The Mark of Cosa Nostra

Twelve

The bus was coming alongside now, its headlights making the area around us bright. It was about to stop. The Turks were still out of sight in the plane.

Tai Sheng was smiling broadly in self-satisfaction. “Rozano, I learned something else about your good friend, Thomas Acasano. The photo taken in the lobby of the hotel was enlarged and then compared with a photo taken ten years ago. My men used magnifying glasses to look for differences. There were many. If you look closely you will see that the bone structure of the nose is quite different. Also the curve of jawline. The distance across the bridge of the nose from eye-pupil to eye-pupil measures almost a quarter of an inch off between the two photos. This man is an impostor, Rozano.”

“Yes,” the little man said, nodding. The gun never wavered from my stomach. “But please go on, Sheng. This is fascinating.”

Sheng’s perfect teeth shined brightly in the headlights. He was enjoying himself. “Since we knew who this man wasn’t, we decided to find out exactly who he was. He had one drink at your villa, straight bourbon, I believe. My man here lifted the prints from the glass. When we sent them along with the photo by coded wire to Intelligence Headquarters in Peking, the results were very interesting.”

Nicoli took a step forward. “So? So? Don’t play games with me, Sheng. Who is he?”

“Peking has a very large file on him. Oh, I don’t suppose a man in your position would have ever heard of him, but I have. You see, Rozano, the girl pretending to be Sandee was not working alone. She was working with another AXE agent, a very good agent we call Killmaster. His name is Nick Carter.”

All sadness left Nicoli’s face. He took a step toward me. “You took me for a fool, huh? Am I so stupid I cannot see through such a disguise? All right, Mr. Carter, you have bought it. But answer me one thing. Where is my old friend, Thomas Acasano?”

“Dead, I’m afraid,” I said.

“You bastard!” The gun jerked in his hand, a blast of fire spat out of the barrel, there was a loud BLAM sound through the air.

And even as it happened I couldn’t believe it. A powerful hand used all five fingers to grab the flesh at my side and pinch unmercifully. Then it was as if a hot poker had been pressed against me and somebody was slowly pushing it through me.

The force of the slug spun me around with such speed my arms went flailing out above my sides. My right hand struck Sheng on the chest, but the blow didn’t slow me. With my ankles twisted together I fell face forward against the fender of the Mercedes, then slowly slid down to curl by the wheel.

All this took fractions of a second. I was not dead, I had not even lost consciousness. My knees were up close to my chest, my hands pressed against my stomach.

The shot had taken a chunk of meat from my side. Already my shirt and jacket were soaked with blood.

Immediately after firing the shot, Nicoli was no longer interested in me. He swung the gun toward Sheng.

The pain was running deep into my guts. I could feel it moving up my spine. My back was pressing against the tire of the Mercedes. The Volkswagen bus had reached us now. It had almost stopped.

Slowly I moved my hand up my chest until I reached the opening of my sport coat. With my hand under the coat I could feel the hard warmth of the Luger. Keeping my eye on the group above me, I carefully pulled Wilhelmina from her holster and got her against my stomach. Both hands hid the gun from sight.

“I have been deceived by everyone,” Nicoli shouted. “I think that Nick Carter was right, Sheng. You want the list. You sent two of your men to that apartment to find it. Then you tried to bluff him out of it when you picked him up at the hotel.”

“That’s not true, Rozano.”

The Oriental with Sheng was partly hidden behind him. Slowly his hand began inching toward his chest. He moved a little more behind Sheng.

Nicoli was nodding. “Yes, it’s true. I can’t trust any of you! I will have to do it all now, starting from scratch.”

Another shot rang out, another blast of fire spat from a gun barrel. Nicoli dropped his gun and clutched his stomach. He doubled over with such force his rimless bifocals dropped from his head. The headlights from the bus made him look like he was on his knees supplicating Sheng. He lifted one knee to try to get on his feet, and he stayed like that looking up at Sheng.

Blood was oozing between his fingers and over the back of his hands. He clutched his stomach tighter.

The Oriental who had stepped from behind Sheng to fire the shot, moved two paces to the side, keeping his revolver aimed at Nicoli. When he reached the gangland leader’s fallen gun he kicked it aside. And by that time Sheng had his own gun in his hand. He aimed it at Nicoli’s face.

“You fool!” the oily voice shouted, only some of the smoothness had gone out of it. “You pompous, stupid bastard. Did you think I would actually let you take over anything? Did you? You were so inflated with your own ego you actually believed you could become a leader.”

“K-kill... you...” Nicoli mumbled.

“Idiot!” Sheng said sharply. “The only one you have killed is yourself. You could have had the world at your feet. Yes, I was willing to let you be the figurehead. Wealth would have been yours. More than even a moron like you could ever imagine.”

Nicoli wet his thin lips with his tongue. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came.

“But you would have been in charge of nothing. In name you would have been leader, but I would have guided the operations. That is how things will be anyway, only you will no longer be a part of it. I will use the list to find those agreeable to me, and establish them as figureheads. I hadn’t planned to kill you and take over just yet, but some things simply cannot be helped.”

“M-my organization... mine...”

“Your nothing,” Sheng snorted. “You were a puppet, you did as I arranged for you to do. Nothing has changed. Carter’s meddling has only postponed the inevitable. I will simply get somebody else.”

Nicoli pulled one hand away from his stomach to reach for Sheng. The effort rocked him forward to his hands and knees.

“Yes,” Sheng laughed. “That is where you belong, on all fours like the dog you are. Look at you, wallowing at my feet. You are fat and sloppy and life has been much too good for you.”

