Fatal Page 3

  ‘I can’t, Fran, it’s probably worth about three million dollars with a street value of more. Salvatore’s not going to accept that I just threw away his coke, especially after he finds out his niece is dead.’

  ‘What else can you do, Cab?’

  ‘Fran, they’ll kill me. You know what the brothers are like. They’ll chop me up in pieces and feed me to their dogs if I can’t replace their coke. I just haven’t got that kind of money.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘What?’

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Franny repeated what she’d just said. ‘I have. I can get you two million pounds.’

  ‘I … I … don’t know what to say.’

  ‘You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me when you put the phone down you’ll get rid of the coke and then call 911.’

  ‘Fran, I can’t take your—’

  ‘I said, promise me!’

  With overwhelming relief, Cabhan whispered, ‘I promise.’

  ‘Good. Because I’m not going to lose you, Cab. I love you. Throughout my life you’ve always been there for me, and now it’s my turn to be there for you. And when I put this phone down, you’re going to get help and I’m going to get on the earliest plane and come out there. Book yourself into a hotel room, lie low for now and call no one.’

  ‘But what about Salvatore? I’ll have to tell him about Ally.’

  ‘No, leave that to the police. What you’ve got to do is once you’re off that mountain, get hidden and stay hidden. We’ll face Salvatore together … I’ll see you soon.’

  As the line went dead, Franny closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Cabhan. She’d known him all her life and regarded him as her second father, even if that ‘anything’ was taking the two million pounds Alfie and Vaughn had entrusted to her. The money that was meant to start their new business in England. The money they were waiting on and the money she was supposed to smuggle out of the country the day after tomorrow. Two million pounds. Alfie and Vaughn’s two million pounds. The men’s entire fortune.

  At Malaga Airport waiting for her flight to Gatwick, which would then take her on to Denver, Colorado, Franny Doyle pulled out her phone and began to text.

  Please don’t be angry, Alfie, but something’s come up. It’s probably better if u don’t know what. But trust me when I say I wish it could be different. I won’t b coming to England. One day you’ll understand why I’ve done this. If it’s any consolation, I do love u. F.

  Hearing her flight call, Franny turned off her phone. She wouldn’t allow herself to have any regrets. This was something she just had to do and, if Alfie loved her the way he said he did, well, then he’d just have to understand. Two million pounds’ worth of understanding.

  4

  Alice Rose skipped through the freshly cut meadow counting the white fence posts as she twirled around the trees, moving rhythmically in the warm Iowa breeze. This was her very favourite time of year, when all around her was an explosion of colours and scents.

  The problem was, though, the happiness she felt often distracted her from giving a prayer of thanks for everything she had, and she knew that was wrong. Sinful. Her mother had warned her and her friend, Isaiah Thomas, on a daily basis what would happen if they forgot to say their prayers. She would be damned to eternal hell, cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the Devil and his angels, and that was something she certainly didn’t want to happen.

  Shivering at the thought, Alice decided she needed to try harder to remind herself that none of it would be possible without the good Lord’s grace, especially a day like today. Only this morning her father had called to say that Franny was coming to visit them and, even though she missed Isaiah, she couldn’t help but feel excited that Franny was making the trip.

  The love she felt for Franny was the same love she’d felt towards her own mother; she was good and kind and compassionate. God-fearing values, as her mother would say. Then, delighted just at the idea of Franny’s trip to see her, a surge of pure joy ran through Alice. She jumped in the air, spinning around, feeling like the warm winds were sending her soaring towards the sun.

  ‘Alice! Alice! Is that any way to behave? I don’t think the Lord would approve of such behaviour, do you?’

  Alice’s long corkscrew curls tumbled over her beautiful brown face, chaotically dotted with freckles. She grinned at Sister Margaret, a nun whom most of the other girls found to be stern and unyielding, as she made them recite and write verses from the Bible each day, sit in silent reflection of their sins for hours on end – everything Alice’s mother had done, and so Sister Margaret made her feel safe, reminding her of the world she’d grown up in.

