The Scorpion's Tale (20 page)

“I’ll be up in five minutes,” Nick said.

Alberto extended his elbow and Giovanna
walked him out of the room.

After giving orders to his men, Nick went
upstairs and entered the bedroom. Giovanna was in the bathroom
washing her face. Nick sat down at the computer to purchase the
tickets.

Giovanna emerged from the bathroom and stood
behind him. She began gently massaging Nick’s shoulders as he
maneuvered through his travel agent’s website. “I’m really going to
miss you.”

Nick nodded, too deeply engrossed in his
computer to acknowledge her.

She watched him book five round-trip business
class tickets departing JFK at seven-thirty in the morning. He was
careful to surround himself with his men without bunching them
together.

“You could have stood up for me, Nick.”

Nick was half-listening to her. Without
taking his eyes off the computer screen, he replied, “No, baby, I
agree with my uncle. It’s much too dangerous in Brazil. You’ll like
it here, trust me.”

She walked over to the night table next to
the bed and jotted something down on a piece of paper. “I’m going
to bed. Are you joining me?”

Nick turned around to look at her. “Why don’t
you unpack? I’m just finishing up here.”

“Unpacking can wait until tomorrow, but I
can’t. Here’s your window of opportunity Mr. Manzione,” she said,
as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “You have three seconds and
I’m counting…one…”

Before she reached two, Nick practically
tackled her onto the bed. They rolled together and she wound up on
top of him. She quickly straddled him, pinning his arms under her
knees. She glared at him, breathing hard. “Now we’re going to do
this my way.”

Nick nodded, speechless.

She ripped his shirt off and watched his
awestruck face. “Just something to think about while you’re all
alone in Rio. Bon Voyage!”

Detective Johnston was at Denny’s, eating a
patty melt with fries, thinking:

Who the hell would want
me
dead?
Chesney knew that his partner was meeting Capresi on the trail.
Harry had all the details at his fingertips to give the Scorpion.
But, if the Scorpion had been on that trail and killed Billy
Veeksburn and the women, why didn’t he kill Steven? That made no
sense. He knew Harry was the Scorpion’s informant because Chesney
was still alive. But why not kill Steven? It was time to find
Capresi and get out of town.

His cell phone rang.

“Johnston,” he answered.

“Mike,” the voice answered, “I’ve got some
information for you.”

“Johnny, what do you have?”

“Capresi left Vegas this morning. He
purchased a ticket with cash. We found him by checking the outbound
passenger lists. At least he’s using his real name.”

Detective Johnston breathed a sigh of relief.
“I guess he’s getting a little smarter, but not smart enough, thank
God. Where is he going?”

“He’s going to Roatan.”

“Roa-who? Where the hell is that?”

“It’s an island off Honduras.”

Johnston remained silent.

“C’mon Mike–you do know where Honduras is,
don’t you?” Johnny ribbed.

“Everyone knows that Honduras is in South
America. As a matter of fact, I think it’s near Chile or one of
those big countries.”

Johnny chuckled. “Honduras is in Central
America between Belize and Nicaragua.”

Johnston grimaced. “I knew that, Johnny. Now
where the hell is Belize?”

Johnny laughed. “Anyway, Mike, your man has a
three hour layover in Miami and then he’ll be moving south.”

“That’s great work.” The detective hung up
and analyzed this new information. Steven was trying to stay off
the grid and was certainly behaving like a suspect! He yawned. He
needed sleep. His brain was fried. Capresi could wait until
tomorrow. He also wanted to visit Chesney one more time before
leaving Vegas.

-------------------

Steven descended the stairway of the aircraft
at Roatan International Airport, and walked to the terminal. The
weather was magnificent–warm and breezy. Steven followed the
passengers to customs and waited patiently in the longer line, for
non-Hondurans. He reached the booth and a young man wearing a crisp
green uniform asked for Steven’s passport. The man casually glanced
at Steven’s small travel bags and took a closer look at Steven’s
face.

“How long will you be staying in Roatan?” he
inquired in broken English.

Steven frowned. “I’m not sure–probably two or
three days.”

The young man again surveyed Steven’s
luggage.

