks, pale blue short- sleeve shirt worn loosely and white slip-on loafers, no socks.  At first a polite smile of acknowledgment,  then a nod of approval of the person.  Roberto knows the man is more than a chauffeur.  His age hints of a left-over from when Giordano, Chiarina's husband, was alive.   Nonetheless Roberto is politely welcomed, the door held open, and as he slides in, the driver asks in reasonable English, "Do you minda the top down?"

Roberto smiles, looking up at the cloudless sky, "No. Is fine.  Wonderful in fact," and takes in a deep breath.

The driver closes the door and scurries to the driver's side, slips in, starts the engine which hums to life sounding like a piano's bass keys with the soft pedal applied.  They leap away from the
Le Oasi
as the driver says, "Not longa.  Only three or four kilometers unless you would likea to see the city centre.  Signora Russo wanta you to seea some of our town."

"Sounds good to me.  Drive on, ahhh ... " Roberto shrugs and raises his eyebrows.

"Benito."

"Good.  Yes, Benito, the tour sounds like just the ticket before ... whatever."

Benito frowns, not unnoticeably.  Nonetheless, the tour goes well and adds only a kilometer or two for the trip to Chiarina's villa.  Roberto Catalano realizes they are close when they leave the main roadway and slow for the travel down
Strada
Vicinale Frammina Morte
, which Roberto recognizes from a map he viewed.    Then turn again onto another paved but more narrow roadway,
Viale
Mediterraneo,
which parallels the Tyrrhenian Sea.  Benito slows, turns and eases onto a gravel road that leads to the Russo home, which is truly a villa by the sea.  Roberto sits back for a few seconds taking in the view of the white stucco walls and red tiled roof of the villa while Benito hustles around the hood of the 280 to Catalano's side of the Mercedes.

Why would she want to leave all this
?  
We should keep both.
 

Roberto's thought is interrupted by Benito opening the door of the car, and Chiarina opening the front door of the villa.  She and Roberto meet halfway between the car and the villa.  She opens  and stretches out her arms, palms gracefully up in a warm polite manner saying, "
Buona serva, Roberto
."  They hug gently, she brushing each of his cheeks with hers, then floats back, leaving her right hand extended.  Says, "
Ciao
."

Roberto clasps her hand, smiles, responds, "
Ciao
."  Then quickly in English, "Hello again."

She nods, whispers, "Hello, again, it is."  Her smile is as brilliant and soothing as the sun which is moments from resting its edge on the sea, directly beyond the villa.  The tone and mood is set.  It will be warm, two recent friends meeting again as if the acquaintance was lengthy as opposed to new, and both comfortable speaking English for the moment, Italian when necessary or perhaps in passion.  The path is clear.  Where it ends, one is perhaps unaware; the other, certain.

They enter the villa with Chiarina leading followed by Roberto, and of course Benito lagging but a few paces behind, still watchful.  The entry spills immediately into a moderately- sized living room with all white walls, dark wood  trim everywhere showcased by the similarly trimmed huge panoramic windows overlooking the veranda and the  sea.  The vaulted ceiling with dark rafters gives the room both a vision of size and a feeling of comfort.  It has a large, stone fireplace which sets on the tiled floor.  The furniture, with the fireplace as the focal point, is all large, pastel-colored soft stuffed chairs and sofa.  Chairs with foot stools, tables alongside with magazines that cry "read in comfort" and the couch whispers, "snuggle fireside".  She inadvertently interrupts the room's ambiance by asking, "Would you like to see the rest of my home now or later?"

Roberto, lost in the moment, fumbles with, "Why not now so you can show me where to leave my swim trunks.  You did say to bring them?"

"Yes.  We'll see if you need them.  But come, let me show you about."

The dining room is also in white with dark wood trim and a table that seats five.  The veranda can also be seen from here.  This room leads to an enormous kitchen, galley really.  Further, down a hallway beyond, in the back of the villa are three bedrooms, all with views of the coastline.  The master also has a white motif with dark wood trim around the windows and rafters.  A wrought iron king-size bed, matching tables.  A dark wood dresser setting under a huge mirror.  A large wood burning fire place and with the flowers, paintings, and pillowing, the room has a softness about it regardless of the white.  It has a colossal master bath to include a large Jacuzzi circular tub with a view of the sea beyond.