  Still skipping and spinning, coming across as much younger than her sixteen years, Alice laughed warmly, her words holding the purest sincerity. ‘Sister Margaret, I think the Lord would be delighted that I’m celebrating what he made. After all, weren’t you the one who taught us that this is the day that the Lord hath made, and therefore we should rejoice and be glad in it?’ She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully before adding, ‘Psalms 118, verse 24.’

  ‘Alice Rose, I hope you’re not being insolent?’

  Panting and with her cheeks glowing, Alice walked across to the nun. She smiled, looking slightly puzzled, her tone a blanket of kindness. ‘No, of course not, Sister Margaret! I was only saying that today like all days is a blessing …’ Alice stopped, furrowing her eyebrows before adding, ‘Am I wrong?’

  Sighing, Sister Margaret, slightly ashamed of her grouchiness in the face of such godliness, smiled back, taking Alice’s hands in hers.

  Even though Alice was sixteen, she worried about the child; she wasn’t cut out for the world they lived in. She’d been sheltered, brought up in a loving but strict religious community, and as much as Sister Margaret wished it wasn’t the case, Alice’s background was a huge obstacle, coming with far too many challenges for a teenager required to live in modern society.

  ‘No, I’m the one who’s wrong, doubting your integrity, I should know better. And it’s true, today is a blessing, like children are a blessing; a gift from God, and you, Alice Rose, are certainly that.’

  Alice grinned, blushing at the nun’s compliment. ‘Thank you, Sister Margaret … anyway, I’d better get on.’

  Skipping off, Alice wrinkled her nose, wincing as she heard the nun ask, ‘Alice, what have you got in your hands?’

  Swivelling around and dropping the mobile phone in the long grass, Alice decided that seeing as she had a good reason for not being entirely honest, the Lord would forgive her, and therefore she didn’t have to feel guilty about what she was about to say. ‘Nothing.’

  Sister Margaret’s tone was severe. ‘Alice, you do know what the Bible says about lying and liars, don’t you?’

  ‘I do, Sister Margaret … A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will perish. Proverbs 19, verse 9.’

  ‘It also says their throats are like open graves, with their tongues they deceive and the venom of poisonous vipers is under their tongue.’

  Paling, Alice stared at the nun as she whispered, ‘Romans 3, verse 13.’

  ‘Exactly. So I’ll ask you again, what have you got in your hands?’

  Swallowing hard and resolving that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea not to be completely truthful, Alice brought her hands from behind her back, shaking at the thought of the snakes.

  ‘There’s nothing in my hand.’

  Sister Margaret held Alice’s gaze. ‘Tonight in chapel, you’d do well to say an extra Hail Mary.’ And with that the nun walked away.

  Feeling deflated, Alice watched Sister Margaret disappear before daring to pick up the phone. She hadn’t wanted to lie and she hadn’t even seen it as a lie … well, not really, not like a real one anyway.

  Normally, she didn’t mind that they were only allowed their phones for a short time in the evening when supervised by the Sisters, but what she
had to do, she didn’t want anyone else to know about; she wanted it to be a surprise. So when she’d taken her father’s call in Sister Margaret’s office this morning, she’d also taken the opportunity to grab her phone out of the box they were kept in and slip it into her pocket.

  Trying to push the feeling of guilt aside, Alice walked towards the far meadow where Mac, the convent’s old dapple grey pony, was grazing.

  Tearing a large handful of grass, she walked towards him, talking warmly. ‘Here, boy, here you go … Come on, Mac, look what I’ve got for you.’

  Lifting his head for a moment then turning away uninterested – quite satisfied with the grass already in his paddock – Mac sauntered off, leaving Alice to sit down by the large basswood tree.

  She sighed deeply, worried about her father. He’d sounded strange – stressed – when they’d spoken this morning, and although she’d asked him if everything was all right and he’d told her he was fine, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

  Perhaps he was working too hard, maybe business was bad … Not that she knew exactly what it was he did. Something to do with selling insurance was all he’d said when she’d asked. But it was obvious he was not feeling his best, which was even more of a reason for her doing what she was about to.

