Vendetta Trail (12 page)

LUCIANO APOLLONI WAS STANDING ON THE
riverbank in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. There were at least one hundred others waiting on the levee for the
Delta Mist
. They weren’t passengers waiting to board the boat, they were just residents of the town, here to celebrate the occasion. The arrival of one of the passenger-carrying steamboats was always a big event in the life of the small river town.

When the boat came into view, the Cape Girardeau city band began playing. The boat answered with several blasts from its whistle, then it started putting in.

As Apolloni stood on the bank with the others, he checked the telegram again.

Because the message was rather cryptic, it would not mean that much to the telegraphers who transmitted it. But Apolloni knew exactly what the word “do” meant. He knew, also, that if he killed both of them, he would be well rewarded.

Apolloni put the telegram in his pocket, then took the ticket he had bought for his own passage and walked down to the edge of the river.

“Sir, please step back until the boat has fully landed,” one of the workers said.

“Yes, of course,” Apolloni replied with a friendly smile. He did not want to do anything that would cause someone to remember him.

When the boat landed, its pilot added power and the stern wheel whirled rapidly, beating the brown Mississippi River water into a boiling froth. That had the effect of pegging the boat against the shore, holding it there while a big black deckhand stood at the bow and tossed over a rope that was as thick as a man’s wrist. Workers on the shore took the rope, then wrapped it several times around a stanchion.

Not until secondary lines were thrown over and looped through a series of rings did the engines stop. Now the boat sat securely tied against the riverbank, a multitiered white edifice that looked like a floating hotel. Wisps of steam drifted away from the relief valves and a black ribbon of smoke curled up from the twin chimneys, indicating that the fireman was keeping the steam up. A sign was stretched between the two stacks. The name of the boat was written in red, outlined in gold and black.

DELTA MIST

PORT OF NEW ORLEANS

CAPTAIN E. P. ST. CYR

After that, the gangplank was lowered and a man, his wife, and two young boys came down the bouncing board. When they reached the bank, an elderly woman rushed forward to embrace them.

The boat purser came to the head of the gangplank and looked around for a moment before yelling down at the worker who had ordered Apolloni to step back.

“How many passengers are we picking up, Greg? And where bound?”

“Seven, for all points north,” Greg called back.

“You got ’em all ticketed?”

“Aye.”

“All right,” the purser replied. “Start ’em up. We may as well get loaded.”

Raising a megaphone to his lips, the boat official on the ground called out loudly.

“Passengers holding tickets for Ste. Genevieve, Perryville, St. Louis, and all points north may board now!”

Apolloni moved into line with the other six boarding passengers, climbed the gangplank, then handed his ticket to the purser.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Apolloni,” the purser said, reading the name on the ticket. “You’ll be in Cabin E-4. Any questions?”

“I heard this boat has a piano player,” Apolloni said. “Is that true?”

The purser looked up in surprise.

“Well, yes, it is true,” he replied. “But how did you hear about him? We just put him on a week ago, down in New Orleans. This is his first trip upriver.”

“I received a telegram from a friend who said that you had hired a good piano player. I thought it might make the trip to St. Louis more pleasant if we had some good music to listen to.”

“Well, I don’t think you will be disappointed. He is an outstanding piano player,” the purser said. “But don’t just take my word for it. You can judge for yourself when you have
dinner tonight. He always plays in the salon for the evening meals.”

“Good, good,” Apolloni said. “I shall look forward to hearing him.”

Apolloni went to his room, took out his knife, and began to sharpen it. The first thing he would have to do is identify the woman named Rachel. Once he had her located, he would wait until nightfall, find the opportunity to slit her throat, then drop her over into the river.

It was early evening, and the boat had just resumed its trip upriver after stopping at Perryville. Apolloni was in the back of the salon eating his dinner and listening to the piano music when the purser happened by his table.

“Ah, Mr. Apolloni, I hope you are enjoying the music,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” Apolloni replied.

“Would you like to meet him? He’s not only a talented pianist, he is also very gracious to our passengers.”

“No, thank you.”

“He’ll probably take a break after the next song. That would give you an excellent opportunity to meet him. I’ll introduce you. You won’t be imposing on him,” the purser said.

