The clerk put his hands in the air and stepped back. “Okay weirdo, that’s enough. You can leave now. I don’t know anyone named Fuccini and I have no idea what you’re talking about when you say contact point.”
Darwin grabbed him with his right arm and tried to pull him back. The guy spun with lightning speed, both hands wrapped onto Darwin’s forearm. He lifted up, spun again in a circle, throwing his hands above his head without letting go of Darwin.
With his arm twisted like a windmill, Darwin had to bend and roll with it. Before he registered what was happening, Darwin was off his feet and flipping in the air. He landed hard on his back, the clerk still holding his arm.
The clerk’s foot came down onto Darwin’s chest and applied pressure.
“Are you that fucking stupid? Holy shit. You really are just some silly kid who got mixed in over your head. Boy, do I feel sorry for you.”
Darwin tried to twist away, but the clerk spun his arm to point where he thought it would break.
“Don’t try me. I’ll break your fucking arm.”
“What are you talking about?” Darwin asked. “You know me? You were expecting me?”
“After what you did at the hangar and then how crazy you were in Rome, everyone has heard of you. They hired me to sit here and see if you’d pop up. I had to serve all these asshole customers while I waited for you. I couldn’t believe my luck when you walked in.”
Darwin grunted from the pain. “You knew it was me?”
“I already called them. They’re on their way. A whole team of them. You actually got them scared. I looked at you and thought, this dude. No way. But they see you as some kind of killing machine. Cool, huh?”
“Yeah, real cool. Listen, ahh, could you lighten up on the arm a bit. It may break.”
“What, like this?”
The clerk released his arm, but both hands hovered an inch from Darwin’s arm. It was evident the guy wanted a fight. He wanted a challenge. He thought Darwin would try to yank his arm away, so it surprised the clerk when Darwin spun on the tiled floor and kicked the clerk’s feet out from under him in a classic foot-sweep move.
The guy was a serious pro. Even on the way down to the floor, he already had his arm coming out to attack Darwin when he landed.
As Darwin had thrown his foot out, he had reached into his pocket.
He aimed it just as the clerk hit the ground and attempted to elbow Darwin for his efforts.
Darwin shot a stream of bear spray, quite potent in the space of one foot from the container. The vile liquid entered the clerk’s mouth, nostrils and eyes as Darwin moved it around.
Darwin kept his eyes open only to a thin slit and held his breath while he sprayed.
The clerk tried to bring up his hands to ward off the attack, but ended up only swiping at his face and trying to roll away.
Finally, he stopped and rolled away himself.
He walked behind the counter, grabbed the phone and hit redial while the clerk still writhed on the floor, screaming about how it hurt so bad.
“Get me some water! Help me! Get it out!”
Darwin pressed the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” someone said.
“Fuccini?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Darwin Kostas.”
He heard the gasp even over the clerk’s wailing.
“I’m coming for you. However many men you’ve sent to this beautiful emporium won’t be enough. Double it. Unless you want to make a trade.”
“I’m listening.”
“Me for my father.”
“I figured you’d understand my needs one day. My men will be there in five minutes. Go with them and we’ll release your father.”
“No. It’ll be done on my terms.” Darwin pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the number. It was local. He committed it to memory, recited it twice and put the phone back to his ear. “I will call you at this number in two hours. Answer the phone, and I will tell you what to do. Then I will surrender myself to you. Do we have a deal?”
The clerk wailed on. He’d made it to his feet, eyes rushing water, his face, beet red. He used the wall to find his way to the back of the store where Darwin figured there was a washroom.
“I don’t have much choice if you won’t go with my men. It is obvious that getting you to do anything will be a chore, so we have a deal. But if you don’t call me, I will rip apart your father with my saw, and I will do it personally, and then I’ll come-”
“There’s no need for your petty threats, you pissant. I know what you’ll do. Just answer the fucking phone when I call. Don’t disappoint me, Fuccini, or I might start to get really angry.”
Darwin hung up, walked past the crying clerk near the back of the store, and then out. He turned the car on, flicked on the satellite radio until he found Iron Maiden. As Bruce Dickinson sang about how many minutes they had until midnight, Darwin waited. He saw Fuccini’s men pull up and run into the adult store, then he pulled away.
He had the perfect spot to do the exchange. Fuccini would be pissed.
He also had a surprise for him.
No one would see it coming.
Chapter 16
Darwin drove to the abandoned hangar, parked a kilometer away and sat in the BMW as the sun began its drop behind the horizon. He had his bear spray, a new flashlight and a new portable cell phone. As soon he had picked the phone up at the Rogers store, he programmed Fuccini’s number in it and then Isabella’s phone number.
Those would be the only two numbers he’d need.
He laid his head back on the seat while he waited. Ten minutes remained before he would call Fuccini.
On the heavy metal satellite radio station, Stone Sour’s lead singer, Corey Taylor, screamed about being reborn.
How appropriate, he thought.
Deep breathing, controlled thoughts and a prayer were all he had. Rosina was out there somewhere with the FBI, men he couldn’t trust anymore. His father was in peril and many people would probably die in the next few hours.
All because of Vincenzo. All because of vendettas, revenge and a mistakenly placed example of honor. How did doing the right thing get so fucked up? Why did humans have to kill each other in order to survive?
He steeled himself to get ready, make the call. It had to be done.
His father was old, frail. Darwin knew his dad would die for his son. But it wouldn’t end there. Eventually Fuccini would catch up with him and Rosina. A month from then, a year, five years. Fuccini wouldn’t stop. This was the only way. And if Darwin died, it was better than living with that threat over his head for another day.
Tonight, either Fuccini or Darwin would die.
He flipped off the radio and dialed Fuccini.
“Where?”
“The old abandoned airplane hangar in Buttonville. Bring my father. Don’t be too long, and you, personally, had better be here. I will not be giving myself up to a bunch of amateurs. I’m not a fan of the dark and the sun is setting, so hurry.”
Before Darwin hung up he could tell how much coming to the hangar upset Fuccini by his tell-tale gasp. The death of his son took place on the hangar’s soil. It would prove to be quite unsettling for Fuccini to visit the
