The Scorpion's Tale (11 page)

The Scorpion nodded his head. “I thought you
might do that. Our good friend William. I have not thought of him
in quite some time. He still resides in Las Vegas?”

“Yes,” Charlie said, suddenly short on
conversation.

“What did you tell Mr. Capresi about me?”

“You were brilliant, impossible to find, and
that no one had ever seen your face.”

“Anything else?”

“I told him you were the world’s deadliest
assassin, and I tried to convince him to abandon his quest to kill
you.”

The Scorpion laughed. He seemed satisfied
with Charlie’s response, and knew Charlie could never identify him.
It never dawned on him to ask Charlie about voice-recognition.
Steven Capresi was obviously searching for someone who could
describe his wife’s killer, and the Scorpion felt supremely
confident that he would never find such a person.

“I have one last question,” the Scorpion
said. “‘Capresi’ is a name that sounds familiar, but I cannot place
it. Where have I heard that name before?”

“Steven’s father was Tomasso Capresi. It was
shortened from ‘Capresiano.’ He was also known as “’T.C.’”

There was a heavy stillness in the room and
neither man spoke. Charlie’s eyes were riveted on the Scorpion,
hoping for a reaction, but there was none.

“Steven Capresi is the son of Tomasso
Capresiano,” the Scorpion repeated, more a statement than a
question. The edge in his voice betrayed his concern.

“Tomasso changed his name many years ago. I
foolishly told Steven that I had known his father, which totally
surprised him. It just slipped out. Steven believes his father was
in the food business, like himself.”

The Scorpion said nothing. Charlie felt sweat
running down his face again.

“This is certainly an ironic twist of fate,
the Scorpion said, shaking his head. “I have not thought about T.C.
in a long time. That was another lifetime. I do miss him. I now
understand what destiny dictates me to do. Know that I greatly
appreciate your candor.”

Charlie watched him raise the gun and point
it directly at him. He started shaking, but said nothing.

“You will tell no one about this visit,” the
Scorpion said, raising his right hand and pointing the gun directly
at Charlie’s head. “You will not attempt to contact or warn Mr.
Capresi or Mr. Veeksburn. I will make this one and only exception
and let you live. Go on with your life and forget about Mr.
Capresi. If you disappoint me, I
will
kill you.” With that,
he fired a tranquilizing dart into Charlie’s neck from a second,
smaller gun cradled in the palm of his left hand, causing Charlie
to instantly lose consciousness. The Scorpion looked through
Charlie’s closet and grabbed a hat and an overcoat. He put on
Charlie’s clothes and slipped out of the apartment and down the
stairs into the Chicago night.

As the plane descended toward the Las Vegas
Airport, Steven could see suburban outposts built into the
foothills, looking like octopus tentacles reaching into the
mountains. As dusk began to engulf the city, he could see the tall
towers of colored lights that slowly transformed into the luxurious
hotels on the legendary “Strip,” radiating the city with unbridled
energy.

Charlie’s friends at the Venetian Hotel had
booked Steven a suite at a greatly discounted rate. Naturally,
Charlie had exaggerated Steven’s gambling habits and billed Steven
as a “high-roller” to get the comp.

After settling into his room, Steven took a
quick tour of the Grand Canal Shoppes. He watched the gondoliers
serenade hotel guests in the canals that flowed through the Italian
Renaissance shops. The canals were sparkling blue, marred only by
the occasional cigarette butt. Steven viewed the litter as an ugly
reminder of how man could quickly ruin life’s beauty, and it
darkened his mood. Artisans were painting, sculpting, dancing, and
playing music, but Steven was now numb to his surroundings.

Steven had a paranoid feeling he was being
watched. He tried to maintain his composure, casually glancing
around and pretending to take in the views of the square while
trying to catch the spy. He saw nothing suspicious, and relaxed,
satisfied the feeling was only his imagination.

On the other side of the square, seated on a
bench behind a group of tourists, a man read his newspaper,
glancing up every so often to see if Capresi was still there. He
never looked at Steven for more than a second. As Steven walked
slowly back to the lobby, the man discretely followed.

