Echoes of a Distant Summer (88 page)

“You’re a real bastard!” Edward commented as he stepped out from behind a plastic-covered stack. “Mickey was going to be a made man, but you fucked that for him.”

Paul spat on the ground. “He got what traitors get!”

Edward scoffed, “What should you get? You’re a traitor too, aren’t you? You’ve jeopardized your family’s political plans! Despite all the warnings we gave you! Bobbie, Duke, drag Vazzi’s body inside!”

Duke bent down over Vazzi and heard a gasp. Duke looked up at Edward. “He ain’t dead, boss.”

Edward answered, “He will be soon. He’s shot through the lungs and he isn’t one of ours. Drag him inside.”

“I see you’re treating him like a traitor too,” Paul sneered.

Edward looked at Paul and smirked. “Vazzi came to us after you killed Joe Bones. He thought you implicated him by killing Bones shortly after he left Las Vegas.”

“I didn’t kill Joe Bones!” Paul protested. “Vazzi went to Las Vegas to deliver the jet, nothing more. It was a gesture of respect!”

Edward chuckled disbelievingly and turned to the two other men. “Vince, Pascal! Take Paul inside the building too. If he tries anything, shoot him in the legs. Try not to kill him. We need to turn him over alive. Then I want to take a quick look around for this money. What happened to that wimp Witherspoon? We’ve got to find him and squeeze him until he tells us where the money is. We’ve got to hurry. We don’t want the cement to harden too much. Witherspoon and Vazzi have to be stuffed into it!”

Vince moved his big body forward and grabbed Paul’s arm. He pushed Paul none too gently toward the trailer. Tall and lean, Pascal Langella stepped out from his hiding place and walked on the other side of Paul. Pascal had a long, pale, cavernous face, heavy with five o’clock shadow, and when he looked at Paul, he gave him a cold, saturnine smile.

Paul, anxious not to show fear, bantered with Pascal. “Hey, Pascal, did you ever catch up with Dominique? She’s a pretty tricky little bitch, isn’t she? When do you think you’ll nail her?”

“Forget about it!” Pascal retorted, shoving Paul roughly. “I ain’t got time for your fucking questions! You probably told her I was coming to town!”

Paul straightened his jacket defiantly then sneered, “If I had told her, asshole, you’d be lying dead like the rest of those bozos you brought with you.”

Without warning, Langella hit Paul on the back of his head with a
sap. Paul stumbled forward and fell against a stack of culvert pipes. He didn’t lose consciousness, but his legs went stiff and he was dazed and disoriented. He leaned against the pipes a moment to gather himself. When his eyes were able to focus, he turned to face Langella, who was preparing to hit him again. Before Paul could set himself, there was a rush of air and something hit him numbingly hard in the chest and careened off. He did not get a chance to see what it was because the force of the blow knocked him off his feet. The pain in his chest was immense, but there was no blood. He pushed himself to a sitting position and discovered he couldn’t breathe. He coughed and choked, then inhaled. With each breath, shafts of pain shot across his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vince coming toward him, firing his pistol. Two bullets hit the pipes to the left of his head and caromed off. Paul ducked down. The pain in his chest was making him dizzy. He heard Vince shout in his gravelly voice, “The goddamn bastard! He set us up! I’ll kill him myself! The fucking—!”

Paul didn’t want to be shot cowering, so he sat up with an effort. He saw Vince fall over backward, the top of his head blown away. Whoever was shooting was somewhere behind him and was a very good shot. From where he sat, Paul could see Langella’s body. He figured that Langella couldn’t be alive with his legs and arm bent like that. Bobbie was lying in the middle of an aisle, his eyes wide open and unblinking. Duke and Edward had taken cover. Paul didn’t have the strength to move. A bullet had glanced off his bulletproof vest. Considering its power, had it been a straight-on trajectory it would have penetrated his vest and he would probably be dead. The pain in his chest was still debilitating. He had to limit himself to shallow breaths; anything deeper was pure agony.

Edward called out, “Who do you have shooting at us, Paul?”

“Damned if I know!” Paul wheezed, wincing from the effort. “It could be her! It could be Dominique!”

