The Spirit Survives (31 page)

 
The girl laughed at him. Anger flashed and he put his hands around her throat as she laughed. She immediately stopped giggling, but the damage was done. He strangled the life from her body and she lay dead on the bed with a blank stare in her big brown dead eyes. The young man went to the bathroom and filled a glass with rubbing alcohol. He moved back to the bed and gouged out both eyes and placed them in the glass. Sandra’s eyes were still the most prized in his collection. More than any other woman, her eyes looked like his mother’s. Many more brown eyes had been added to his collection over the years, but he never had trouble with an erection after Sandra. He always took his prizes after tough violent sex performed with or without the consent of his partner. That history made the man what he was today, a successful and cunning criminal, successfully hiding his true identity from the world.
 

The Benefactor hated the small town of Green Bay but he needed to deal with Bastone. He had the suspicion for a while now that Bastone either knew or thought he knew his true identity. He had to protect that secret at all costs.

He grabbed his cell phone from the seat of his rented car and pushed in Bastone’s number. The Italian answered on the first ring.

“Why are you calling me now?” Bastone asked, recognizing the coded number on the caller ID.
 

“We need to set up a meeting,” the Benefactor said. “I want to cut you in on the reorganization of the Mexican drug cartels after Sergey and the cartels finish the killing. We’ve worked together long enough that I will trust you to know my true identity, and I want to partner with you and your mob on this. Let’s meet at the Black and Tan Grill in De Pere at seven this evening. Is that acceptable? I’ll recognize you when you arrive.”

Bastone was surprised at the invitation, but did not hesitate to accept. He had been waiting on this breakthrough for a long time.

The Benefactor grinned and pushed in the number of the next call. He used his contacts in the FBI to get Macy’s cell number, and she was the next step in his clean-up.

“Hello,” Macy answered on the second ring.

“Macy, I am known to you as the Benefactor. I have some valuable information that may save your life.”

“How did you get this number?” Macy responded.

“I’ve got connections everywhere. You should know that by now if you know anything about me,” the Benefactor said. “I know Bastone tried to kill you, and when he finds out that you survived, he’ll try again. You need to take action now.”

“How do you propose I do that?” Macy inquired.

“I know you’re familiar with the Black and Tan Restaurant. I’m aware of the deal you and Bastone worked there and the evening you spent with the Fixer. Nothing gets by me, Macy. Bastone will be at the Black and Tan at seven tonight. You’re smart enough to use that information to protect yourself. I’ll call you tomorrow to set up a face- to-face meeting. I want to work a deal with you. I promise it will be rewarding.”

With that said, he hung up the phone.

* * *

Macy was both astonished and gratified by the call. It was the first direct contact she had ever had with the Benefactor, and she had long wanted to know his identity. That information would be worth a lot of money with criminals, but most of all it could be an invaluable bargaining tool with the FBI. As far as she knew, they still trusted her and believed that she was deep undercover with La Cosa Nostra. Finding and capturing the Benefactor would make her a legend and would put the FBI in a position to forgive any illegal acts that may be uncovered.

Macy recognized that she had to deal with Bastone first. She knew him to be unrelenting, and if she didn’t get to him first, she would not be long for this world. Apparently, the Benefactor gave her the information so she could get rid of Bastone; however, it could be a set up if the Benefactor and Bastone were working together. She would have to use her skill and training as an FBI agent to avoid falling into a trap.

When Macy and Bastone surrendered Lopez and the girl to Sergey, she knew that it was done to initiate a war between the Russian mafia and the two Mexican drug cartels. If she could stage the killing of Bastone to make it look like revenge from the cartels for fingering them with Sergey, she would be in the clear from both La Cosa Nostra and the Russian Mafia. If she staged it perfectly, this would draw the Italian Mafia into the war between the Russian mafia and the cartels. If these major criminal organizations were fighting, the American public would save millions in taxpayer dollars to arrest and provide trials for members who would be killed in the war. It accorded her a feeling of satisfaction to know that maybe she could do some good after all.
 

She had stowed her Walther P-22 pistol with silencer in the trunk of her rental car. She retrieved the pistol and a sharp steak knife from the trunk. The time was 5:00 p.m. She had to stake out the restaurant at least ninety minutes ahead of time to make sure she wasn’t being set up. On the way to the Black and Tan she went through McDonald’s drive-through and ordered a Big Mac, fries, and a Diet Coke. She hadn’t eaten all day. When she arrived at the Black and Tan, she parked in the corner of the lot where the visibility was optimal and ate her feast while she observed the parking lot. After about an hour into the stakeout, a light rain began, which hampered her vision. She had to roll down her window, and soon her hair and face were wet with rain.
 

At 6:45 p.m., a black sedan pulled into the parking lot. The door opened and Bastone got out, holding an umbrella. Macy put on her gloves, started her car, put it in gear, and drove to the area where Bastone was walking. She pulled in front of him with her driver’s side facing him. He looked startled by the sudden appearance of the car.

She rolled down the window further, pointed the Walther at him and said, “Get in the car now, you bastard, or I shoot you where you stand.”
 

Bastone, seeing the pistol with the silencer, calmly walked to the passenger seat and got in. He showed no emotion or fear. “Good to see you Macy, why are you pointing the gun at me?”

“The Russians weren’t man enough to kill me, Bastone, and you weren’t man enough to attempt to do the job yourself. Now you must pay the price.”

Bastone just nodded and said, “We are both professionals. We can work this out.”

“I think we probably can, Bastone,” Macy replied. “Before we negotiate the deal, we need to move to your car.”

He just nodded, understanding that Macy held all the cards in this game.

She got out first and walked to the passenger side, keeping the pistol on him. He got out, and they walked to his car and entered. He sat on the driver’s side while Macy was on the passenger side. Both were damp from the drizzling rain.
 

