The Scorpion's Tale (28 page)

Steven awoke mid-morning to bright, Caribbean
sunlight flooding his room. He adjusted his eyes and beheld the
postcard-quality scenery. Beyond a line of coconut palms stretched
an expanse of pristine, white, sandy beach, lightly caressed by a
turquoise sea.

Joaquin was seated on a chair, reading the
newspaper. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you,” Steven said.

“Hungry?”

“No thanks. I’m not big on breakfast,” Steven
answered.

Joaquin folded his newspaper. “Neither am I.
But I do cherish my coffee. Like some?”

Steven shook his head, and took a seat next
to Joaquin.

Joaquin lowered his eyes. “I am truly sorry
for your pain.”

Steven looked into the eyes of his host. This
was certainly a different man from last night. Steven might have
misjudged him.

Joaquin faced Steven and sat back in his
chair. “How old do you think I am?”

Steven shrugged. “Sixty-five.”

Joaquin grinned. “Thank you for the
compliment. Actually, I am seventy-three. The last ten years in St.
Thomas have been the best of my life. I spend my days reading and
drinking the local rum. I have never been more content.”

“I envy you.”

Joaquin frowned. “You could have everything
you need right here, if you wanted it. You’d have the rest of your
life to find peace.”

Steven stiffened. He hated thinking of his
own happiness. He knew he could settle comfortably into island life
and wash away his sorrow sipping rum in the island breeze, but that
wasn’t his destiny. “I don’t want it.”

Joaquin seemed to understand. “You want to
find the man who killed your family.”

“That’s correct.”

“And when you find him, you’ll kill him?”

“With great pleasure.”

Joaquin gazed at the bay and considered
Steven’s words. “And once you’ve killed him, what will you do?”

“Does it matter?”

“In essence, you exist solely for
vengeance?”

“It is my only reason to live.”

“I neither judge nor condemn you, Steven
Capresi. You’ve traveled far and passed through enough obstacles to
know this is what you must do.”

“Yes.” Steven was appreciative that someone
finally understood.

Joaquin removed a photograph from a folder on
the table and handed it to Steven. It was a picture of a young man
dressed in a tuxedo. The man was clean-shaven with a swarthy
complexion and dark, wavy hair. He had a distinguished face with
high cheekbones and a dimple in his chin. He was athletically
built.

“This is the man you seek. This is James,
when he was twenty-one. His legal name is Edward, but he preferred
to be called James. Today he is simply ‘the Scorpion.’”

Steven’s eyes were fixated on the face
staring back at him. His pulse quickened and his temples throbbed
as he stared into the eyes of the man who slaughtered his family.
Where had Steven seen this face before?

“Actually, Steven, you remind me of
James.”

Steven shot an angry look at Joaquin,
disgusted at the comparison. He stared in silence at the photograph
and couldn’t believe he finally had a face against which he could
direct his hatred.

“James is a complicated man.”

Steven looked up from the photograph with a
curious expression. “Aren’t you afraid of him?”

“Yes, I am. But I’ve lived my life. He might
kill me. He might spare me. Such are his ways. I don’t mind helping
you because you have no chance.”

“Aren’t you betraying him by speaking with
me?”

Joaquin shook his head. “What he did to your
family is unforgivable. James and I retain an eternal bond because
of our past, but that is all we have left. We’ll always have the
past, but our relationship is simply one of unpaid debts.”

Steven was barely listening, lost in the
picture. “This man looks very familiar.”

Joaquin shrugged his shoulders. “That is what
makes him so proficient. He is every man and no man.”

Steven made a face at Joaquin, dismissing the
comment. “So what do you want to tell me about Mr. Everyman?”

“Nothing–at least not in my home. We’ll go
into Red Hook for lunch and drink Cuba Libres, and I will tell you
about me and James.”

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

As Nick and his men passed the front desk on
the way to breakfast, a pretty blond clerk addressed him as she
withdrew a small, gift-wrapped box.

“Mr. Manzione, a package just arrived for
you.”