“No!” Apolloni said more sharply. Then, when he saw the way the purser reacted to his reply, he softened it with a smile. “I mean, I’m very shy around new people. I’d rather just sit back here and listen. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I understand,” the purser said, mollified by Apolloni’s smile and explanation. “My wife is the same way. You just sit here and enjoy your meal and the music. And if there is anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” Apolloni said.

As the purser walked away, Apolloni went back to his din
ner. He had to admit that the pianist was very good. He was so good that it would be a shame to have to kill him. But Tangeleno’s telegram had been very specific. He was to “do” both of them, and business was business.

When this piece was finished, several of the diners went up to talk to the piano player. One of the diners was a very beautiful young woman, who fit the description of Rachel. Apolloni noticed that while the others returned to their tables or left the salon entirely, she hung around. There seemed to be a connection of some sort between them.

The purser happened to walk by the table again and Apolloni called out to him.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Apolloni, what can I do for you?”

“Do you know that woman’s name?” Apolloni asked, pointing to the blonde who was standing by the piano.

The purser chuckled. “I can see why you might be interested. She is truly a lovely thing, isn’t she?” the purser replied.

“Is she the piano player’s, uh, companion?”

“They do seem to be getting along quite well, don’t they? But I don’t believe there is really any connection. I mean, she didn’t even come onboard until Caruthersville. I believe her name is Smith. Miss Smith.”

“What is her first name?”

“My—and you said you were the shy one,” the purser said. “Well, I’m not supposed to do this, but her name is Rachel. Rachel Smith.”

“Rachel?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck with her, Mr. Apolloni,” the purser said as he walked away. He laughed again. “As they say, hope springs eternal.”

Rachel, Apolloni thought. Yes, this was the one. He didn’t
know what such a beautiful girl could possibly have done to cause Tangeleno to require that she be killed, but his wasn’t to question why.

When Hawke heard a light knock, he knew who it would be even before he opened the door. He had not yet gone to bed because he was rearranging a piece of music for tomorrow evening. He set the music aside, then walked over to the door.

“Rachel?” he called quietly.

“Yes,” Rachel replied.

Hawke opened the door, causing a wedge of light from the companionway to spill into his cabin. Rachel was standing in the doorway.

“So much for the mystery,” she said. “How did you know it was me?”

“Because you are the one I wanted it to be,” Hawke said.

“Aren’t you the smooth talker, though?” she asked. “Are you going to ask me in?”

Hawke stepped aside. “Yes, of course I am. Come in,” he said.

Rachel stepped into the room, then Hawke closed the door behind her.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Hawke asked, pointing toward a bottle.

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” Rachel walked over to sit on the edge of Hawke’s bunk and she waited while he poured two glasses of wine. He brought the glasses over, then handed one to her.

“What shall we toast?” Rachel asked.

“How about a toast for Georgia and memories?” Hawke suggested.

To Hawke’s surprise, Rachel shook her head. “There’s nothing about Georgia I want to remember,” she said.

“All right, then you make the toast.”

“To Fancy,” Rachel said, holding out her glass. The glass captured a beam of light from the lantern and the burgundy fired brilliantly.

“To Fancy,” Hawke replied.

They drank their wine, then Rachel set her glass down.

“Mason, while you were at the Evening Star, why did you never come visit me?”

“It wasn’t just you. I didn’t visit any of the girls,” Hawke replied.

“I know.” Rachel smiled. “And that’s the only reason I’m not angry with you. If you had visited one of the others, but not me, I wouldn’t even be talking to you now.”

“I was working there. I didn’t think it was my place.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It wouldn’t have cost you anything.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that I didn’t deem it appropriate to mix business with…well, business,” Hawke said with a little chuckle.

“We’re not working together now,” Rachel said. “At least not yet.”

Even as she was talking, Rachel began slipping out of the dress she was wearing and Hawke saw that she had on nothing but a silk-muslin chemise underneath. The soft light of the lantern highlighted the thin garment, making it shimmer as if by its own golden light. The chemise draped her form like a filmy curtain, and the nipples of her breasts stood out in bold relief.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? Are you going to join me or do you want me to put my clothes back on and leave?”

