Calatonia Chronicles II
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II - Strictly Business, Part I
Cosgrove Residence - Rural Calatonia
"He's just downstairs, Johnny. He'll be ready in a few minutes."
A tall young man of 18, full of lean muscle, tall black hair, light skin, chestnut brown eyes, wearing blue jeans with converse sneakers, and a long sleeve red shirt with a leather jacket over it.
He walked down the main hallway of the Cosgrove home with a shy smile on his face.
Leon Cosgrove, a young man of 20, also full of lean muscle, but slightly taller than Johnny, with deep green eyes, sharp black hair slicked back, light-mahogany skin, wearing brown khakis, black muscle-tight shirt and combat boots.
Then they came to a door.
"Doesn't this lead to the basement?" Johnny asked.
"We call it a cellar."
Johnny gulped. "Why don't we just talk in the study?"
Leon frowned grimly. "Because that's dad's place. And he prefers having talks below ground."
"Your dad?"
"No."
Johnny pursed his lips tightly. "Oh boy."
Leon opened the door, revealing a dark room.
"Right, off I go then." Johnny stepped in.
"Johnny, wait-!"
Too late.
The soulful pianist shouted in alarm as his foot found nothing and he tripped and fell.
Sounds of mild pain followed as he made his descent.
Awkward shock and alarm was writ large on Leon's face as he flipped a light switch.
Johnny was seen at the bottom of the stairs in a heap, groaning in pain.
"It's a cellar Johnny, that means you go down."
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Nooshy pressed an ice pack on Johnny's forehead.
"Honestly Jon," she said, her honey-amber eyes flashing with annoyance.
"I was in too much of a hurry," Johnny said, mildly embarrassed. "Aaaooow!" he cried, the ice pack touching a tender area.
"Stop moving," Nooshy said sternly.
"But it really hurts."
"It'll hurt a sight more if you don't." Nooshy turned her sights to Leon who sat on the sofa next to them, arms crossed cooly across his chest, one leg crossed over his knee.
He had a guilty expression on his face.
"He's waiting," he said, trying to change the subject. "He's ready to see you at any time."
Nooshy frowned tightly, teeth clenched. She gave Leon a hard look but said nothing.
Leon said no more after that.
"You ok, baby?" Nooshy cooed.
"Yeah yeah, I'm fine. Just a bump."
"Oh," she said, hurting to see her fiancé hurting.
She gave him a huge kiss on the lips, causing him to forget the pain altogether.
Johnny grinned goofily, causing Nooshy to giggle like a schoolgirl.
Leon rolled his eyes. Teenagers.
Which was a hypocritical thing since Leon had only departed his teen years for only almost a year.
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Once his forehead had been properly bandaged, Johnny made his descent, with Nooshy in hand, much to Leon's disapproval.
Once they reached the cellar floor, a light down a hallway switched on.
And the end of the hallway were two imposing men.
The one on the left was a large man, adorned in a long black coat, full of muscle, light skin, white hair with black streaks, full beard, a chestnut brown eye and a black eye patch over his right eye, with garish burns and scars on the right side of his face and neck.
Ivan Desinov, Johnny's maternal uncle.
And the one on the right was a man just as imposing as the man shadowing him. Solid as a rock, also wearing a long black coat, dark-tan skin, a full goatee, long blackish-brown hair combed back, deep-brown severe eyes, and a scar across his lip.
Dakota K. Cosgrove, Leon's father, Special Agent, CIA, Sheriff, and Leader of the Eleventh.
Eleventh, as in the 11th Commandment, which is thou shalt not get away with it.
"Hello Little Johnny," Ivan said in his thick Russian accent with a warm smile.
Johnny smiled. "Uncle Ivan."
Ivan gave his nephew a tight hug and a kiss on the head, minding his new bruise.
"Hiya Ivan!" Nooshy chimed.
Ivan smiled as he dropped to a knee to embrace the petite young lady who barely came up to her waist. He kissed her on the cheek.
"How's my future niece by marriage?"
Nooshy blushed, her snow white cheeks taking on a scarlet hue.
Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks becoming rosy as well.
Cosgrove smiled wryly. "He's waiting for you, Jonathan."
Johnny chuckled. "Good to see you too, Colonel."
"I'm coming too," Nooshy said firmly.
Cosgrove lost his smile. "Noelle…"
"I'm going!"
"Noosh…" Johnny protested but a sharp look and a squeeze from her hand shut him up.