She shrugs, smiles, says, "I like to relax.  Here, by the fire, and the sea view."  She turns and says over her shoulder, "Leave your trunks in here.  On the bed.  Come," her hand trailing behind leading him and searching for a warm touch.

One of the other two bedrooms is for guests.  The other is obviously in use.  The two share a bath, but the bath is definitely feminine.   She and Roberto only peek in the doors of these rooms, and then she hurriedly leads him to the veranda, poolside to a small table in the corner, directly over the cliffs.  The view of the coastline is colossal.  She sits at the table, pointing to a chair for him.  As he sits, a maid appears on cue.  Chiarina says, "This is Estella; Estella Riebello, my aide, chef, helper but mostly a friend and confidant ... and frequently my dinner partner along with Benito.  Stell, this is Signor  Roberto Catalano."

Pisces swallows hard.  Grins, eyebrows raised.  Estella is lovely.  A petite but well-endowed natural redhead with greenish mischievous eyes.  Pisces gawks, then quickly Roberto smiles, utters, "
Ciao
".  The moment is instantaneous, and lost, except for the Pisces mind.  Stell graciously nods with a hesitant impish smile, perhaps having noticed the momentary ogle.

Chiarina says, "I hope wine will be fine.  As I said, I do want you to at least taste our local wine."

Roberto answers quickly, "That will be wonderful.  Let's see now, it has a wisp of the arid Sirocco wind and a taste of the sea."

"You listen well, especially to the romance of the grapes.  An artist's trait and outlook I would think."  She looks to Estella, "Two, and bring the bottle in the event we decide to relax for a spell."  She tilts her head away from Roberto, toward Estella, says, "Stell my dear, what are you planning for dinner, and when?"  

"A tuna casserole.  Fresh caught today, and Cannoli with ricotta cheese as you suggested.  Served when you wish, Chiar.  Signora."  An ever so slight grin creases her face.  

Chiarina looks at Roberto, head now tilted toward him, and with a playful look on her face says, "Late, after dark and a swim?"

Roberto nods approval.  "Both, or more readily all. My favorites."  Smiles and reaches over and gently squeezes Chiarina's hand.  Estella floats away as soft as a wisp of the arid wind, leaving Pisces mind to wander.  Wonder.

I bet she's part of the package, the team
.  
And at bat, a lot
.

Then Roberto grasps the moment and senses and sees only Chiarina.  

She says, "It is wonderful of you to come.  To visit.  And the timing is perfect."

"Thank you.  I have thought of it often since we met in
Taormina
."  He pauses, asks, "How so?  The timing?"

"I'm leaving for
Taormina
the day after tomorrow.  Going to look for a villa there.  I am moving from here. In truth from Palermo, and my past I suppose."

Roberto smiles.  "This is such a scenic location.  A warm home.  It would be a shame to leave it.  Not sure I would do that.  But, perhaps I can be of service.  You're welcome to stay as a guest in my villa while you search.  My staff would be at your disposal.  You could come and go as you please."  The spider pauses, then, "It would be my pleasure to help."  

Chiarina sits pensively, gazing toward the setting sun on the sea.

Weaving his web, Roberto adds, "Perhaps you should keep this as well.  It's charming."

After a few additional moments of pensiveness, the stunning widow smiles, nodding slowly.  "Perhaps.  It does sounds inviting.  Let me dwell on the thought.  Here comes Stell.  I hope you enjoy this wine."

"I'm sure I will."  He watches, but not too closely, as Estella places the tray on the table, sets the two glasses, opens the wine, then pours a sip for Signora Russo's taste.  Chiarina instead offers the glass to Roberto.  He sniffs the wine, gives it unrushed swirls in the glass and takes a sip.  Eyebrows up, and with a nod, says, "Wonderful.  Sicilian.  And it is of this region."

