The Mark of Cosa Nostra

Eleven

There was very little bumping when the Lear jet touched down on the grassy field. It settled to a bouncing roll as it passed swiftly by the two vehicles. I could see what they were now: a black Mercedes and a Volkswagen bus.

When the jet had slowed enough, Tai Sheng turned it slowly around and taxied back to the waiting cars. Two Turks came out of the Volkswagen and rushed to chock and tie down the plane.

I saw this from my window as the jet braked to a halt. There was a whining sound as a door with aluminum steps was pushed out and lowered.

Konya was the first on his feet. He passed by us, his bald head shining from the overhead lights, and moved out the door and down the steps. The other two greeted him and all three began to speak in Turkish.

Tai Sheng came out of the cockpit door and without looking at Rozano or me bounded down the steps and began walking rapidly toward the Mercedes. At that instant the back door of the black Mercedes opened and a sharply dressed Oriental got out. He greeted Sheng with a handshake and a curt nod. The two men began talking.

“Let’s go,” Nicoli said to me.

I was hoping to be able to turn around and at least get a look at Tanya when we stood to leave the plane. But Nicoli moved out into the aisle and stood by the backs of the seats while I got up. It would have been too obvious for me to look back over his head to see Tanya. She had been proved unloyal. I was supposed to dismiss her existence.

Sheng’s man, the Oriental who had been in the plane with us — the same one who had snapped my photo in the lobby of the hotel — pushed past us and hurried down the steps. That left just Tanya and Quick Willie behind us.

As Nicoli and I stepped from the plane, I saw the three of them — Sheng, the man who had gotten out of the Mercedes, and now the other Oriental — all in a serious conference with their heads together. Then Sheng said something to the one who had taken my picture. The man gave him a short bow and walked to the Volkswagen bus. He climbed in behind the wheel and waited.

Nicoli and I had come down the plane steps. The sky had taken on the dark gray of twilight. Tiny gnats tickled against my face, trying to get in my eyes. The air was warm and muggy. I felt my palms sweating. There was too much about this scene that I didn’t like.

Suddenly Nicoli turned back toward the plane, just as Quick Willie’s heavy feet pounded on the hollow aluminum steps. I turned around with him. Although it was almost dark, I got a better look at Tanya than I’d had since we were separated.

“What do I do widda broad, boss?” Willie asked.

A rage was building inside me. She had found the strength to lift her head slightly. Both eyes were puffy and had a yellow-and-purple tint to them. There was still some dried blood under her lower lip where a tooth had come through. Her jaw was swollen.

“Let me take care of her, Rozano,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, this is Willie’s specialty. Take her down to the dock. Get rid of her like the others, an overdose of heroin and the Black Sea. AXE can add another dead agent to its list.”

“Right, boss.” Willie grabbed Tanya roughly by the arm and pulled her, stumbling and staggering, down the rest of the steps and past us toward the Volkswagen bus.

We watched them as the Oriental started the bus and drove to meet them halfway. The side door was slid open and Willie shoved Tanya inside.

“It should have been me,” I said to Nicoli. “I should have been the one taking care of the broad.”

He ignored me. The coolness was still there. We walked across the ankle-high grass toward the Mercedes where Sheng and his friend were still talking.

The bus was almost out of sight now, driving toward the dock. I remembered seeing the dock area from the air. There had been a cabin cruiser. That was probably where Willie was taking her.

As we approached the Mercedes, Sheng and the other Oriental suddenly stopped talking. Then Nicoli started chuckling to himself.

“Quick Willie enjoys this part of his job. He will have some fun with that broad before he finally knocks her off.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, Quick Willie does like his broads.”

I knew I had to get to that boat somehow. Any list Sheng had would have to wait. I was judging distance and time. Nicoli was closest. I’d kill him first. But by then Sheng and his friend would be reaching for their own weapons. Could I get them both before Konya and the other two Turks came running?

There was now just enough twilight to see by. We were standing in a small group. It was too dark to see expressions on faces; eyes were just dark shadows. The gnat population had doubled and seemed to like our heads.

The trunk of the Mercedes was open. Konya, the bald Turk, was helping the other two carry plain cardboard cartons from the trunk to the plane.

Tai Sheng was looking straight at me. Without moving his head, he said, “Rozano, I would like to speak with you alone.”

Nicoli took a backward step away from us. “Why?” he asked.

“I wish to speak with you about your friend from America.”

In the darkness the movement was so quick it had been impossible to see. But suddenly Rozano Nicoli had pulled his revolver and was standing apart from us aiming it at me.

“What is this now?” I asked.

Even Sheng seemed a little surprised, but he recovered quickly. He stood silently with his hands locked in front of him. Konya and the two Turks were at the plane.