Nicoli made an effort to get back up. But his arms buckled and he fell to his elbows. There was now a pool of blood on the grass under his stomach.

Sheng moved the gun closer to the back of the balding head. “In time the Chinese People’s Republic will take over America. Yes, it may take years, but it will be much more simple to work from within than to fight a war. Your Cosa Nostra will answer to Peking. The profits will help build our armies and buy those in America who are for sale: senators, congressmen... there were quite a few from the way you talked.

“It will only take patience, something we Chinese are noted for. But when the time comes for Mao Tse-tung to go to America, the take-over will have been complete.”

Once again Nicoli tried to rise. He had lost a lot of blood. Sheng stood over him with the revolver aimed at his head, legs slightly apart, the hint of a smile now on his face. Nicoli got one hand in the grass and tried to push himself up.

“You Americans are such fools,” Sheng said. The revolver jerked in his hand. A spurt of fire spat like an electrical charge from the snout of the gun to Nicoli’s bald head. Then a chunk of his head seemed to wiggle back and forth. It was like a wind of hurricane force lifting a shingle off a roof. The chunk wiggled forward and back, then quickly peeled away leaving a wake of pink mist and scarlet pieces.

Nicoli straightened and rocked back on his knees. Then he pitched forward, his face slamming hard in the grass. The sound of the shot had been lost in the open flatness of grass. The acrid stench of burned gunpowder filled the air.

I could hear the loud mechanical sounds of the Volkswagen bus now as it came toward me. It was almost on top of me. Slowly, I started to straighten my legs.

The three Turks had poked their heads out of the plane to see what all the shooting was about. Tai Sheng waved them back.

“Hurry,” he said to them. “Get on with your business. Time is short.”

I couldn’t keep lying there. Tai Sheng was watching the Turks now, but in time he would turn back to me. Already his Oriental friend was showing renewed interest in me. With Wilhelmina in my hand, I straightened my legs and rocked forward to my feet.

The Oriental with Tai Sheng saw me first. He gave put a short cry and started clawing at his chest under his coat. Sheng was beginning to turn now. I had the Luger aimed straight at his ear. The driver of the Volkswagen was already applying his brakes.

There was something in Nicoli’s coat pocket that I wanted. The list. And I knew Sheng wanted it too. For me to get it, he would have to be killed.

I fired the Luger, feeling it jerk my hand up and back. But Sheng’s friend had jumped into the path of the bullet protecting him. The slug from Wilhelmina ripped through his cheek, showing a jagged circle of white meat. Then it quickly turned scarlet as his head jerked to the side and smashed into Sheng.

The two were tangled with each other for a few seconds. Once again I tried to get a clear shot at Sheng. The driver of the Volkswagen bus was beginning to get out. His frame looked like a shadow behind the headlights. But there was enough light to see he had a gun in his hand.

I fired once at him, and saw his head jerk against the back of the seat. He fell forward, struck the top of the door in a downward slant, then fell backward. I helped him out on the grass by grabbing his collar and pulling. Two shots rang out behind me. Sheng was firing from behind the cover of the Mercedes.

I fired once, making a star pattern in the back window of the black car. That was when I remembered.

I didn’t need the list. It was just something AXE had made up for me to hand to Nicoli. But I knew Sheng wanted it, and I wondered if he wanted it bad enough to come after me for it.

Nicoli’s body lay two feet from the door of the bus. Sheng was still circling behind the trunk of the Mercedes. I pushed myself out of the bus and fell to my knees beside Nicoli’s body. Sheng fired another shot just as I got the list. It was close enough for me to feel the wisp of air along the back of my neck. I fired one hasty shot over my shoulder as I scrambled back into the bus.

With darkness the air had turned crisp. The scent of kelp came at me from the Black Sea. The first thing I did was kill the lights of the bus, then I flipped a U-turn and started for the dock area.

It was all flashing back to me now. Killing the three Turks as they came out of the plane, Sheng firing at me as I drove away, the bleeding from my side making me lightheaded, the tool box in the back of the bus with the hand tools, thinking that Sheng would either come after me for the list or forget me and go ahead with the heroin delivery.

And I was remembering the visions still in my mind, of Quick Willie with his mangled nose broken more times than even he could remember, his curled-meat ears, puffy eyes, creased and wrinkled hands touching and pulling at Tanya’s flesh. As Nicoli had said, Quick Willie would want to have his fun first.

Then finally getting to the boat. Shutting the engine off and coasting to where the yacht was docked — a fifty-foot cabin-cruiser, water lapping gently against her sides, the cry of a sea gull far away, the warmth of lights shining through round portholes, stars glistening off the mirror of harbor water, the muffled sound of low voices coming from one of the boat cabins.

I had stumbled from the Volkswagen and fell to the asphalt fining the wooden dock. Then I had crawled, leaving a trail of smeared blood along the forward deck of the cabin cruiser. Port side, close to the bow, dizzy spells coming and going, finding the porthole close to the deck, clutching my side to try to stop some of the bleeding, Wilhelmina in my hand... growing heavy... looking through the porthole and seeing the white, fish-belly flesh of Quick Willie looking down on Tanya.

And... Tanya... on a bunk; the blond hair making a frame for her young, bruised, lovely face; arms tied above her head, wrists together; stockings, blouse, bra on the deck close to the bunk... Quick Willie grunting how good she’s going to be while he pulled off her skirt, then reached for the waistband of her panties.

Just... needed a little... rest. My mind left me and I drifted off. The few seconds’ rest had become minutes. My head had been lying against my arm. Now I raised it, and with it I lifted the business end of my stripped Luger. The cabin was blurry. I rubbed my eyes until I could see everything very clearly. I had come back.