A Bullet for Carlos (18 page)

It took two tries for Paco to do it and he had to use all of his weight and strength, but then it was severed. Libby’s knees gave out and she began to fall. Tico held her up while Paco moved a chair under her. Blood spread across the table, some dripping to the floor. Tears poured down her face, and she glared at Craig as if she would kill him.

Carlos walked around while he talked. “It is good lemon water, by the way. I thank you for that. I know a lot of things are going through your mind. What to do? How to get even with Carlos? Go tell the cops. The FBI.” He came back to the table and leaned on it, shifting his gaze from Craig to Libby. “This is the price of Craig’s failure. I lost a young boy named Berto because of Craig’s incompetence, and I lost a shipment of goods.” He picked up the finger from the table, the ring still attached to it and held it at eye level. “
This
is nothing. If the authorities are notified, or if I lose one more shipment, I will take Libby’s hand,
and
, a finger from each of the girls.”

Craig leapt for Carlos, hands balled into fists. Tico hammered Craig’s kidney with a punishing blow, dropping him to the floor. He lay there, gasping.

Turning to Libby, Carlos stared into her eyes. “I want to make this clear. I don’t want to do anything else, but I
will
come back if Craig fails me again. Do you understand?”

Libby stopped crying and narrowed her eyes. “I understand.
Completely
.”

“Good. I am going to count on you to make sure Craig understands.” Carlos reached his hand out. “Money, Tico.” Carlos hated to carry large amounts of cash. It made his pockets bulge, so he had Tico or one of the others carry most of his money.

“How much?”

“Three thousand.”

Tico counted out three thousand in hundred dollar bills and set them in Carlos’ hand. Carlos set it on the table next to Libby’s finger. “Get your hand fixed with this, but don’t tell them what happened. Make up a good excuse before going. And do the same with the girls. If I see fear in their eyes the next time we meet, I will be upset.” He stared at her, expecting a response.

“Don’t worry, Carlos.” Libby’s tears were long gone, her voice now filled with conviction. “They will know
nothing
.”

“I can see that,” Carlos said, and not for the first time wished he had Libby as the border patrol instead of her cowardly husband.

Carlos had Tico clean up the blood while he talked about trivial things, though no one joined him in conversation. When the car pulled into the drive, he stood. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Libby. I hope you forgive me.” He started to leave, but turned to look at her one last time. “When you feel well enough, come visit us. Bring the girls.”

He said his goodbye’s to the girls then got in the car. “Let’s go, Paco. Houston is a long way off and we have a councilman to see.”

Chapter 21

Just a Few Questions

Z
eppe was watching an old movie with his son when a call came in. After three rings, he yelled. “How about somebody picks up the damn phone.”

His daughter’s soft footsteps raced across the tile floor of the kitchen. “All right, pops. Not like you or Joey couldn’t get it.”

“We’re watching a movie.” Joey said.

She answered the phone, then set it on the counter. “Dad, it’s for you.”

“Who is it?” Zeppe said, and got up from the couch. “Joey, pause the movie, huh.” As he walked past Denise he asked again. “Who is it?”

“One of your friends.”

Zeppe picked up the phone. “Yeah, who’s this?”

“Questo é Fabrizio.”

“Jesus Christ, Fabrizio, speak English. I go through this enough with Dominic.”

“Are you alone?”

“I’ll call back on another phone.”

Zeppe walked toward the sliding door, then out the back where the kids couldn’t hear him, and dialed Fabrizio’s number. “What’s up?”

“We got one of the Mexicans, but he won’t talk.”

“Where are you?”

“At the warehouse, down by—”

“Yeah, I know,” Zeppe said. “Stay put. I’ll get Dominic.”

Zeppe went back into the house. “Joey, I gotta go out. Finish watching it if you want. I’ll catch it another night.” Zeppe grabbed his keys and a pack of smokes from the kitchen table. “You got my lighter?”

“By the fridge,” Joey said.