  She wanted to do something special for him, something nice for his birthday next week. After all, he deserved it. He was always thinking about her or about Franny, making sure that everyone else was all right, and often neglected himself. So, this year she decided that she was going to make a fuss of him, and hopefully that might cheer him up.

  Pulling out a piece of paper from her pocket, Alice began to dial a number. It rang twice before being answered.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘My name’s Alice Rose. You don’t know me, but I’m the daughter of Cabhan Morton.’

  5

  The splattering of blood covered the shower walls as Nico Russo stamped his boot into Don Lombardi’s face. Don was a small-time crook who’d spent most of his life in and out of penitentiaries, but it was obvious to Nico that the one lesson prison life hadn’t taught him was the most basic lesson of all: never steal from your own. So now he had to remind Don of exactly what happened to anyone who skipped that class.

  ‘Hey, Don, had enough yet? What was that?’

  Nico jumped in the air, bringing his foot down from a height. The weight and severity was so great that Don’s mouth immediately flooded with blood while his front teeth were pounded out of his gums. Nico stamped his boot further towards the back of Don’s mouth, pushing the rest of his teeth out of the way.

  Avoiding the jets of water from the large communal showerheads, Nico crouched down, panting from the exertion, inches away from hair-coiled soapsuds that mixed with Don’s body fluids on the cracked tile floor.

  Nico’s tone was calm, reassuring. ‘Don, mio amico, my friend, I want to give you the chance to tell your side of the story. I want to know if it’s true what they said you did.’

  There was silence save the running water and the gurgling noises from Don Lombardi struggling to gasp for air. Nico pulled a face. ‘I’ll ask you again. Is it true that you stole the phone? Tell me.’

  Sighing, Nico forced one hand in Don’s mouth, yanking it open before putting his fingers between Don’s bleeding gums to keep it open.

  Bringing his eyes up to his men, Nico nodded. ‘Give me them.’

  Then without a word, a tall dark-haired man who stood impassively by the shower entrance handed Nico a pair of scissors from out of his trouser pocket.

  Turning his attention back to Don, Nico said, ‘You see this, Don? This is what happens to people who disrespect my friends by stealing from them. Respect to me is more important than family. Rispetto. Respect. The one thing I ask of all who know me, because without it, we are all just animals … And as you have nothing to say to me, you won’t have any need of this.’

  Don Lombardi shook his head with terror as Nico yanked at his tongue, digging the sharp scissors through the flesh as he began to extract it.

  ‘Nico! Nico, do you have to do this in here?’

  As Don choked and convulsed on the floor in an agony beyond pain, Nico threw the severed tongue to one side before looking up at the prison warden. Officer Johnstone was just one of several on his payroll. In fact, most of the correction officers in the facility, whether voluntarily or by various levels of coercion, were on his payroll in some way or another. It made for an easier life, making the hellhole he was in slightly less of a hellhole.

  Armed and dressed in a dark green uniform, Officer Johnstone glanced down at Don Lombardi, his manner casual, almost weary. ‘Get this cleared up. You hear me, Russo? And for Christ’s sake, make sure someone takes him to medical.’

  Standing up, Nico brushed down his clothes, running his hands under the icy showers to wash away the blood. He turned to smile at his men, though his tone was ominous and taunting, something Johnstone didn’t fail to miss. ‘You heard him. Clear this mess up. Capito? Understand? We’d hate to upset the officer, wouldn’t we?’

  ‘Good, make sure you do by the time I get back.’

  Watching Officer Johnstone leave, Nico thought, as he seemed to every moment of every minute of every day, that he’d been behind bars far too long. Eight years too long after one of his men had turned informer. A hazard of his trade and a reason to rule his empire like Satan himself.