“Well, whoever it is, you better call them off!”

Edward’s demand almost made Paul laugh. “Why? What are you going to do, kill me?”

“Yes, but slowly.” A shot rang out and the toe of Paul’s shoe disappeared. It took everything he had not to scream. The pain was now so great that he had to grit his teeth just to breathe without moaning. From what he could see, at least two of the toes on his right foot were gone.
Blood and bits of flesh blocked any further examination. He tried to crawl out of view, but there was no way he could find cover for his legs.

Paul called out as loud as the pain in his chest would permit, “These aren’t my people! I don’t know who’s shooting at us! I swear on my mother’s soul!”

“Can you believe this fuck, Duke? He’s bringing up my aunt! Like that will help his situation! Shoot him in the other foot!”

Another shot was fired and it hit Paul’s ankle. He experienced another sudden flaring of unbearable pain, then he passed out.

Jackson’s voice called out, “Come on out, Edward! If you want to live, it’s time to talk!”

“Who the hell are you? You must not know what you’re mixing in! My people will hunt you down if it takes all your life to catch you!”

“Your people won’t do shit! And you’re about to be alone!”

There was a barrage of whizzing bullets. Duke grunted and rolled out into the aisle. Edward stared at him, looking for signs of life. There were none. His chest and stomach were covered with blood. Edward took a deep breath. Duke had been wearing a bulletproof vest. Whatever ammunition they were using made vests irrelevant.

“There’s your last man, Edward. You came with four and now there’s none. You want to die there, or do you want to talk?”

Edward quickly reviewed his options, which were extremely limited. He knew he was dead if he remained where he was. He moved, trying to back out of his position, but bullets kicked up dirt in the place he was trying to move to.

“You either throw down your weapon or plan on dying where you squat!”

Edward threw out his gun and stood with his hands up. “Okay! Okay, I’m coming out!” He stepped into the aisle. Jackson and Dominique advanced to meet him. He knew Dominique, but he stared at Jackson for a moment then demanded, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Jackson Tremain, King Tremain’s grandson. Your foolish cousin thought he was going to run over me, but he’ll be going to a secret graveyard now along with your goons.”

Edward was confused. He had only thought that he was dealing with Paul. He didn’t see the connection that would cause Jackson to insert himself in a family altercation. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Edward, you’re a businessman.” Jackson gestured to Dominique.
“We’re both businesspeople too. You’re trying to go legitimate, so are we. You have an election to win, we can help you.”

“How?”

“We can make sure that certain information never comes to light. For example, your father and your sister used to own several holding companies which appear to have received nearly three million dollars from Paul’s Bahamas bank account. This money seems to have made its way into your father’s campaign coffers, although it was never declared to the IRS in any personal returns.”

A man came up and spoke in Jackson’s ear. Jackson carried on a brief conversation with the man then indicated the bodies with a wave of his hand. The man bent over Paul’s supine body and said, “This one’s alive. A bullet must’ve hit his ankle gun, because it looks like his own gun shot off his foot.”

“Good,” Jackson replied with a cold smile. “Throw some water on him and when he wakes up prod him about our friends from Louisiana and Mexico. One way or the other, he’s going into the cement. Have him taken inside.” The man nodded and beckoned to two other men who were awaiting his signal to appear. They brought large pieces of heavy, translucent plastic in which to drag the bodies and immediately set to moving them into the building. Jackson turned to Edward. “Why don’t we go inside. My cleanup team needs space to operate.”

Edward was still confused. He was trying to figure out who Jackson really was. It appeared that he had a professional team that was used to dealing with both the killing and disposal of their enemies. He was not sure he wanted to go inside. The thought that he might be tortured made his stomach turn. Stalling for more time to reconcile his thoughts he demanded, “How do I know you’ve got proof for any of these allegations?”

Dominique held up a ledger. “Paul wrote down everything. And it looks like he had you sign some of these transfers. Plus, we’ve got the signed statement of an accountant regarding some of his questionable money transactions. There’s no doubt that there are sufficient questions raised by the records found in the fire that if these are added to it, the whole election could be jeopardized.”

Jackson interjected, “Your whole family could be arrested and that doesn’t even include the crime of murder.”

