Darwin wondered what he would do for the next twenty-four hours. Where would he stay, what would he eat? Greg told him to check in at a ritzy hotel, but which one?
He walked along the crowded train station in a daze, unfocused, rudderless.
The first step would be a weapon. But what kind? Knives were out of the question, of course. Along that line of thought, he hated the dark too. Absolute darkness caused him to have panic attacks. He found he just couldn’t cope well after living with his stepmom. All those years of being tossed in the room in the basement that had no window. The things she would prick his skin with for hours. He remembered if he cried once, or even mumbled a single peep of protest, she would start again, poking and pricking him with sharp needles, in the pitch-black room.
He always said one day he would do it to her, and when he got the chance in that barn, he used a pitchfork. No one ever found out it was him and he was okay with that. One less fucked up human for the rest of humanity to deal with.
One day he would tell Rosina all about it. How his stepmother was always pricking him and his father had no idea as he was away from home a lot. Darwin was bleeding in a dozen spots that day. His stepmother was about to lock him up in the dark room again, but Darwin escaped and ran at least a kilometer away. He hid in a barn that didn’t look used for anything other than hay storage. When his stepmother found him three hours later, she was furious. She saw a pitchfork against the wall of the barn and came at him. He recalled her saying something about pricking him real good this time. He dodged left, he dodged right, and kept himself off the long tongs of the pitchfork, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before she got lucky.
The sun was setting that afternoon, casting the barn into darkness. His ability to control his temper became too difficult. When she lunged again, he dropped to the hay-covered floor, reached up and grabbed the handle of the pitchfork. After twisting it from her grasp, he moved at her with a quick jab. It entered her chest, and she died in less than two minutes.
Darwin ran from the area and never looked back. He knew no one saw him because it never came up. His morose attitude was attributed to the loss and funeral of his stepmother.
He wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t a repeat offender. It was a one-time deal of getting back at the source of years of pain and anguish. Years of torment and torture at the hands of a psycho.
His father had been absent all those years, working late hours. When he finally broke down and told his dad what his stepmother had been doing, his father wouldn’t believe it.
Darwin was left emotionally damaged and scarred. He developed a violent reaction, an outright insane anger, to anything sharp being pointed at him. Although, he couldn’t hold a knife. No way. He’d end up getting angry at himself, piss himself off. He couldn’t have that.
So what kind of weapon would work? A taser? A stun-gun. A pellet gun? But he had no idea where he would get those things in Rome.
Darwin took the escalator back up to the main floor and started walking along the line of train tracks, some occupied, others not.
He passed by a stationery store on the right and came up with a great idea for a weapon.
He bought exactly what he needed and stepped out with the weapon carefully hidden in his new jacket’s pocket.
Wait, when Rosina and I were here earlier, two men chased the bus and banged on the window. Maybe they’re still here?
He spun on his heels, a full circle, looking in every direction. He didn’t see anything untoward. No one watched him longer than normal. No one appeared to be stalking him.
How stupid, how stupid, he chastised himself. I walked out in the open. I could’ve been grabbed at any time.
He moved to the wall and stayed close to it as he continued along, watching the faces of all the travelers. He looked for anyone without luggage.
People from every culture ran by, heading in a myriad of directions, intent on making it back to their loved ones.
If only I could make it back to Rosina.
In thirty minutes, he had traversed the entire bottom floor of Termini Station without seeing anyone who resembled a mobster.
What the hell does a mobster look like anyway?
Toward the front, people stood in long lines buying train tickets. The roof was made of some kind of glass. Clouds rolled in, some gray, some darker.
Then he spotted one of the men from earlier, the slimmer of the two men who had chased the bus Rosina and he had taken to the airport. The man sat on the second floor at some kind of coffee shop, a cappuccino in his hand. Right above the ticket area was a railing and behind that were cafes and restaurants. The man sat all the way down at the end, at the last table.
Darwin immediately ducked his head, tightened his grip on his weapon and started for the side. He walked with purpose, but without making his hurried step too obvious. Within twenty seconds, he made it under the railing of the second floor and as far as he could tell, the mobster guy hadn’t seen him.
He skirted around and took the escalator to the second floor.
What am I doing? Greg told me to be cool. I’m supposed to be playing it safe.
Too late. He almost died on that highway and he wanted to send a message to the boss man that he wouldn’t be intimidated.
The motherfucking FBI is on my side and one phone call brought them running.
The Fuccini family will always remember Darwin Athios Kostas.