“What is the purpose of your visit and where
will you be staying?”

Steven decided that the truth was the best
approach. “I’m staying with my friend Pablo Munoz.”

The young man’s eyes bulged and his
expression changed.

“Esperame, señor. Wait here, por favor,” the
man exclaimed as he scurried into a nearby office. Moments later he
returned, followed by a middle-aged gentleman, dressed in a similar
uniform, with various insignia and an important-looking military
cap. Steven figured him for the top brass.

The officer retrieved Steven’s passport as
his young assistant directed the other passengers to wait in the
other line.

“Mr. Capresi,” he said, extending his hand to
Steven, “my name is Captain Esteban. Welcome to Roatan.” He spoke
better English than his protégé, and pointed past the customs
booth. “I will personally drive you to Señor Munoz.”

Steven unsuccessfully tried to initiate a
conversation with the Captain during the ride. They drove for quite
some time and eventually the car slowed and turned off the main
highway toward the ocean. After passing a few small areas of
overgrown vegetation, the road opened into a small complex and they
approached a guarded gatehouse. The guard raised the gate,
permitting the car to proceed down a well-paved road leading to an
ornate iron gate where three armed guards stood. They were now a
few hundred yards away from the pristine waters of the Caribbean
Sea. The gate swung open and one of the guards approached the
car.

“Oye, Juan, El Gringo viene,” Captain Esteban
laughed, pointing to Steven. The guard lowered his head into the
window, peered at Steven with an expressionless face, and smacked
the roof of the car twice signaling them to proceed. The car drove
down a circular, graveled driveway, immaculately landscaped with
palm trees and assorted flowering plants. The house had a mixture
of colonial and Victorian influences with a distinctly tropical
flair.

Captain Esteban parked the car, opened the
trunk, and placed Steven’s bags on the driveway. “Buena suerte,”
the captain said. A moment later he was exiting the gate, leaving
Steven and his luggage in the middle of the driveway.

Before Steven could move, the front door
opened and three men emerged. The first man appeared to be in his
mid-sixties, with medium-length white hair, and was casually
dressed in sandals, shorts, and a Guayabera shirt. The bodyguards
wore suits and ties, which seemed odd for the tropical climate.

The older man strode down the steps,
extending his hand toward Steven. “Steven Capresi. Welcome to my
home. I am Pablo Munoz.”

Steven smiled as he received Pablo’s firm
handshake.

“I am very happy to meet you, Señor
Munoz.”

Pablo put his hand up and made a face. “In my
home, you call me Pablo. There are no formalities here.”

“Thank you, Pablo.”

He then introduced Steven to the other two
men.

“These gentlemen are Miguel and Rafael, my
close friends and business associates.”

Both men nodded at Steven. Pablo turned
around to Miguel.

“Miguel, take Steven’s bags to his room.”

Miguel nodded and did as he was told.

Pablo turned back to Steven. “Have you
eaten?”

“Not yet,” Steven replied.

Pablo smiled. “Excellent. Do you like
seafood?”

“I’m Italian. I eat everything.”

Pablo Munoz patted Steven on the shoulder. “I
love the Italians. They are so much like my own people, with a true
appreciation for life and good food.”

“And also good company,” Steven added.

Pablo smiled. “Of course, good company is
essential.”

Pablo addressed Rafael. “Steven and I will
take our drinks on the veranda.”

Pablo smiled at Steven. “Come. Let me show
you my house and then we’ll relax on the veranda. I’m going to make
certain that you enjoy your stay.”

Steven followed Pablo into the house knowing
that he was one step closer to the Scorpion and most likely, his
own death.

Early next morning, Detective Johnston took a
cab to Harry Chesney’s office. At lunch, Harry had mentioned he got
to work very early. It was almost six thirty as the detective
squatted behind a thick bush on the side of Harry’s building.