“What’s your offer?” Macy asked calmly.
 

“Let’s go back to my hotel room, and I’ll give you all the money that Sergey paid me.”

“Sounds like a starting point,” Macy said. “First, tell me why you wanted me dead.”

Bastone stared into her gorgeous brown eyes. He recognized that he had to tell her the truth, or he was dead. “The Benefactor ordered it,” he said. For the first time his voice was shaky.

“And you do everything he asks?” she inquired.

“He’s a powerful man,” were Bastone’s last words.

Macy shot him in the heart. As he slumped forward, she put the gun to his neck and shot again. Blood spattered on the grey leather seats and the Italian drew his last gurgling breath. Macy knew how the drug cartels left their calling cards when they killed an informant. She took the knife out of her pocket and pulled the dead man’s head back. When it was resting on the seat, she reached into his mouth and pulled out his tongue. With her right hand, she carved off half the tongue and jammed it in the man’s right ear. This was the traditional way that Mexicans slaughtered and mutilated an informant. She wanted the word to get out that Bastone was murdered for telling Sergey that the cartels had killed his daughter. Of course, La Cosa Nostra wouldn’t stand still for this. They always took revenge when one of their own was killed.

Macy exited the car and calmly walked back to her vehicle. She opened the trunk and placed the gun, knife, and her bloody gloves in a plastic bag and placed the bag under her spare tire.
 

She knew this act would cement her relationship with the Benefactor. She decided to go back to her hotel room, get a good night’s sleep, and call the Benefactor in the morning. She felt as if the man had never dealt with anyone like her. She could control any man with her wits and her sensual body. The Benefactor didn’t stand a chance.
 

Chapter 69

After departing the airport, Rex and I decided to have a quick dinner and then start calling hotels. The Radisson Hotel was directly across the street from the airport, so we stopped there first. It was a cool summer night in Green Bay with a slow, misty rain falling from the overcast sky. The weather reflected my state of mind, but I was determined to function in an objective manner.

When checking with the desk clerk at the hotel, we found that there was no record of Bastone checking in, but we were told that Bo Lopez and Cherokee Alverez had stayed there for one night on the day before Veronika Ivanova was killed.
 

We proceeded to the Pine Tree Grill in the hotel and had a very good dinner of grilled shrimp.
 

I remembered the night when Leah and I first arrived in Green Bay and we had dinner in this same restaurant. We laughed about the appetizer of fried cheese curds, which we enjoyed. If only a human could turn back time and change one thing. If I had not decided to go to Lookout Mountain, none of this would be happening. Sometimes the smallest decisions change the course of a life forever.

As we were leaving the restaurant, Rex’s cell phone rang.
 

“This is Rex Herns.” He was silent for a moment, listening. “Where did it happen?” Another silence. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t disturb the body.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They found Bastone’s body, dead in his car. It looks like a Mexican cartel hit. It happened at the Black and Tan restaurant parking lot.”

We rushed to the car and raced to the restaurant. There were five police cars there, an ambulance, and many onlookers. Rex showed his badge, and we walked to the car that was the center of all the activity.

“Who’s in command here?” Rex asked.

A short thin grey-haired man with slightly stooped shoulders walked over to us. “I’m Detective George Dillon. Are you Chief Herns?” he asked in a gruff voice.
 

Rex nodded and showed him his badge. “Can you brief us on the situation, Detective?”

“Well he’d been dead between one and two hours when a customer came out of the restaurant. His car was parked behind the dead man’s car. As he walked by, he noticed the man slumped over in the seat and thought he saw blood. After banging on the window and getting no response, he called 911 on his cell phone. A patrol car responded and called us. It was apparent that the man had been executed. The Green Bay police chief told us not to disturb the body until he called you. Can you check what you want to quickly so we can get the forensics team working? The coroner is here and he estimated the time of death between one and two hours before we arrived. We did remove the wallet and determined that the dead man is Marino Bastone from Chicago.”

“Thanks Detective,” Rex replied. “This is Ben Harris. He’s assisting me on a case involving Bastone. Do you have some plastic gloves so Ben and I can examine the car and the body?”

The detective went to his car and retrieved two pairs of surgical gloves. Rex and I put them on and walked to the dead man’s car. Bastone’s body was slumped behind the wheel and had been shot twice at close range. His tongue had been sliced off and stuffed in his ear. Rex and I both knew that this was the way the Mexican cartels killed an informant. We had seen it many times in the course of working on the drug scene.
 

My primary concern was that Bastone was my link to finding out where Leah was and now that source of information lay dead with his tongue in his ear. I couldn’t seem to win for losing.

After speaking briefly to Detective Dillon and recounting to him our conjectures, we left the scene and Rex phoned his people who were searching for Bastone and called off the hunt. We decided to go back to the hotel, call the airlines to move our flight to earlier in the morning, and then get some sleep. When we arrived at the hotel, Rex dropped me off at my suite and went to the front desk to get a room for himself. He said that he would handle the flight change to Chicago and call me.

 
I entered my suite, went straight to the cabinet, and took out the bottle of Jack Daniels. I filled a glass with ice and poured in the amber liquid. After a long pull, I sat down in the living area to wait for Rex’s call. After about forty-five minutes, the phone rang. Rex had booked our flight to Chicago for 9:47 a.m. He said he would pick me up at eight. Since I had not unpacked from the canceled flight, I decided to just go to bed and try to get some sleep. I hoped my dreams would be kind to me. I finished my drink and went to bed. Sleep came easily.

The cold piercing wind penetrated my skin and made its deathly presence known on the barren street where I walked, looking for Leah. Leaves swirled in complete silence inside the vast vacuum that engulfed my spirit. Desolation and darkness consumed all objects in their path.