Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
V incent
After a brief strategy meeting and reallocation of weapons and other supplies, we enter the building.
Martinez is coming up the stairs with a semiautomatic rifle. Alessandro has my Glock and silencer and has donned a Kevlar vest under his shirt, complete with his clerical collar. I’m carrying Martinez’s service pistol.
Alessandro and I ride the elevator. He stands in plain view, and I duck to the side, concealed by the control panel. I see him make the sign of the cross as we approach the floor. Then he looks at me and shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”
The door dings. My brother steps out, cool as can be, the gun concealed behind his back. If the two men in the lobby were expecting trouble, it wasn’t going to be in the form of a priest. In seconds, both men are dead.
I slip inside the penthouse, clearing left and right. Alessandro remains outside to cover the entrance until Martinez arrives.
“Hello, Vincent,” Rizutto says. His deep voice is cold and detached. He’s holding Sarah on the patio, furthest from the door.
With a gun to her head.
And her hands bound in tape.
And tape wrapped around her mouth.
And tears streaming down her face.
“Be a good boy and lock the door, then push the sofa in front of it.”
When I don’t move fast enough, he jams the gun directly into Sarah’s temple, and I hear her whimper.
I lock the door, despite Alessandro’s protests on the other side. Then I drag the heavy recliner sofa over in front of the door.
“Wonderful, now do come out here so we can all have a nice little chat.”
Gun at the ready, I step onto the patio. Rizutto steps back, until they are against the rail, effectively eliminating my chances of charging him, for fear of taking Sarah over the edge.
“Now, you’ll put the gun down and kick it over here.” He runs the gun up and down her face, almost like a caress.
Slowly, I lower mine to the floor and kick it, the gun sliding nearly to his feet.
“Excellent. Now, jacket off, and show me your ankles.”
When the backup I keep on my ankle is revealed, he clicks his tongue at me. “Please, right over here.” He taps the ground with his foot and gives me an eerie smile.
The gun slides over the smooth patio floor and comes to rest by the other one.
“Now, some housekeeping issues,” Rizutto says. “First off, De Luca, you’re going to die, one way or another. Whether or not Miss Williams dies is really the question. If I have to shoot her first, I will. If I have to shoot her in the belly so she bleeds to death slowly in your arms, I will. Actually, that’s probably far more poetic.” He gives Sarah a kiss on the cheek, never breaking eye contact with me. She whimpers.
“Now, I do owe certain favors to my partner, Mr. LeBlanc. He’s quite fond of your little ballerina here, Vincent. You did always have good taste in women. Anyway, if you don’t force me to shoot her, and she doesn’t die an agonizing death, then she gets to live, and my partner gets his new little toy. So really that works best for me.”
I see Sarah start shaking, her skin pale.
“Now, I think it’s only poetic that the lover sacrifices himself to save her life. But I can’t trust you with a gun. So what to do, what to do.” He taps the pistol against Sarah’s head, making her wince with each tap.
His face lights up, like he’s had a brilliant idea. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to jump.”
I hear Sarah start to shriek behind the tape and thrash around.
“Right over there looks like a nice spot. Fifty-three floors ought to do it. And don’t worry. I’ll take care of your brothers and your mother too, just to make sure no one gets any fresh ideas.”
Sarah is thrashing up a storm, but his hold on her is tight. As is the hold on the gun. With his finger on the trigger.
“So, does she die first, and then I kill you, or do you act like a man and save her life? Tick-tock, Vincent. We don’t have all day.”
Sarah is shaking her head “no” violently.
Rizutto is laughing.
I can hear Alessandro trying to break down the door.
I look at the railing, take a deep breath, and turn to look into Sarah’s eyes one last time. She’s stopped thrashing, and with the free fingers of her hands she makes a little heart symbol.
She closes her eyes.
“I love you, kitten,” I tell her.
It’s like slow motion, or the old stop motion animation.
Her eyes fly open.
I see her bend her knees slightly, planting her feet.
She drops her shoulder.
And she shoves Rizzuto using every ounce of toned muscle and adrenaline in her body.
I run for them as the shock runs over Rizutto.
I see the moment he realizes.
I see the moment they both tumble over the edge.
She’s out of reach by the time I get there. Rizutto tumbles below her, his greater mass increasing his velocity. The door breaks down. I realize there is a pool three floors below this one. I sprint for the door.
“Pool! Three floors down, now!”
I take the stairs three at a time with Alessandro right behind me and bust out onto the pool deck. People are screaming, running. The pool is tinted with blood.
And then I see Martinez pulling Sarah’s limp body from the pool. I rip the tape off her mouth. She’s not breathing.
I start CPR.
Alessandro prays.
Martinez calls 911.
Then, for the first time in my adult life, I pray. On my knees, begging for her life.
Sarah coughs. Mouthful after mouthful of water. I roll her over to make it easier.
“Kitten? Kitten?” I shake her shoulders.
She groans. With a hoarse voice she croaks, “Now I know why kittens don’t like water.”