"Noelle, I don't think…"
"Colonel," Ivan said. "Her mind is made up. I think you know that much."
Cosgrove paused for a beat, then nodded begrudgingly. "Alright. He may not like it."
"Then he can sue us," Nooshy said snidely.
Johnny covered his face with an embarrassed smile.
Ivan laughed heartily, long and loud.
Cosgrove shook his head. She's your daughter alright, Noelle.
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Johnny and Nooshy entered the inner study of the Cosgrove family wine cellar.
A man sat at a desk with his back turned.
He appeared to be checking over certain files.
Terribly anxious, Johnny quietly swallowed. "Mr Lazaretti?"
The man stopped and lifted his head. His back still turned, he removed what looked like a thin pair of spectacles. He turned around in his swivel chair.
He was a lean man, dressed in suit pants and a dress shirt with overalls, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, pushing 70, dark-skinned, grey-hair, and a face drawn tight, stern and unrelenting like it was carved out of stone.
His dark eyes were the most intimidating of all, piercing, like they could see into your soul.
Johnny felt very small at this point as he seemed to be mesmerized by this man's stare.
Nooshy recoiled slightly, startled as well.
Vito Lazaretti smiled.
And he stood up from his chair with a certain vigor that was almost unbelievable for a man his age.
Johnny's heart skipped a beat. I wonder if he drinks Nana's special tea.
"Johnny," he said in a voice warm and deep, a New York accent, much like Mr Crystal's. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time now."
Johnny smiled nervously. "L-Likewise."
Lazaretti approached Johnny, nonchalantly as though going out for an evening stroll.
He extended his right hand.
"Allow me to begin by extending my deepest gratitude for seeing my niece by marriage and my great nephew to safety. Thank you."
Johnny paused for a moment, letting all this sink in. He then took the hand and shook it.
"Don't…don't mention it. But…all I did was stop the car. My…" Johnny clenched his eyes. "My dad and uncles were the ones who did the rescuing."
Nooshy placed a comforting hand on Johnny's arm.
Lazaretti nodded, sandwiching Johnny's hand with his other. "All the same, if you hadn't acted, it wouldn't have mattered. And my deepest sympathies for your loss, Jonathan."
"Thank you."
When the handshake ended, Lazaretti turned his attention to the petite young lady with snow white skin and hair with pepper-like spots.
He grinned at the sight of the ring on her left hand.
"The future Mrs Egerton I presume?"
A rosy tint appeared in Nooshy's lightly-freckled cheeks. "The one and only."
"I take it you will be included in this affair?"
"Whether you like it or not," Nooshy said as she took Johnny's arm. "Wherever he goes, I go."
Lazaretti rubbed his chin in thought. "The arrangement was meant for Johnny only…"
"Look…" Johnny said, trying to sound strong. "…Nooshy is…well she's going to be…" Cheeks flaring red, Johnny cleared his throat. "…I love her and we don't keep secrets. We share our lives and we grow old together. She has the right to sit on this too. Or we don't sit on this at all."
Lazaretti's face remained still, but his eyes bore into Johnny's as though sizing him up.
Nooshy had her hands over her heart, tears brimming at the touching show of resolve and love of her fiancé.
"I trust her with my life Mr Lazaretti. And if she can't sit on this, then I'll be ok with not getting my answers today."
Vito Lazaretti said nothing for a long moment.
Then he grinned slyly.
"Nana was right about you. You got guts. Ok, take a seat, both of you. Let's talk about how we got here."
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In his private study, DK Cosgrove hung up his phone.
"So?" Ivan said, leaning against a wall, arms crossed.
"Diego's accomplice, Ricky by name, was very informative on how he and his boss got bailed out so quickly and off record. They had help. Inside and out. Pascal and Karen are looking into it as we speak."
"Hmm," Ivan said. "Is someone, how you say, having a go at us?"
"Dunno," Cosgrove said. "Possibly." He sat back in his chair, letting out a weary breath. "I am so tired of it all."
"As am I, comrade. But ve cannot stop fighting the good fight."
"No…but we're not gonna get any younger. We have peace now but how long will it last before another Machiavellian schemer like Sorrows takes his place?" Cosgrove squeezed his arm rests as though he were trying to crush them. "Will our families ever be left alone? My baby girl was almost killed. And my son is training up a boy who isn't even old enough to shave."
Ivan shut his eyes tight. "Poor kids. They should never have to deal vith mess like this."