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

Detective Johnston was sprawled in front of
his television watching the New York Mets host the Atlanta Braves.
His favorite pastime had always been baseball and he had spent
years coaching his daughters in little league. The game was tied at
two when the telephone rang. He waited for the second ring before
grabbing it.

“Hello.”

“Mike, it’s Marty.”

“Got anything for me?”

“Your friend checked into the Hilton in
downtown Chicago and stayed in a suite. He had dinner with someone
at Gibson’s Steakhouse. I’m trying to find out who he dined
with.”

Detective Johnston scratched his chin
pensively. “Is he still at the Hilton?”

“He caught a flight to Vegas. That’s where my
research ends.”

“Vegas?” Detective Johnston repeated. “What
the hell is he doing in Vegas?”

“Beats me,” Marty answered. “You want me to
get more information on him?”

“No thanks buddy. I can handle it from
here.”

“No problem Mike. I’ll e-mail his flight
information to you.”

Why was Capresi in Vegas and whom did he meet
in Chicago, the detective thought. Did he have friends or relatives
there or was he on business pertaining to the murders? The
detective instinctively felt Steven was up to no good. He thought
about whom he might call in Vegas and which of Steven’s family
members he should lean on to get information. It was time for him
to become more involved in Capresi’s life.

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

Steven kicked off his shoes and sat on the
edge of the bed in his suite. He noticed that the message light was
blinking. Steven followed the automated instructions to retrieve
his messages. There was only one:

Meet me tomorrow at Red Rock Canyon. Take a
taxi. Go to the Visitor’s Center and get a trail map. Bring three
bottles of water. Buy a pair of hiking boots. Go to trail number
five, called “Turtlehead Peak”. Walk to the end. Meet me at the top
of the summit at 2:00 sharp. If you’re late, I’m gone! If you’ve
got a gun, don’t bring it. That will just get you killed.

Steven replayed the message several times. He
had actually been thinking he should purchase a gun, but now
thought better of it. He reviewed a map of Las Vegas and noted that
Red Rock Canyon was approximately twenty miles from the hotel. He
read about Red Rock Canyon in one of the hotel magazines. The
numbered trails were scattered all over the park. He would
definitely need a ride from the information center to the trail.
The length of the roundtrip hike was five miles, and it appeared
that Veeksburn had selected one of the longer trails. He inspected
his loafers and his well-worn Adidas cross-trainers. He headed to
the shops to purchase hiking boots.

The morning after Giovanna’s arrival, Nick
was in an unflappable mood as he made his way through the Lincoln
tunnel into the City. He was smiling as drivers cut him off,
stroking the petals on the twenty-four red roses he had purchased
for his breakfast date. He checked his face in the rearview mirror.
Man, are you good looking or what, he thought. It had been a long
time since he was this excited over a woman
.

Nick pulled his car into the St. Regis Hotel.
He was five minutes early. Way to make a good impression
,
he
thought. Women love a punctual man. He walked the perimeter of the
restaurant, glancing at the occupied tables. Even though her back
was towards him, he instantly knew it was Giovanna. He stood
alongside her until she looked up. Her smile lit up his soul.

“You’re on time. I’m impressed.”

“You’re early. I’m even more impressed.”

“Don’t be,” she said, as she sat down. “I
only had an elevator ride.”

Nick opened his shopping bag, withdrew the
roses, and presented them to her. “Beautiful flowers for a
beautiful lady.”

“Thank you Nick, they’re my favorite color.
That was extremely thoughtful!”

“How was the rest of your day yesterday?”
Nick asked as he sat down across from her.

“I’m still jet-lagged, but I managed a quick
visit with my aunts whom I hadn’t seen in years.”

“Family is everything.”

Giovanna smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.

The waitress came by and they ordered.

Do you have brothers or sisters?” Giovanna
asked.

“I had an older brother, but he’s dead. We
were close. I don’t like talking about him.”

“I’m sorry,” Giovanna said.

Nick gazed at her inquisitively. Her beauty
was incomparable. “I spoke to my uncle and I can’t believe why you
are in New York.”