  Johnny Milano had worked for him for over twenty years, but he’d squealed to the FBI like a sow on heat. And despite the fact he’d given Johnny his first break – had let him in to the heart of the Russo family and even paid for the cocksucker’s wedding to some two-dollar stripper from Long Island – Johnny Milano had repaid him by telling the feds everything he knew about the drug deals, the money laundering, the illegal shipping, the prostitution, the smuggling, the whole goddamn lot.

  But Nico had had a tip-off from someone on his payroll in the bureau and consequently managed to cover most of his tracks. The FBI couldn’t find anything that was going to stand up in court relating to any illegal activity, but ironically what they did find was in connection to tax evasion linked to some of the family’s legal businesses.

  The IRS had thrown the book at him and he’d been given fifteen years, and it looked like he was going to have to serve all fifteen. The parole board didn’t seem interested in letting the head of the Russo family back out on the streets.

  Though he’d sure as hell made Johnny Milano pay. Johnny had thought the FBI witness protection would keep him safe, but there was no such thing as protection for rats. No hiding place. His men had searched and they’d found the whole of the Milano family. The mother, the grandmother, the children, even the pet rabbits, along with the two-dollar stripper from Long Island. No one escaped revenge. Revenge had been Johnny Milano’s executioner and it would be anyone else’s who dared to cross him.

  ‘Nico.’

  Breaking his thoughts, Nico looked up to see Chris D’Amato, his cellmate – and a good friend – walk into the shower room. ‘It’s for you, Nico.’

  He held out a mobile phone.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘She says her name’s Alice Rose.’

  Nico Russo whirled the pool of blood – yet to be cleaned up – with the tip of his boot. He leant against the tiled wall, feeling the damp go through his prison shirt. Of all the calls he’d imagined he’d have, this certainly wasn’t one.

  His voice was low, calm. Warm. ‘Hello, Alice Rose, I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes, from Cabhan. Though I haven’t seen him in a while.’

  On the other end of the phone, Alice was eager. ‘So do you work with him?’

  Kicking Don Lombardi’s severed tongue to the side and signalling to Chris to pick it up, Nico smiled. ‘You could say that. Anyway, to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  Feeling happier, Alice’s tone was light.
‘I don’t know if Dad told you, but it’s his birthday next week.’

  ‘No, Alice, he didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Well, I was hoping to have a surprise party for him, do something nice, invite all his friends and work colleagues. Is that silly?’

  ‘Why would it be? I don’t think you ever get too old for a birthday party, do you? Well, I know I don’t, I’d want a party even when I’m too old to blow out the candles.’

  Delighted that Nico felt the same, Alice giggled. ‘Obviously, he doesn’t know I’m phoning you.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘And I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wondering, hoping, you could come. I’m going to get as many people together as I can, and we’ll have the party in the school hall. It’s only small, but I’m going to make some decorations, so it’ll look nice. I just want to make him happy. Will you come?’

  As Alice held her breath in anticipation, Nico looked up at the clear blue sky through the thick prison bars. ‘Alice, I’d love to, really I would, but the problem is, I’m a bit caught up here and won’t be able to make it. I’m sorry.’

  Disappointed, Alice said, ‘And there’s really no way?’

  ‘I’m sorry, honey, no way at all, but I tell you what, I could get my brothers to come. Salvatore and Bobby. They’d like that. They work with your dad, too.’

  ‘Do they?’

  Using the tip of the bloodied scissors to pick out a crumb in his teeth, Nico nodded. ‘Yeah. Your dad’s like family to us. He’s got a special place in all our hearts … You know, I’m so pleased you called me, Alice, this has really made my day. How did you get my number, by the way?’

  There was a pause before Alice sheepishly admitted, ‘Last time Dad came to see me, I took his phone so I could write down all the contacts. Is that really bad of me?’

  Nico winked at Chris D’Amato as he watched him drag Don Lombardi up onto his feet.

  ‘No, Alice, I wouldn’t call that bad. Believe me, I’ve done a lot worse myself.’

  ‘You have?’