He slowed as he neared the corner of the cafeteria-style cafe. The man still sat there, looking down over the railing, his attention on the lines at the ticket booths.
Darwin edged out and walked briskly up to his table. He made to walk past in case the man looked up, but he didn’t, so Darwin turned and stood for a second directly behind him.
He waited. His hand shook the weapon as he gripped it in a sweaty palm.
What am I doing? This is stupid. These guys are trained killers. How am I going to intimidate him?
This was the only way. Act insane and be insane. Insanity meant unpredictability.
He lunged forward, placed his weapon against the man’s throat and leaned down next to his ear.
“Move a fucking inch, and the next time you move any muscle will be convulsions from the lead poisoning in your neck.”
He surprised himself. His own voice scared him. He had no idea where it came from. On the word fucking, spittle flew from his mouth. It felt good, liberating. That kind of madness and control at the same time gave him something of a rush.
To his credit, the man didn’t budge. Darwin felt the guy shudder a little.
“Now, I’m going to sit down behind you and we’re going to talk. You will not turn around. You will not look at me or I will kill you and shove your corpse over the railing. Then I will nonchalantly walk downstairs and catch a train to wherever. Are we clear?”
The man nodded in a rapid flourish, like he was in a mad hurry.
Darwin eased back, pulled his weapon away from the man’s neck, and sat on the chair behind the mobster. The man didn’t budge. He just kept staring straight ahead.
Darwin glanced down at the weapon in his hand and almost laughed. A thick pencil, unsharpened. He couldn’t carry a sharp one. Never could in school, couldn’t now.
Lead poisoning. That’s rich.
A chuckle slipped out after all.
Shit.
He looked up. The man hadn’t moved.
Darwin set his teeth together and spoke through them. “Put your arms up on the railing. Your hands must stay in my view at all times or I will cut them off.”
The man lifted both arms up.
“Good. Now tell your boss that we have to make an arrangement. He cannot hunt me down forever and I will not be hunted like an animal. This has to stop.”
“Can I speak?” the man asked.
“Yes, but first, tell me your name.”
“Paul, my name’s Paul.”
“Okay, Paul…” he almost said nice to meet you.
Shit. Stupid Canadian kindness. I’m talking to a guy who wants me dead. It’d do me well to remember that.
“Go ahead. Fucking talk.”
“I don’t think the boss will walk away from this.”
“Why’s that?” Darwin asked, his teeth still clenched tight.
“Two of his best men are dead. They’ve got tags on their toes after what you did to them out on the highway.”
Darwin was shocked. They already know about that?
“Go on,” he said, mostly because he had no idea what else to say.
“My partner and I were leaving after we missed you on the bus.”
Darwin leaned forward and smacked the back of the guy’s head. “That’s for scaring my wife.” He needed to stay in a position of power. These kind of men responded to that. Even though he was shitting on the inside.
He snuck a glance left and right. No one walked toward them. Their little meeting hadn’t gotten anyone’s attention.
“Sorry about that, man. I was just doing my job. Anyway, my partner and I were leaving. He got on a train and left, that’s why he’s not here. I take a bus, but thought I’d get something to eat and hang out. Well, I got the call to stay here and watch for you after what you did. I couldn’t believe it.”
“What do you mean, I did?”
“No one ever lays Big John down. Never. But I was told you chewed the driver’s ear off and snapped Big John’s neck, flipped the van and walked away. All that with handcuffs on? Man, you one crazy dude. Everybody’s fucked up about it. The word on the street is Big John is dead and some crazy Canadian white boy has gone insane.”
Suddenly everything came clear. The men were brought back in to watch the train station in case he returned. They figured him for being a crazy rabid fuck, so Paul took a position upstairs to watch the ticket line in case he saw Darwin.
They were afraid of him. Paul wasn’t challenging him at all. The shudder Darwin felt earlier was Paul quaking in fear.
He had them. Now he had to keep them there. It was the only way.
“That’s right, I am insane and I’m pissed off. Killing Vincenzo was an accident. Maybe Fuccini wanted me to apologize in person.” He leaned forward and made the rest of his words as intense as he could. “But then the asshole threw me down and put handcuffs on me. I couldn’t believe it. The van pulled onto the highway and Big John pulled a knife out of his ankle. That was it. I went mad. I chewed the driver’s ear off and started in on Big John’s neck. I broke his neck with my fucking teeth. Did you hear that part? Big John’s neck was so severely broken that the skin was split right up the side?”
Paul nodded violently. Darwin could almost feel fear coming off the guy. At least he hoped he had him.