Nick pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and
handed it to her, then moved away and wrestled with the wrapping
paper before removing the top of the box. Inside, on a bed of white
cotton, was a severed human finger saturated in coagulated
blood.

“Fuck! That’s Eddie’s ring,” Braulio said,
peering into the box over Nick’s shoulder.

Louie retrieved the wrapping paper that Nick
had discarded. “Did you see this card attached to the box?” Louie
asked.

“Give me that,” Nick demanded, taking the
card from Louie. He strained his eyes to decipher the tiny, neatly
printed writing, and then read it out loud:

“
Manzione–this is your only warning. One
down and four to go. Get out of Rio or your woman starts losing
body parts, too.”

Nick crumpled the note. “It’s game time boys.
Louie, take Braulio and find Giorgio. Call me when you’ve got
him.”

Louie and Braulio disappeared out the front
doors of the hotel.

“What’s our next move?” Pete asked.

“We’re getting the hell out of Rio,” Nick
replied.

“What about Renaldo and his gang?”

“Screw those guys. They’re not worth getting
killed for. I have some unfinished business with Giorgio before we
leave. Until then, let’s play it cool and keep a low profile.”

Giovanna emerged from the elevators and Nick
waved to her.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Nick said,
smiling widely at Giovanna and talking to Pete from the side of his
mouth, so Giovanna couldn’t hear. “When she gets here, escort her
to the table while I make a quick call.”

Giovanna approached with a smile.

“You and Pete get a table and I’ll join you
in a minute,” Nick said.

He watched them walk into the restaurant
while he dialed Giorgio. Giorgio answered in a tired voice,
slurring his words.

“Giorgio, its Nick. I got a little present in
the mail this morning–the finger of one of my men. I can only
assume that you had something to do with it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. In
fact, I was just getting ready to call you because everything is
set to go.”

Nick snickered, knowing that Giorgio was
dying to double-cross him.

“When’s the meeting?” Nick asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“That’s too late. My plans have changed. I’ve
got emergency business in New York and I’m leaving ASAP. We’ll have
to forget the meeting.”

“Are you crazy? Do you know what it took to
get everyone together? I’m handing you these guys on a silver
platter! All you have to do is show up and finish it!”

“No can do. Not tomorrow. You’ve had plenty
of time to set this up and you screwed up. Tell them whatever you
want and I’ll call you from New York.”

“Nick, don’t do this to me,” Giorgio pleaded.
“These guys will be extremely pissed.”

“What do you want me to do, Giorgio? I’ve got
a plane to catch! Set it up for this afternoon.”

“It can’t happen today.”

“Fine, then give me Renaldo’s number and I’ll
call him myself. I’ll tell him it’s my fault and get you off the
hook.”

Giorgio was sweating. Even in his inebriated
state he was not delusional enough to believe Nick would stick out
his neck for him. Giorgio didn’t want to give up Renaldo’s private
number and lose control of the communications. He felt safer as the
middleman. But if Nick didn’t show for the meeting, Renaldo would
kill him. He didn’t have a choice.

“Okay, Nick, but you’ve got to promise to
call me after you talk with Renaldo.”

“You got it, Giorgio. I’ll make sure he knows
how valuable you are to our operation. Now give me the number.”

Nick grinned as he entered Renaldo’s number
into his phone. “I’ll get back to you after I’ve spoken to him.”
Nick hung up and walked out to the pool to call Renaldo.

Renaldo answered gruffly. “Who the hell is
this?”

“Nick Manzione.” There was a long silence at
the other end of the line. “I know you’ve been talking with
Giorgio,” Nick continued. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit he’s
been feeding you, but I think I’m being set up. He’s the one who
called me to Rio and I’ve been sitting on my ass for three days. I
just booked a flight back to New York. I want to know what the hell
is going on down here and I wanted to hear it from my man,
directly!”

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Renaldo yelled, making a
sound like he’d hit someone. “That little shit told me you came
down here to kill me!”

Nick laughed. “Kill you? Without you I have
absolutely nothing! How could you be so goddamn stupid to believe
Giorgio and why the hell didn’t you call me immediately?” Nick
screamed, feigning righteous indignation. “Giorgio’s trying to
start a war between us.”