“I can’t trust anyone any more,” Nicoli said. “Even those I thought were closest to me have betrayed me.” The gun went momentarily from me to Sheng.

He stiffened. “What!” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Rozano, you do this to me?”

“Yes,” Nicoli shouted. “To you. I have been double-crossed by everybody, even you. First I learn that you want the list. You tell Tommy that I sent you to collect it. That was a lie. And then, on the plane, I hear that two Orientals have torn Tommy’s apartment apart looking for something. He tells me he thinks they were after the list. I think they were your men, Tai Sheng.”

“They were,” the smooth, oily voice said.

“Aha! Then you admit you were after the list.”

“I admit nothing. How dare you question me! You would be stealing fruit from the outdoor markets of Palermo if it hadn’t been for me. I set up the heroin route. I have the connections in America. I will be the one to make you wealthy.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Nothing more than the same respect I have for you.”

Nicoli raised the gun slightly. “You still haven’t answered me. Were your men after the list?”

“Certainly not.” There had been no panic or even concern in Sheng’s voice. It was as though he were chatting about a rice harvest or the weather. “What do I care about your list? It means nothing to me.”

“But you admit that the two men who searched Tommy’s apartment worked for you?”

“Indirectly, yes.”

“And what were they looking for, if not the list?”

“Evidence, Rozano. Which I now have. Did your good friend, Acasano, tell you he killed those two men and dumped them in a trash can?”

“They were out to kill me,” I said. “One of them pulled a knife.”

“Do you both think I am a fool? Huh? You think I don’t know when I am being stabbed in the back?” Rozano was hoarse with rage.

Konya and the two Turks were on the plane, out of sight, probably stacking the cartons. I could see the Volkswagen bus returning, its headlights’ getting brighter. Tanya and Quick Willie would not be inside. Visions of what Willie might now be starting worked their way into my mind. I had to get over to that boat.

Sheng raised his oily voice only slightly. “Rozano, you stand with the gun aimed at me. What of this Acasano? What of the charges I made against him? Are they to go unanswered? I agree, you have been betrayed. But not by me.”

“I don’t trust either of you,” Nicoli spat out. “If I had any sense, I would kill you both right here and now.”

Both Sheng and his Oriental friend seemed to relax. Their arms hung loosely at their sides. Sheng took half a step forward.

“That would not be a wise thing to do, Rozano.”

For a few seconds there was silence. Each of us had our own thoughts. I could guess what was running through Nicoli’s mind. He didn’t know which of us to trust, if either. His organization was tight-knit. To kill anyone as high-ranking as me or Sheng would leave a gap that would be difficult to fill. Especially since he didn’t have any positive proof that either of us had betrayed him. Sheng I couldn’t read. The man was impossible to psych out.

The Volkswagen bus was getting closer now. I could hear the mechanical ticking of its engine. The lights were beginning to illuminate the four of us standing next to the Mercedes. The Turks were still on the plane out of sight.

I only had one thought on my mind: getting away and making it to the boat before Quick Willie had his unique brand of fun with Tanya and shoved her system full of heroin.

Then Nicoli swung the gun toward me. “I think I trust you least of all, Tommy. There is something in what Tai Sheng says. He tells me he thinks you are lining up the families against me, not for me.”

“That’s rubbish,” I said loudly. “Rozano, my old friend, we go back too many years for this. We came up in the organization together. Who is better to lead all the families, huh? Me?” I shook my hand. “No, I am good with figures and books, but I cannot organize. The families would not flock to me as a leader. No, my friend, you are the only one to take over. You and I are friends. We go back a long time. What would I gain by cutting you out? Nothing. Now ask your friend, Sheng, what he would gain if you got squeezed out.”

“Friendships are no good any more!” Nicoli shouted. “This thing of ours is in jeopardy, it has no leadership.” Tears started coming to his eyes. “Tommy, Tommy, you were my dearest and sweetest friend. But it is you who have crossed me.”

I frowned in disbelief. “You are wrong, my friend. It wasn’t me.”

He nodded sadly, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “Yes, Tommy, it was you. It was when we were talking on the plane. I asked you who you thought would be a good candidate for the East Coast. You agreed that Frank The Cook Desmond would be good. I tricked you, Tommy. It was a bad thing to do but I felt I had to. You see, The Cook was killed last week in Las Vegas. A taxicab ran over him.”

My mind raced. That was where I had slipped. But I wasn’t dead yet. “That doesn’t mean I betrayed you. The Cook was on the list, you were considering him for the East Coast. Sheng’s men probably hit him. I’ll bet the cab driver was Oriental.”

But Nicoli was still shaking his head. The tears on his cheeks sparkled against the lights of the approaching Volkswagen bus. “That is not the point, Tommy. The point is I learned of the death by an overseas phone call — from my good friend, Thomas Acasano.”

“Who are you, pal?”