“Now I’m coming for Fuccini and anyone else who gets in my way because I’m a man with nothing to lose. You take away everything from a man and what does he have left? Nothing, that’s right. Now I’ve got nothing. So, until Fuccini backs off, I’m unstoppable.”
He stopped talking and reconsidered the last part.
Shit, that sounded so amateur.
“I’m sure if you go in and talk to him, he’ll consider letting Rosina go,” Paul said.
Now it was his turn to be stunned. Rosina? They had his wife? No way. He couldn’t believe it. He left her on that plane. He waited and watched. She hadn’t come out. No way. Impossible.
“Repeat what you just said, but don’t use her name.”
“They have your wife. Maybe you can set up some kind of exchange, maybe a deal?”
“I don’t believe you. I saw her get on that plane.”
The guy shook his head. He still looked out across the open expanse above the heads of ticket purchasers.
“No. They picked her up in a limousine and took her ten blocks from here to the boss’s office tower after she checked back into Hotel Luigi.”
“So you know where they’re holding my wife?”
Darwin thought he had this under control. Greg was coming tomorrow to help him sort it out. Rosina was supposed to be in Greece. He’d join her in a few days when everything was over. But now tomorrow would be too late. Greg wouldn’t make it in time.
Rosina needs me. It’s time to step this up. Time to be a man.
“Yes, I do, but I can’t take you to see her. They’ll kill me.”
Darwin pulled the pencil out and leaned forward, placing the tip against the guy’s neck.
“You’ll die right now if you don’t take me to her.”
“Okay, okay, easy, easy. I’ll take you to the building. I’ll show it to you. You do the rest.”
He eased the pencil away and placed it back in his pocket.
“Reach in slowly and remove your cell phone. Give it to me. Then I want you to slowly remove your gun. Then hand that over. Any movement I don’t like, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground, one floor below.”
Paul, with exaggerated slowness, reached into his breast pocket and produced a small cell phone. He reached behind him, palm up, arm twisted, and handed the phone to Darwin.
“You really want me to give you my piece, out here in the open?”
“Do that, or maybe I’ll chew on you too.”
Damn, do I ever sound corny. I gotta get this tough-guy act under control.
“Okay, okay, take it easy.”
Paul reached inside his jacket.
Darwin moved closer. He put a hand on Paul’s shoulder and squeezed the jacket’s material.
“Easy does it,” Darwin whispered.
Paul brought the weapon out with two fingers on the butt of the gun. Darwin knew nothing about guns. All he could tell was that the one being handed to him looked lethal.
He took it with his free hand and dropped it in the jacket pocket that didn’t have the pencil.
“Now, get up.”
“We’re going to the office tower?” Paul asked.
“Not right away. I need to find out if you lied to me first. You better hope you didn’t.”
Darwin rose from his chair and stepped back. Paul got up and half turned toward him.
Darwin locked his jaw and started letting one eye twitch. Then he tilted his head a little. He knew if he looked in the mirror at that moment he would appear to be quite fucked. He wanted to portray an insane man. Someone who had gone over the edge and wasn’t coming back. In a way, that was Darwin.
They had Rosina. The line had been crossed. He didn’t have to act crazy. He was on his way there with a first class ticket, courtesy of the Fuccini family.
“Move,” he instructed.
Paul started away from him, Darwin close behind.
“Do one stupid thing, it ends. You should know how this works.”
Paul nodded.
Darwin followed him to the escalator and stayed two steps away on the way down. At the bottom, he told Paul to go to the right.
On the way out of Termini Station, a few people got close, but nothing happened. No one attacked them or tried to stop them.
At the street, Darwin directed Paul down the side to where they would turn left.
In less than two minutes, they stood in front of Hotel Luigi.
“We are going to go upstairs to the lobby. I need to see if my wife checked in as you said she did. Are we clear?”
Paul nodded and stepped into the building. He took the stairs with Darwin a few steps back. Then they entered the brightly lit lobby.
“May I help you?” the clerk asked.
Paul moved off to the side a little. Darwin stepped closer.
“Do you remember me? I stayed here for four nights with my wife, Rosina?”
“Ah, yes, of course. She already checked in. You’re in room twenty-seven. I don’t think she’s in her room right now. Would you like your key?”
Shit. It was true.
“No, it’s okay. We’ll come back later.”
He turned away and motioned for Paul to join him, the whole time his hand in his jacket pocket, fingers wrapped around the butt of Paul’s gun.