Zeppe stuffed the lighter in his pocket and headed for the door. “Tell your mother I went out. Be back in a couple hours.”

“All right, pops. See ya’ later.”

Zeppe made it to
Dominic’s house in less than ten minutes, parked the car and went up the walk and in the door. It wasn’t locked. Who the hell was going to bust into Dominic Mangini’s house? “Dom, where are you?”

“Kitchen.”

Zeppe walked in to find him reading the paper and drinking a glass of wine. “Just got a call from Fabrizio. He’s got one of the Mexican guys, but he won’t talk.”

Dominic folded his paper, set it aside, then sipped on his wine. “You want a glass?”

“I’m good.”

After another long sip Dominic smiled. “Tell Fabrizio to get the Doctor.”

“If you’re using the Doctor, count me out.”

Dominic’s mouth twisted, as if he would get angry, but his voice remained calm. “Tell Fabrizio to get him, and have Johnny bring the car.”

“Yeah, all right.” Zeppe started to leave, then stopped at the door. “Thanks, Dom.”

“Go home. And tell Joey and Denise I said hello. Paula, too.”

Zeppe let out a loud breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It took thirty-five minutes
to get to the warehouse. Johnny parked the car out front and he and Dominic went inside. A man at the door greeted them. “He’s in the back, Mr. Mangini.”

“Thank you, Bobby.” Dominic and Johnny headed toward the back of the warehouse. The place reeked of dampness and mold. It was a large warehouse, once used for temporary storage of goods waiting to be shipped. Now this section of the port was in disrepair and many buildings sat empty. A broken-down forklift and a few mangled crates littered one corner of the building. A pile of garbage, mostly boxes and plastic parts, occupied another. Across the room a second man guarded an entry in the rear.

The man stepped aside as Dominic approached. “Good evening, Mr. Mangini.”

Dominic nodded. “Michael.”

He stepped through the door and handed his hat and coat to Johnny.

“Dominic.” Fabrizio hurried to greet him. A small, thin man, Fabrizio was as quick on his feet as he was with numbers and assessing people. Raised in Sicily, he had fallen out of favor with one of the local mobsters, but a relative who knew someone who knew Dominic put in a word, and Dominic called him to the States. Fabrizio soon became one of Dominic’s most trusted men.

“Any information?” Dominic asked.

“Nothing. But I haven’t tried since Zeppe told me the Doctor would be coming.” Fabrizio’s English was remarkably good for someone who had only been in the country a few years.

“Good. I want him fresh.”

“He will be here soon,” Fabrizio said. “I had them pick up Mazza on the way. The Mexican speaks no English, or he’s pretending not to. Either way, with Mazza we’ll know for sure.”

The door opened a few minutes later. Mazza walked in followed by a short, almost emaciated-looking man, wearing a jogging suit and athletic shoes. He carried a surgeon’s bag in his left hand.

At one time the Doctor had been a surgeon but he had fallen into a trap of women and drugs. Soon he was selling organ parts to high bidders to pay gambling debts. Soon after that he was expediting the process to ensure the organs were available when needed. Instead of killing him, Dominic found use for him, taking care of wounds best not seen by hospital staff. The Doctor embraced his new work and grew to love it.

“Good evening, Mr. Mangini.”

“It
is
a good evening,” Dominic said, happy that he would soon have the information he needed.

Fabrizio stepped forward. “From what we heard on the street this guy cannot read or write and he speaks Spanish only.”

“What is it you need to know?” Mazza asked.

“Need to know who’s distributing the drugs, and how they’re structured.” Fabrizio lit a cigarette. “If he can’t tell us the details—”

Dominic moved up to stand before him. “There is no
can’t
. I want who gave the orders to kill those cops in Brooklyn.”

“Okay,” Mazza said, then leaned close to the Mexican. He was sitting in a chair, hands cuffed behind him and his legs tied at the bottom. Mazza explained what they wanted in Spanish, then asked the man if he understood.

