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WingZ · Site Admin Joined: 15 Aug 2008 Posts: 127

V.
“Come on,” the smaller man said. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Wyck heard the words pass into his ears, but they failed to register. His mind was elsewhere.

“Angela,” he said, with a hint of desperation. “Where’s Angela?”

The larger man cracked his knuckles. It was a gesture to dissuade further questions and one Wyck would heed...for now.

They piled in to a light colored Cadillac; the rat-faced man at the wheel, Wyck in the back seat and the big, balding lug squeezed in beside him. The ride was silent and the two men barely acknowledged his presence, save for the driver’s contemptuous glare in the rearview mirror every now and then. Keep it up, Wyck thought, I’ve disposed of your kind before.

The voyage terminated about 35 minutes after in began in the kind of neighborhood whose property tax bills could bring a man to tears. Parking at the foot of a long driveway, the smaller man got out and held the rear door open. Wyck emerged, the larger man a constant presence behind him. They whisked him promptly past the side of the large, stately manor, beyond a sparkling pool and into a thriving, verdant garden. Roses and tulips mingled alongside a healthy smattering of vegetables and neatly trimmed bushes, while tall trees provided the shade. If this is the end, Wyck thought, at least I’ll go out in a suitable place.

An old man stood in the middle of it, watching a brilliant red cardinal peck tentatively at an elaborate birdfeeder. The man was tall, but graceful with a full head of white hair and a healthy tan. Wyck’s two abductors seemed to wilt slightly in his presence.

“The males are a lot more colorful,” the old man said, gazing at the bird. “It’s the damndest thing.”

Wyck was about to offer an explanation, when it suddenly dawned on him who the birdwatcher was. That revelation prompted him to offer a different kind of explanation entirely.

“Mr. Caponegro, I can explain…” he began.

The larger man cut him off mid-sentence with a swift blow to the abdomen. He doubled over and gasped for air, amazed at how quickly the blow had come.

“You don’t talk to Mr. Caponegro, Mr. Caponegro talks to YOU,” he said in a menacing rasp.

“Pete,” the old man admonished. “Easy, huh?”

“Sorry, Cap.”

Wyck took a few breaths and eventually pulled himself upright once more. Joe Caponegro was looking at him with the same intense curiosity he’d shown toward that bird.

“You,” he said, dragging out the word. “I’m very disappointed in you. You should never have taken that contract from Danny. No, I know you weren’t going to go through with it, but you still should have come to me. To ME! Now what am I gonna do with you?”

Big Pete cracked his knuckles once more, while his smaller partner dipped his hands in his pockets. It’s not so bad, Wyck told himself. They beheaded the conspirators of old and they publicly hung the Pazzi. At least this would be comparatively quick. He wondered if Angela was watching from somewhere. He hoped she was.

Caponegro cleared his throat. “But the fact is, you still did the right thing,” he said. “I’m from the older generation. Where I come from, we place a lot of value on family. You understand what I’m saying?”

Wyck nodded.

“Good. Then maybe you’ll understand this. I’ve been married 37 years. If I came home one day and saw my wife’s hand lying on a table, God forbid, there’s no telling what I might do. Just no telling at all.”

It was an apology, Wyck thought. He wasn’t going to come out and say it, but it was an apology. And while Wyck didn’t believe any words could do an ounce of good after what had happened, he felt something like relief flow inside him.

“You’re done with us,” Caponegro told him. “I don’t wanna see you again, not at any of our bars or our clubs or our card games. And I definitely don’t want you coming near my niece again. You hearing me?”

“Yes,” said Wyck.

“One more thing, professor. You decide you want to teach again, call the headmaster at St. Michael’s Academy and tell him I recommended you. They could use some new people, ones who know not to give them trouble.”

“Thank you,” Wyck said, still stunned by what had just happened. But the old man had already gone back to watching the bird.

“Come on,” the smaller man said. “I’ll give you a lift.”

Wyck gave him a slight, slackjawed nodded and followed him back toward the Cadillac. He rounded the side of the house and stopped dead in his tracks. Angela was out in front, waiting for him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But this was the only way. I mean, it wasn’t gonna work between us.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Wyck said flatly.

“You take care of yourself,” she told him.

“You do the same.”

She blew him a kiss and watched as he made his way to the car, walking with the slow, deliberate gait of a man who hadn’t been on his feet in a very long time. That parting image of her – hand extended, lips pressed together, hint of sadness in her eyes - would remain etched in his mind all throughout the ride home. And then when he was alone, he treated himself to a long, primal scream.

Danny sat uncomfortably on the leather couch, scooping handfuls of peanuts into his mouth as he watched the football game on the big screen in his den. It was college ball and he had no personal connection to either team, but he was desperately wishing for State to get its act together so his bookies wouldn’t take a beating.

“Come on, ya lousy fucking bums,” he snarled. “Run the goddamn ball already. Enough of this short-yardage pass shit.”

His ranting was interrupted by a knocking at the door. He nearly yelled for Angela to get it, then remembered she wouldn’t be around to serve that function anymore. Celine would take over in time, but for now he was on his own.

The door opened and in stepped big Pete and ratfaced Mikey, from the Caponegro crew. Danny thought their timing left much to be desired.

“You believe this shit?” he asked.

“Rough day,” Pete rasped.

“Madon, we’re gonna get some light envelopes this week,” said Mikey. He even managed to sound like a rat. “Come on, Joe wants to see you.”

“Now?” Danny asked. “What for?”

“’the fuck should I know?”

Danny sighed and reached for his brown leather jacket. It was too warm for it, but he liked to look his best, especially in front of the boss. He followed Mikey out the door and big Pete stepped out behind him.

“I’ll follow you guys there,” he said, taking a few steps toward his Lexus.

“Come on,” Mikey insisted. “With gas prices these days…”

“Ah, fine,” said Danny.

As he got into their Cadillac, his thoughts turned to the football game, his mistress and the psycho ex-school teacher he planned on dealing with tomorrow.

Celine Daniels leaned against the hood of the small red sports car, chatting away on her cell phone. She wore tiny denim shorts that showed plenty of leg and a turquoise halter top. Thin, backless sandals sat upon her small feet and a scrunchi kept her mane of long, blonde hair in check.

Wyck watched her from the SUV at a distance. It was the second time he’d done reconnaissance the past week and he fancied that he was getting quite good at it. It was nice to know he had a fallback career as a mercenary if he couldn’t readjust to the classroom, Wyck thought, but it wasn’t a path he was likely to take.

The duffel bag was packed and ready on the seat beside him. He patted it for assurance and gave Celine another glance. She was still talking. There was no need to rush.

She’d worked at one of Danny’s clubs, but he’d described her as something special.

“She’s got talent,” he’d said. “And I don’t just mean at shaking her ass.”

Wyck never got to hear what he did mean by that. Braggart he may be, Danny knew better than to share too much of his business, even with men he hired to commit murder.

Across the street, Celine had just gotten off the phone. She dismounted from the hood of the car and was walking around to the driver’s side door when Wyck approached her.

“Eeep!” she exclaimed. “You scared me.”

“My apologies, Celine.”

Her face contorted itself into a confused scowl. “How did you know my name?”

Wyck smiled. “I think it would be provident for you to come with me,” he said. This time, he wasn’t going to take no as an answer.
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