They got back outside without incident, and Darwin looked for a taxi. At first, he was surprised the guy hadn’t tried anything yet. But then he thought of Big John and how he’d looked after the car accident. This kind of man understood what it took to take down someone like Big John. For him to do it in handcuffs would intimidate them to no end.
He hailed a cab with all the confidence of a man in complete control. He knew Paul wouldn’t run. Bullets were faster and, as far as Paul knew, Darwin had two guns on him.
When the taxi pulled up, Darwin stood on one side and ordered Paul in first. Then he bent down to watch as Paul shut his door.
“Lock it,” Darwin said.
Paul did.
Then Darwin slid in beside him.
“Where to?” the cab driver asked.
Out of the driver’s line of sight, Darwin withdrew Paul’s gun and rested it on his lap, pointed at Paul.
“Tell him where to go.”
Paul looked down at the gun and then up at the driver.
“Take us to Via Roma in the Eur Zone.”
The driver nodded and they started off.
Rome’s allure tempted Darwin to look out the window and take it all in, but he couldn’t. The afternoon was waning, the sun dropping and his wife was a prisoner because of him. The man sitting next to him was supposed to deliver Darwin to the Fuccini boss, but Darwin was coming to surprise them instead.
The man beside him was dangerous.
But Paul thought Darwin was the dangerous one.
I’d do good to remember that and act the part, he thought.
He tilted his head a little and stared at Paul like he was angry again.
This is crazy. I’m not a mobster. I can’t do this. How am I supposed to scare these guys?
Paul stared out the window. He kept his hands on his lap and waited until the cab ride was over.
The driver eased up a building at least five stories high. It appeared pretty modern for Rome, with glass windows and an art deco front.
“That’s thirty-eight euros,” the driver said.
Darwin pulled two twenty euro bills out of his inner jacket pocket and handed them forward.
“Get out,” he told Paul.
They exited in unison. The cab drove away from the curb and Darwin got off the street before he got hit. Cars raced up and down Via Roma without any regard for safety. A horn blared and then another. He almost turned to see what was happening, but refrained so he could keep his eyes on Paul.
“Okay, we made it this far. Now, where is the boss?”
Paul turned to the glass building. “Up there. Top floor.”
“What office or room number will I find my wife?”
“First off, I have no idea where, exactly, your wife is. I’ve been at Termini all day watching for you. Second, there is no room number. The Fuccini family own the building and the boss’s office takes up the whole floor. But it won’t be easy getting in.”
Darwin cocked his head to the side. “Why’s that?”
The sun had dropped behind the buildings in its final descent. Tension in Darwin’s stomach caused him to consider abandoning this until tomorrow. He couldn’t operate out at night, in the dark. Paul’s face was cast in the golden light, making him look like he was smiling.
“Because, whenever the boss is up there, extra security detail is called in and the elevators are put on service. That means no one can get up there without using the stairs, which are guarded.”
Darwin stood on the cement sidewalk and listened to Paul tell him that they’d come all this way for nothing. Paul had acted scared and compliant. Now he looked smug, and he talked with attitude. What had happened? How had his attitude shifted?
“What do you propose I do?”
Paul laughed. “You didn’t think I was going up with you, did you?”
“Actually, you are.”
“Yeah right. Fuccini would kill me if I went up there and let you walk right in.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
Darwin’s stomach dropped further as the sun did. It would be dark soon. He couldn’t be out in the dark. He knew his fear was irrational, but it wasn’t a choice. It was just that way.
Paul wasn’t making sense either. Back at Termini Station, he’d been intimidated. Now he talked like he had it all going on.
“So kill me,” Paul said. He opened his jacket at the chest area and said, “Shoot me right here. Come on.”
The guy’s crazy. Darwin couldn’t shoot him. He didn’t even know how to use the gun.
Before Darwin could react, Paul was on him. It was a mad rush, he was hit with a blind sucker punch. Then another.
Darwin was falling, trying to keep his balance, his arms pinwheeling. He instinctively knew that if he fell, he wouldn’t be getting back up.
Paul threw all his weight on him in that second.
Darwin landed on his back, the wind rushing from his lungs, Paul tossing punch after punch, in the stomach, the side and a couple in the arms.
Then it was over as fast as it started. Paul got up, breathing fast and hard.
“You fucking idiot. You thought you had the jump on me?” he screamed.
Darwin wiped blood from the edge of his mouth. He reached for the gun in his jacket, but it was gone.
“That’s right. Got my gun back.” He turned the gun sideways. “See this here. That’s called a safety. You can’t fire the gun without the safety turned off.” He looked down at Darwin, who lay there collecting his breath, as the lights slowly dimmed on Rome. “The whole time you thought you had me. You couldn’t even fire a gun. Actually, have you ever fired a weapon?”