Renaldo remained quiet as he grasped the
patent absurdity of the question. “Yeah right, man. The whole thing
didn’t make sense. I’m sorry. I shoulda called you. ”

Nick smiled. His Brazilian partner was
terrifying, but certainly not brilliant. Nick knew Renaldo bought
his story. “It didn’t make sense because that fuck Giorgio was
trying to move in on our operation. He’s hoping we kill each
other.”

“Son-of-a-bitch! I’m going to kill that lying
Maricone!”

“Wait a minute. I’ve got a better idea. What
time is the meeting Giorgio scheduled?” Nick asked.

“Tomorrow, outside of the city.”

“I’m not going to be here tomorrow. I’ve got
a flight to catch, but I believe I know where to find Giorgio.”

“That double-crossing bastard! Wait until I
get my hands on him,” Renaldo shouted.

“Don’t even think about doing anything to
Giorgio until I say so, do you understand?” He hung up the phone
and sauntered into the restaurant to join his party, feeling great
that he had once again regained control over his universe.

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

Renaldo focused on how Giorgio was going to
pay big for starting a war. Renaldo would convince Nick that
Giorgio killed his man on his own just to fuel the fires. He smiled
in his drug-induced state, thinking it shouldn’t be hard. After
all, he was dealing with dumb Dagos.

Joaquin and Steven entered Molly Malone’s, a
pub next to the ferry stop to St. John. The waitress greeted
Joaquin with a kiss on the cheek and sat them by the water.

“Clarice, a Cuba Libre for me. How about you,
Steven?”

“The same.”

Clarice returned with their drinks and
Joaquin finished his drink in a few gulps.

“I know about revenge,” Joaquin said, taking
Steven by surprise. “I haven’t always been a sedentary old man. My
chosen profession cost me the lives of my wife and our two young
children thirty years ago, when a rival retaliated against me.”

Clarice swung by with fresh drinks, quickly
collected their empties and returned to the bar without
interrupting the flow of the conversation.

“What happened to the people who killed your
family?”

“I killed them all.”

Joaquin was a man who understood his pain and
need for revenge, Steven thought. Perhaps there was something
deeper he could learn from this old man.

Joaquin took a sip of his second drink. “Do
you know anything about the man you intend to kill?”

“What I know is inconsequential.”

“No information is inconsequential. To hunt a
man, you must understand him and, like a predator, you must track
him into his very lair until there is no escape. You must be one
step ahead and anticipate each move he makes. A hunt is a matter of
life and death.” He looked solemnly at Steven. “Do you
understand?”

Steven shrugged. “I guess.”

“You must be absolutely certain. In this
world, there is no room for ‘maybe’, ‘almost’ or ‘I guess’. Those
words guarantee a bullet to your head.”

Steven stirred his drink with his index
finger. “Tell me about the man who killed my family.”

“We were very close. I brought him up in our
business. You see, I too was a professional assassin until my
family was murdered.”

Steven looked stunned.

“I hope you won’t judge me harshly, but I
cannot change the past. My day of judgment will come. I haven’t
seen James in many years, so I have no idea what he looks like now.
On rare occasions, a hand-delivered post card from him makes it to
my house. It is his way of reminding me that he can reach me
anytime. James likes to be in control. Fear is the cornerstone of
his legend and his power. For James, fear is control.”

“Your friend is quite a psycho.”

“Our profession–I mean his profession–makes
it almost impossible to have family or any close friendships. Only
a rare man has been able to juggle both lives.”

Steven stretched his neck from side to side,
trying to work out the tension, and then sat forward in his chair.
“Isn’t it difficult for you to help me?”

Joaquin shook his head. “Perhaps, but you are
the hunter, matching wits with the most complex and intelligent
prey on earth. Although I once loved James like a son, the man I
loved died years ago. The man who murdered your family is someone I
do not know. I hold him in contempt for the execution of your
children, and I no longer owe allegiance to him.”

Both men quietly sipped their drinks. The rum
was having a soothing effect on Steven’s nerves, and he found
himself relaxed with Joaquin.