Sure enough, the detective spotted Harry
walking up the street toward his office, dressed in faded jeans,
brown leather sandals, and a Led Zeppelin tee shirt. He reached the
door, fumbled for his keys, and unlocked it. But before Harry could
close the door, Detective Johnston sprang from his hiding place and
rammed himself against his surprised quarry. Harry feebly tried to
reach for his gun but Detective Johnston had the momentum, catching
him under the jaw with a powerful right uppercut. Harry hit his
head against the floor and groaned. Blood dripped from his mouth.
With one massive arm, the detective swung Harry’s body into a chair
and pointed his .38 special directly at Harry’s head.

“No more bullshit. What do you know about the
Scorpion?”

“I told you everything.”

The detective clenched his large fist and
placed it against Harry’s cheek. “I have no qualms about beating
the shit out of you, so don’t push me. You set up your partner and
were shocked when Capresi came strolling back to your cab.”

Harry frowned and shook his head defiantly.
“That’s ridiculous!”

Detective Johnston grabbed Harry by the shirt
and smashed the butt of his gun against Harry’s forehead, giving
him a gash above his right eye. “My next shot is going to break
your nose,” he said, raising the gun butt over Harry’s face.

“Hold on, hold on!” Harry yelled.

“I want the truth. Where is Capresi going? I
want to know what the Scorpion told you.”

Chesney closed his eyes. “Okay, fine. I
talked to the Scorpion. He didn’t want to deal directly with Billy
anymore so I became his contact.”

Detective Johnston nodded, pleased at the
accuracy of his theory. “That’s how the Scorpion knew Steven was
coming to Vegas?”

“Not true,” Harry said. “He knew Steven was
on his way to see Billy because Charlie P. had sent him from
Chicago.”

“Charlie P? Is that who Capresi saw in
Chicago?”

Harry Chesney winced, as he touched the gash
on his head. “All I know is that Charlie gave the Scorpion the
information.”

Detective Johnston looked confused. “Wait a
minute. You’re telling me Charlie met the Scorpion?”

“That’s right,” Harry replied.

“Face to face?”

“I guess so.”

“So, Charlie’s dead?”

“Apparently, the Scorpion left Charlie
alive.”

Detective Johnston looked incredulous. “I
thought we were dealing with a guy who takes every possible
precaution to conceal his identity! What kind of a killer gives
someone a second chance?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“Why would he leave Steven and Charlie alive?
Both murders would have been a breeze! Why are they still
alive?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know; it
doesn’t make sense. What are you going to do now?”

The detective hesitated. “I guess I should
kill you to make sure you don’t contact your friend the
Scorpion.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s not my friend.”

“He’s enough of a friend to have your partner
killed.”

Harry looked pained. “I feel like shit, but I
didn’t have a choice. The Scorpion owns me. If I don’t do his
bidding, he’ll kill me. His rules are very simple. He chooses you
and you serve him for life.”

Detective Johnston was unimpressed. “Why
shouldn’t I kill you, Harry?”

“You’re a good cop. You don’t want my death
on your conscience. I’m never going to speak with the
Scorpion!”

“Harry, don’t bet that I have a conscience.
Where is Steven going?”

“You know where he’s going,” Harry retorted.
“Passenger lists are easy to get.”

Detective Johnston was getting awfully tired
of playing games with the P.I. “If I could get that information,
you and the Scorpion could also get that information.”

“Okay, then let’s assume we both know where
Steven is going. Where does that leave us?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Well, if you’re going to blow my brains out,
you might want to do it sooner rather than later. My employees will
begin arriving pretty soon.”

“Fine, Smartass, who is he seeing in
Roatan?”

“The only person that either Billy or I know
there is Pablo Munoz.”

Detective Johnston smiled.

“A word of caution, detective,” Harry added.
“If Capresi has been invited to Roatan, he’s going as a guest of
Pablo. You’re not his guest and you won’t be welcome. Pablo has his
own army, and the local government is in his pocket. If you do the
wrong thing in Roatan, you will disappear. Be careful who you talk
to, what you say and who you piss off, because you have a natural
talent for being an asshole!”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Harry smiled. “You’ve got major league balls
coming back here. You knew I was bullshitting you yesterday and you
swung for the fences. I respect that. But down in Roatan, it’s a
dog-eat-dog world and Pablo is The Alpha Dog.”

Detective Johnston replaced his gun in his
holster. “How’d this guy get to be so connected?”