Paul searched Darwin’s face for an answer. Then he laughed and slapped a knee. “You haven’t, have you? Holy shit, are you ever a fucking amateur. And the boss has everyone afraid of you. Damn, is he going to be happy when I deliver you.”
Paul leaned down and grabbed Darwin’s jacket pocket where he’d stashed the pencil. He ripped it out and looked at it dumbfounded.
“A pencil. A fucking pencil. Lead poisoning? Are you fucking kidding me? This is royal. This, I gotta tell the boys.” He looked down at Darwin. “Get up. Get on your feet.”
Darwin had no idea what to do. The sun continued its descent. A mafia hit man stood in front of him. A hit man with a gun and not afraid to use it.
And the sun is going down, Darwin reminded himself.
His reality shifted for real. Maybe he was going crazy after all. If they had Rosina and they were going to kill him, then what was the point of living? What was it all for?
“I said, get up.” Paul stepped closer and kicked Darwin in the stomach.
The blow knocked the wind out of him. He curled around and got on his hands and knees. He thought about his stepmother. He thought about all the times he sat in that dark room and got poked. He thought about blood, and Big John’s face came to him, neck split open, blood on his face, his shoulder, his arm.
Darwin got up slowly. Paul was talking about how he could never have taken Darwin prisoner and got him to the Fuccini building so easily. It was much better to go as a willing captor. He thanked Darwin for the pleasure of delivering himself.
Then a streetlight turned on overhead. The day had fallen victim to night and its ever present darkness. Darwin shook as the darkness gripped him. He felt blind, he felt lost, but most of all he felt anger that he could be in this position. That he was the weak one again.
“Move,” Paul ordered with a flourish of the gun.
Darwin wiped the rest of the blood from the edge of his mouth, used both hands to straighten out his jacket, took a deep breath, and said, “No. Fuck you.” Then he spat out a red gob that landed on Paul’s lapel.
“Ohhh, you are so dead for that,” Paul seethed.
“Uh, uh, uh,” Darwin said, wagging his finger back and forth. “Temper, temper.”
Paul lunged, but this time Darwin was ready. He braced his legs and shoved with everything he had. The two men connected at the chest, arms grappling for a hold. Darwin lifted his leg up and kneed Paul between the legs.
Paul yelped and instantly lost his footing. Darwin redoubled his efforts, pushing Paul as he shouted out in triumph. Off the curb and out into the street. A horn blared. A car swerved, and still Darwin pushed.
Paul’s resistance gave out and he started to fall. Darwin shoved one last time and turned around to jump out of the way.
Too many cars were coming. He made a choice and leap-frogged the trunk of a car. He cleared the road and hit the sidewalk, his breath coming in waves.
He looked for Paul, expecting to see a raised weapon.
Paul hadn’t been so lucky. He sat on the road, his legs useless and broken. A car screeched to a halt after it had run over his thighs. More cars were coming. They were going too fast.
A BMW tried to slow, but waited too long. Paul screamed and then the bumper connected with his face, almost knocking his head clean off.
What remained of Paul’s face was driven into the cement of the road. Blood squirted out like a stepped-on ketchup package.
For the first time since he’d started this, he wondered if he’d throw up.
Everyone’s attention was on the accident. Darwin had to get out of there. He had to become unseen. There could be no witnesses connecting him to this. How the Fuccini family knew that Darwin had run away from Big John’s van earlier, he had no idea. That meant all the cops on Fuccini’s payroll would be looking for him. Adding Paul’s death to the list meant Darwin would never be able to leave Italy again. They’d have him tied up in court for years, and his Canadian Embassy had no teeth.
Fuck, the Canadian government has no teeth. They’re all asshole wimps, except for Rob Ford, but he only runs Toronto.
Darwin limped away, trying to act as normal as he could, considering the injuries Paul had just bestowed on him.
He chastised himself for not grabbing Paul’s gun. Now what was he going to do? He had no weapon. No way to get into a heavily guarded building and a dead man outside the front of that building.
Wait, maybe that could play into things a bit.
He walked around the edge of the Fuccini office tower and looked back to the road. The traffic had all but stopped. People milled around and others ran out of the front of the building where they held Rosina.
Perfect. Just as I thought. Members of the Fuccini security detail are investigating what happened.
The dark closed in. Another man was dead. The stakes had risen. There was no going back now. It was Fuccini or him.
Fuccini won’t even see me coming.