The man nodded. “
Si, señor, pero no sé nada.
”

Mazza turned to Dominic. “He said he doesn’t know anything.”

“Hurt him,” Dominic said.

“Let me try again first,” Mazza said, then to the Mexican, “If you don’t talk, they
will
hurt you. It will be
very
bad. Do you understand?”

“
Si, señor, pero no sé nada.
”

Dominic nodded to the Doctor.

The Doctor set the bag on the table, opened it and removed a towel. He lay the towel next to the bag, reached in and grabbed a scalpel. The Doctor looked to Dominic. “How do you want it?”

“Nothing permanent. Give him hope.”

The Doctor faced Mazza. “Tell him I am going to hurt him.”

Mazza told him but the man shook his head.

“Shall we gag him?” Fabrizio asked.

“No one can hear,” Dominic said, and gave the signal.

“Remove the shirt,” the Doctor said.

Mazza took the man’s shirt off, then the Doctor cut a slice across the man’s chest from side to side, not deep enough to require stitches, but it would be painful, especially when agitated with salt and vinegar.

The man winced and held his breath, but he said nothing.

“Keep going,” Dominic said.

The Doctor placed the scalpel below the man’s nipple, waited until he had the man’s attention, then with one swift stroke he cut the nipple off. The man screamed loud enough to make Mazza take a step back.

“I wonder if that was in Spanish or English,” Mazza said.

“I have heard screams in many languages,” Dominic said. “They all sound the same.”

Tears welled in the man’s eyes. He breathed heavily. Mazza waited a moment then asked him. “Who gave the orders?”

“
No sé nada.
”

The Doctor stepped forward. “Now I will hurt you a little more.”

Dominic threw his hands in the air. “Enough of this. Cut out his eye.”

Mazza translated. The man kicked and scratched at his bindings. As the Doctor got closer, the man closed his eyes and kicked harder. Before doing anything the Doctor looked to Dominic.

“Do it,” Dominic said.

When the scalpel started into the corner of the eye, blood ran out. The man screamed, then, “I will tell. I know things.” This, he said in English.

The Doctor stopped, but Dominic shook his head. “Finish it. What good is half an eye?”

The screams and thrashing continued long after the Doctor had finished, not just the cutting but the patching up too. Dominic approached and spoke in a whisper. “If you do not tell me what I want, I will have him cut out the other eye.”

The man told them about Carlos Cortes and how he was called El Jabato, and he told them about the operation Carlos ran from Monterrey. Details of the New York distribution plans followed, then he told them about a club in Houston that Carlos used. He spoke for almost twenty minutes about what he knew.

Dominic went to Fabrizio. “Give me half an hour to get home, then kill him. But do it quickly. Don’t let the Doctor have him.”

All the way home Dominic thought about how to handle the situation. Connie would not like him interfering in her business, but this was information she needed. El Jabato was a dangerous man. Dominic cursed his impatience. He should have tried harder to find out where the drugs from the bust went. Now he would have to resort to other means.

In the morning, Zeppe
came to Dominic’s house. As they shared coffee Dominic told him about Carlos and his operation.

“I’ll call Connie and tell her,” Zeppe said.

“No. We need to be careful about how we get the information to her. I think we need to find a way to get it to Detective Donovan. You know how Concetta is about help coming from us.”

Zeppe sipped his coffee and chewed on a biscotto. “I can make it look like a tip from somebody. I’ll get with Manny, arrange for it to come from one of his guys in Brooklyn or even Queens.”

Dominic nodded. “As long as Donovan doesn’t suspect the lead came from us. If he thinks it is genuine, he’ll get the information to her.” Dominic looked out his window, deep in thought. “On second thought, Zeppe, have the tip go to Donovan’s partner, and make them work for it. Then they will never suspect.”

“Good idea, Dom. I’ll get on it right away.” He drained the cup then got up to go.

“Zeppe, when you see Fabrizio, tell him to keep digging. I want to know where those drugs went.”

Chapter 22