Hawke smiled. “Between the two choices you just offered, I would rather join you,” Hawke said. He leaned down and kissed her.

For just a second Rachel hesitated. Whores never kissed. But she wasn’t a whore now, so this was different. She opened her lips to his kiss.

“Mason,” Rachel whimpered.

“Yes?”

“I…I have a confession to make.”

“Wait. You’re not going to tell me you aren’t a virgin, are you?” Hawke asked.

Rachel looked at him with a shocked expression on her face, then, seeing the devilment in his eyes, she laughed out loud.

“You are awful!” she said.

“What is your confession?”

“I want to do this. I’ve never done this before because I wanted to.”

Hawke took the lead then, kissing her a second time, more urgently than before. She responded by pushing her body against his.

Hawke sat on the bed beside her, then gently pushed her down. He kissed her again, once more pulling her body against his, feeling her softness against the hardness of his muscles. His kisses became more demanding and Rachel became more responsive, positioning herself here and moving herself there to accommodate him.

This was all new to Rachel. Although she had been with many men, more men than she could count, she had never done anything more than spread her legs and bear the ordeal. Now she was experiencing a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was as if hot tea was flowing through her veins. Is this what the other girls talked about when they said that there times when they actually enjoyed it? Why had she never felt anything like this before? She used the tip of her tongue to dart across his lips, then dip into his mouth.

The warmth Hawke felt erupted now to a raging inferno, and he began to pull at the hem of Rachel’s chemise while removing his own clothes until they were naked against each other.

Hawke moved his hard demanding body over her soft yielding thighs and, poised above her, paused for a moment as if prolonging the experience. Then he went ahead.

WHEN APOLLONI SAW RACHEL WALKING DOWN
the passageway, he looked around quickly for a place to get out of sight. Just off the passageway was a small alcove that contained a wound-up fire hose and a red-handled axe. It was deep enough to allow Apolloni to hide, so he stepped into it.

When Rachel reached this end of the passageway, it would be a simple thing to step out and grab her, then pull her out onto the deck. One quick slice across her throat is all he would need—and it would be over.

But she didn’t come all the way to this end. Instead, Apolloni heard a knock and, leaning out to look around the corner, he saw the door open to the piano player’s room. The woman and the piano player spoke only for a second, then she went inside.

Apolloni waited for a few minutes longer, expecting her to come out again. When she didn’t, he grew frustrated and sneaked back down the narrow companionway, stopping just outside the door. He listened carefully to see if he could hear anything.

He heard nothing.

What could possibly be going on in there? Then, realizing what it must be, he smiled. For a moment he considered going in right now, killing the piano player, and then having his way with the woman before he killed her. The thought of it gave him an erection and he rubbed himself through his pants as he contemplated the pleasure of it.

As he continued to think about it, though, he realized that his plan wouldn’t work. He would have to kill the piano player first and while he was killing him, the woman was sure to call out, perhaps even scream.

Pleasure would have to wait. He was here to do a job, and he didn’t intend to let anything get in his way. He moved down to the end of the passageway again, then stepped back into the fire hose alcove to wait for them to finish. He knew that she would have to pass by him to get to her own cabin.

“I hope you are enjoying this,” he said under his breath. “Because this will be the last time for you.”

He waited for almost an hour, then, thinking that she might spend the entire night in the room with him, was about to give up. He stepped out of the alcove just as he heard the door open and, quickly, he stepped back into the alcove again.

Looking carefully around the corner of the alcove, he saw the woman by the light of the wall-mounted lantern. He couldn’t see the man because of the door, but when she leaned slightly forward, he knew they must be sharing their last kiss.

The door closed and the woman started toward her own cabin. Apolloni pulled his knife out and let his fingers wrap familiarly, almost caressingly, around the handle.

Hawke turned away from the door and was about to go to bed when he saw that Rachel had left her shawl. Grabbing it, he opened the door. He was going to call out to her, but thought it might disturb some of the other passengers, to say nothing of embarrassing Rachel. So, grabbing the shawl, he started down the passageway toward her.

That was when he saw a man suddenly step out into the little hallway. At first, he thought it was just a coincidence and that the man had come from a room. He hesitated, not only because he didn’t want to embarrass Rachel, but because he was only half-dressed. Then he saw that the man was holding a knife in his right hand.