She returned his stare. “I need your family’s
help. My brother, father, and mother were murdered, and I’m here to
..”

“What?” Nick interrupted. “Seek revenge?”

“To learn the truth,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.
It’s just that things have been crazy lately.”

Gia sipped her water and said nothing.

“Even if you learned the truth, tell me what
you would gain, Do you think anything you do will change things?
Your brother and parents are dead. You can’t bring them back.”

“But I can bring their killers to justice!”
she snapped.

Now it was Nick taken aback by the unexpected
outburst. Her eyes flashed anger, then quickly softened.

“I know something about these murders,” Nick
said. “I have a friend who is already involved. His wife and
daughters were killed.”

“How old were his daughters?” she asked.

Nick looked away as his thoughts returned to
Amanda. “The oldest girl was two. The youngest was still in her
mother’s womb. I’ve already placed one of my friends in great
danger, and don’t wish to do the same with you.”

Giovanna smiled sincerely, thinking of all
the men who had protected her. “I’m grateful for your concern. I
won’t try to be a heroine. Whatever information I learn, I will
provide to the authorities. I’m just asking you to help me find out
who was involved and why this happened to my family.”

Nick thought about his older brother who had
also been killed.

The waitress appeared with their food.
“Anything else I can bring you?”

Nick checked with Giovanna to make sure she
was all right, and then addressed the waitress. “Everything looks
great. We’re good for now.”

Giovanna smiled approvingly. “Thanks for
including me, you get excellent marks for manners. You wouldn’t
believe how many men completely forget they’ve got company at the
dining table, and if their needs are met, all is right with the
world. Their date could be starving and they’d be completely
oblivious.”

Nick smiled at her candor. “My uncle believes
a man should always be a gentleman.”

“He’s obviously a wise man. You have a
wonderful role model.”

“Yes I do, but you can turn off the charm.
I’m already hooked. We’ll do a little reconnaissance work and see
what information we can dig up, but on one condition. If I think
it’s getting dangerous and I want to pull the plug, we’re done. No
questions, no arguments. You walk away when I say so.”

“Is that your final offer?” she asked
defiantly.

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll have to think about it. I don’t do well
with ultimatums, even from someone as charming as you.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Think about it all you
want. Those are my rules, but flattery will get you everywhere with
me. It soothes my battered ego.”

“What’s your plan?” she asked.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Nick continued.
“We’ll check out the corporate records at Tony’s company.”

Giovanna seemed confused. “Haven’t the police
already reviewed them?”

Nick snickered. “Not all of them. I know a
few places where they wouldn’t have looked. Finish your breakfast
and we’ll go for a ride.”

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

Steven slept fitfully as thoughts of his
girls turned to a nightmare. The shrill sound of his nine o’clock
wake-up call jarred Steven from his brief respite. He opened the
mini-bar, removed a small bottle of Johnnie Walker and a package of
pretzels, and drained the scotch straight from the bottle as he
inhaled the pretzels. He chased down the scotch with a can of
cranberry juice. Voila, he thought to himself – breakfast, Las
Vegas style. Steven wore khaki shorts, a tee shirt, and, of course,
his new hiking boots with a pair of thick socks. He threw on a
baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, and stuffed three bottles of
water into a small shoulder bag.

The drive to Red Rock Canyon was an adventure
in and of itself. Harry, his cab driver, had spotted Steven leaving
the hotel and had immediately zeroed in on him. Harry jumped out of
his cab and quickly whisked Steven away from his competitors before
Steven could object. The driver was obviously unconcerned with
business etiquette as the other cab drivers screamed at him for
butting the line.

Harry was a chatty Nevada native who felt
duty-bound to provide Steven with a detailed history of the state.
At first, Steven resented the intrusion into his privacy. He wanted
to consider the possible scenarios that might develop with Billy
Veeksburn. He grudgingly allowed Harry to drone on, staring out the
window and nodding occasionally to indicate he was listening. As
Harry pointed out historical landmarks and points of interest along
Charleston Boulevard, Steven began to succumb to the driver’s
cowboy charm.