Chiarina exhales excitedly, motioning for Estella to complete the pouring.  When she does, she leaves as Chiarina and Roberto gently clink their glasses and both say at the same time, "To a warm friendship."

Chiarina tilts her head in astonishment, laughs.  "My word, what a coincidence, or perhaps an omen."

"An omen.  If so, a warm one too, or three perhaps."

CHAPTER 21

 

"
To be sure of hitting the target, shoot
 

first and call whomever you hit the target."

Anon

 

 

 

The Shanahan brothers sit in the car behind Paddy Collins' garage.  Windows down as the elder Muldoon goes over the instructions once again telling them to  drive to London's Heathrow airport and park in the long term area.  Wipe the car down carefully as a precaution.  Do not speed on the way; there is ample time for the 617 km trip.  Inside Heathrow, go directly to the BEA counter and check-in.  Sean interrupts, "What does BEA stand for?"

Muldoon angrily replies, "Jesus, Joseph and Mary.  May the saints ... where have you been, laddie?  The British European Airways."  Colin Muldoon wipes the drool from his mouth with his sleeve.   "Where the blazes have ya been for the last ... ahhh, never mind. It will be a direct flight to the city with the ... ahhh ..."

"Leaning tower.  Pisa.  And where I've been is here, fightin' the war. Here where it 'tis and well ought to be.  Not where you got my brother, Patrick, killed you blundering, babbling, drooling baboon."

Muldoon's son, Conor, leaps for the car window and is met with Sean's fist, knocking him back but not over.  His nose red and bleeding and lip split, both a result of his usual eyes-closed, pit bullish charge.

Sean starts to clamor out of the car as he shouts, "C'mon you over-stuffed cocker spaniel.  I'll ..."

His venting and fury is cut off by his brother Danny's hand clasped over his mouth and jerking him back into the passenger seat.  Danny pins Sean's to his side.  At the same time the elder Muldoon grasps his son in a bear hug with Paddy Collins stepping between the struggling and staggering Muldoons and the car.  The raging Conor screams, "I get me hands on you, I be killin' ya as quick as lookin' at ya ... ya skinny pig-shit runt of an Irishman."

The elder Muldoon has Paddy Collins, a monster of a man, pull and wrestle Conor away into the open garage.  Colon goes on and finishes his instructions with, "Danny, after you get to Pisa, go to the hotel I wrote down on the slip of paper.  Kerrigan should be there already or on his way.  Others too, perhaps.  They be all government people like we're useta dealing with and   Jews, Krauts maybe.  And a big Italian loot named Rocco.  He's some kind of enforcer.  Be careful of 'im.  But if necessary, kill 'em all, but Kerrigan for sure.  If 'tis messy, get out of the city and country anyway ya can.  Hike it if ya must.  If not too messy, take a train to Venice, and from there a train to the channel.  Ferry across and get to the car.  Be careful there that the car is not being watched.  If that be the case, leave it.  Then get home best ye can."

Danny nods, says, "I've got it.  We'll be off now."

"And be bringing some of our money back if ya can."

"I'll not be worryin' about money.  You have a pint or two ready when we get back."

The elder Muldoon is forced to grin. "Aye, then.  And lads, be as courageous as lions and tough as whet leather."  Muldoon winks and waves to the brothers.   Then he turns to Paddy Collins and his son who is still mildly struggling in the garage, says, "Enough, Conor me lad, or it will be the back of me hand."

The Shanahan brothers drive off.  Sean says, "I'm goin' to kill that ape's son one day soon.  When we get there we should kill Kerrigan and let the others be.  They're not our business.  Nor the business of the Army.  They're Muldoon's personal business.  He wants only to let it be known the Army has no boundaries, or better, he personally has none."

Danny nods, "You may be right, little brother.  We'll see.  Ya know, it may be that this Kerrigan lad is not the one.  He's Irish clean through I'd bet.  It might not be him.  It might all be Muldoon's doin' somehow and the tale is his nasty blarney.  I don't trust 'em.  He's up to more than Army business here."

"Aye.  We are of one mind then.  Yes?"