Hawke moved quickly and silently, coming up behind the assailant, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and spun him around.

“What?” the assailant gasped, startled by Hawke’s action. Then, seeing that his adversary was the piano player, he smiled.

“Oh!” Rachel gasped when she saw what was going on.

“Rachel, get out of here!” Hawke said.

Rachel moved out of the way, but she couldn’t leave.

“Well now, piano player,” he said. “I’d planned to kill both of you. You’ve just made it easy for me.”

The assailant bent his knees slightly, leaned forward at the waist, and held his knife in his right hand, palm up, in front of him. He moved it in tiny circles, like the head of a coiled snake. With his left hand, he curled his fingers in invitation.

“Come on, piano player,” he said in a low hissing tone. “Come get a taste of Apolloni’s blade.”

Hawke was unarmed and he had no choice but to start backing up as Apolloni advanced. Apolloni made one sweeping slice with his knife and Hawke skipped back out of the way. He didn’t skip back far enough, though, and the tip of the blade opened up a cut on his side.

“Oh, Mason!” Rachel called out in concern.

Although the cut wasn’t very deep, it looked bad because blood began flowing freely all along the length of the wound. Hawke’s undershirt turned red.

“Oh, damn, that hurt, didn’t it?” Apolloni taunted.

Hawke continued to back up while Apolloni pressed his advantage. Then, as he drew even with the fire hose alcove, Hawke reached in and grabbed the hose. Jerking it off the reel, he swung the nozzle toward Apolloni, hitting him in the chest. Caught unaware, Apolloni staggered back and Hawke leaped toward him, grabbing the knife hand.

As the two men struggled for the knife, Rachel watched the drama unfold before her.

Nobody said a word as the two men struggled in the dark. The only sounds were the sounds of heavy breathing, grunting, and the scraping of feet against the deck as they fought.

Rachel saw Apolloni make a thrust down low, then she saw him smile and she almost screamed. But before she could make a sound, the smile left the assailant’s face to be replaced with a look of pain and surprise as Hawke stepped away from him.

Apolloni turned toward Rachel and she saw the knife sticking out of his stomach. He started toward her and Hawke quickly stepped in between them. Apolloni took two more staggering steps, then he collapsed against Hawke. Hawke grabbed Apolloni by his belt and collar, then lifted him up to the top of the deck railing. He held him there for just a second before he dropped him over.

Apolloni fell into the water with a
splash,
though the splash was almost lost in the churning beat of the stern wheel that turned behind them.

“Oh, Mason, you are hurt!”

“It’s not too bad,” Hawke assured her. “The cut isn’t deep.”

Rachel went into his arms and he held her, feeling her quivering with fright.

“Did you recognize him?” Hawke asked.

“No. I saw him when he got on the boat, but I had never seen him before.”

“He had to be working for Tangeleno,” Hawke said. “And you are right, this Mafia thing seems to go beyond New Orleans.”

As the
Delta Mist
beat its way upriver, two giant mirrored lanterns, sitting on top of the pilot house, sent powerful beams stabbing out onto the darkness ahead of the boat. A third beam was being maneuvered by one of the crewmen and it moved from one side of the river to the other. Perhaps to investigate the splashing sound, the beam passed over to this side.

Hawke pulled Rachel back out of the way so that they wouldn’t be picked up by the beam as it played upon the surface of the water. He saw it flit quickly across Apolloni’s body, now floating facedown and drifting toward the riverbank, away from the boat. Fortunately, the light operator did not seem to notice it. Without hesitation, the beam continued to work across the surface of the water, picking out floating logs and other river obstructions.

Rachel shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” she said. “Mason, what am I going to do? I can’t hide from these people for the rest of my life.”

“You won’t have to.”

“What do you mean, I won’t have to? They were after me in Memphis, they came after me here on the boat. When is it going to stop?”

“It will stop when I kill every son of a bitch they send after you,” Hawke promised.

Rachel chuckled quietly. “You know, if anyone else told
me that, I would pass it off as just talk. But I really believe you could do that.”

“I not only can do it, I will do it,” Hawke promised. “Come along. I’ll see you to your cabin.”