“Murder? What murder?”

“Alive or dead, when you leave here, your fingerprints will be all over the weapons used here this evening! And the location of these weapons will be kept secret until such time as they are needed.”

“And if that’s not enough,” Dominique added, “there’s Joe Bones. Rumor has it Paul did the job for you because Joe was making a move on the DiMarcos. It would really be terrible for your family if evidence should come to light that revealed there was animosity between Bones and you.”

Edward barked, “You have such information?”

Jackson ignored his question and gestured toward the community center building. “Shall we?”

Edward felt his heart sink as he turned to walk in front of Jackson and Dominique. An investigation into financial wrongdoing could be tied up in the courts for years, but murder was a different matter. His political future was now compromised, but potentially he could lose even more. If there was evidence linking the DiMarcos to Bones’s murder, there would be Mob retaliation. Edward might have to be sacrificed for the family’s greater good.

They entered the building through a double door and walked into a huge, cavernous room illuminated by large halogen lights. To the right of the door along the wall there was a long rectangular pit about four feet deep. As he watched, the bodies of his men were being rolled into the pit. It sickened him. It had taken him nearly a decade to assemble four men he trusted and now in one night, they were gone. A man who had no trusted cadre had no one to perform dangerous errands or protect his back. Years of work down the drain. Jackson interrupted Edward’s thoughts.

“Have a seat.” Jackson pointed to some metal folding chairs around a similarly constructed folding table.

Edward did as he was bidden and took a seat facing Jackson. He kept the malevolence off his face, but in his heart he was raging against Jackson. Somehow this particular Negro had just stuck out his big, black feet and squashed everything that Edward had been working for. His life now would have to be lived in relationship to his enemy’s power over him. He did not fancy the prospect of future dealings with Jackson, yet he knew there would be many.

Jackson and Dominique sat down across from Edward. Jackson said, “I’ve worked hard to make sure your family seems to have considerable
involvement in Paul’s drug business. For example, we left a few things in your cousin’s safe that will implicate him in the hit on John Tree. There is also a note from your father’s campaign committee thanking Paul for a sizeable donation. There should be a number of different agencies interested in investigating whether Paul was acting alone, or whether he was representing your family.”

“So it was you who started the fire at the restaurant?” Edward questioned and Jackson nodded in response. He had been baffled at the connection between Jackson and Paul, a connection that would cause Jackson to burn down the restaurant, but now he was remembering vaguely the explanation Paul had given him and Vince about Tremain’s grandsons. It was obvious, contrary to Paul’s description, that he had aroused a very dangerous man, a man who had both the means and the willingness to conduct a costly war. Edward needed time to think. He was ready to promise anything for his life. He would consult with his father later and develop a plan of action. He asked, “What do you want of me?”

Dominique said, “I want the restaurant. I’ll pay five hundred thousand cash to his wife and kids through an attorney or under the table. However they want it. I’ll take it over and run it right, and you’ll do a campaign fund-raiser there when I get it rebuilt.”

Edward asked, “Is this the money that Paul was coming here for?”

Dominique pushed her long black hair out of her face. “Someone had to take it.”

Edward looked back and forth from Dominique to Jackson then asked, “What more do you want from me?”

“We want your jacket. We’ll bury that with one of the bodies to tie you to the scene. As for the deed to the restaurant, deliver it tomorrow to the law offices of Johnson, Wyland and Johnson. If anything happens to Dominique or myself, not only will all information make it to the press and relevant law enforcement agencies, but a full-scale war will begin against your family. It will be scorched earth and everyone will be considered a combatant. If your father wins the election, he won’t live long enough to enjoy it!”

“I don’t have the authority to make this deal.”

Dominique smiled sweetly. “Call your father! We know he’s waiting to hear from you.”

“Better yet, take a few days,” Jackson suggested. “Oh, here come the
weapons. It’s time for you to show off your grip. After that, you’ll spend a couple of hours at a nearby motel with friends then you’ll be released. By the way, not all of the bodies will be buried here. We may want a few of them more accessible just in case.”

Edward asked though clenched teeth, “How do I contact you?”