Cosgrove twisted his face, now purple with controlled rage. "My wife…my daughter…kidnapped, dragged out of bed…a traitor in our own agency."
"And he vas caught, tried, and sentenced. Joseph Mueller gets gas chamber. Black Cemetery disbanded and scattered. Sorrows dead. Mob heads dead. Vhat are you afraid of?"
Cosgrove gave the hulking Russian a funny look.
"Right. Dumb question. But whoever helped Diego, ve vill find them."
Cosgrove bowed his head. I am so tired. How much fighting can a man endure before he drops dead?
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"Where to begin…where to begin…"
"How about the beginning?" Nooshy asked.
"The beginning of what?" Lazarstti said with a wry smile. "The beginning of time? The beginning of life? Of the US? I can tell you all that but I gotta feeling you have something else in mind."
Nooshy frowned lightly, slightly annoyed.
Johnny cleared his throat. "How about Cosgrove's team, whatever you call it? How did they come about?"
"Good choice." Lazaretti sat back in his hard wooden chair. "Let me see…World War Two."
"WWII?"
"Mmhm." Lazaretti adjusted his glasses. "The Allies decided that in order to keep history from repeating itself, they had to establish certain agencies, domestic and international, each with certain task forces assigned with handling particular cases in the hope of preventing WWIII…or at the very least delay it for as long as possible."
Johnny and Nooshy sat down and listened intently, not interrupting the old man's tale.
"As you know, Cosgrove's team was among one of many of these task forces, but…as you well know…their recruitment program is a tad on the unconventional side."
Nooshy smirked. "Hit the nail right on the head."
"Your dear friend Nana helped start it all."
Johnny and Nooshy recoiled with a jolt.
"Nana?!" Johnny exclaimed.
"The one and same, along with Mr St. Clair and Dr. Straham, along with a few others."
"Who?" Nooshy asked.
"One thing at a time, kid," Lazaretti said sternly.
"Now…Nana Noodleman enlisted in the RAF as soon as she came of age. She knew that war was coming and she wanted to be ready when that time came. Top of her class and became one of the youngest ace pilots in history."
The young couples' eyes shone with wonder.
"32 air combat victories under her belt, even when she was shot down over Switzerland. She parachuted into hostile territory and she might've been made a prisoner of war or worse if she hadn't been aided by a certain boy with burnt hands."
"Pascal," Johnny said.
"In one. Pascal St. Clair. Born and raised in Bayonne, France. When the Nazis took over, he and his family fled to Switz to stay with relatives, hoping they'd be safe. But…" Lazaretti looked sad. "…but they were betrayed by a neighbor and the secret police rounded them up. When Pascal's father fought back, they were all executed, and their house was burnt to the ground. But Pascal lived, he was hidden in the cellar and he barely managed to escape from the fire, but not unscathed."
"And that's how he got those nasty burns on his hands?" Nooshy asked gravely.
"Mmhm."
"How old was he?" Johnny asked, unnerved by the grim tale.
"He was fourteen."
Johnny's eyes widened. "Man…"
"How did he survive on his own?" Nooshy asked, eyes downward.
Johnny took her hand gently and she squeezed it affectionately for comfort.
"He spent the next few months scrounging for food and any goose-stepping punk who got in his way…" He illustrated the image of cutting his own throat with his forefinger.
Johnny flinched. "But…he was just a kid."
"Survival instincts. Something that you and your friends have come to know in the most appalling of circumstances."
Lazaretti's words hit a nerve.
Feeling cold, Johnny placed a hand over midsection, right over the multitude of scars he had received not one year ago, the stab wound, the gunshot and the burns which cauterized it.
Nooshy, feeling very similar coldness, placed a hand over her side, a scar of her own, when her ribs were violently broken and surgery was essential to repair the damage.
"They both went into hiding soon after that," Lazaretti said, sipping a cup of coffee. "Pascal and Nana hid in an abandoned farmhouse for about ten weeks I believe."
"Ten weeks?" Johnny said, shocked.
"Mmhm. They had to very quietly raid an enemy supply line so they could keep from starving. And to redress Pascal's burnt hands."
Johnny looked sick, remembering his own burns and the pain he had never known.
Nooshy, reading her fiancé's thought, squeezed his massive hand.
Lazaretti paused as though waiting for permission to continue. A nod from Johnny was the que.
"Malnourished and exhausted, they might've died if they hadn't been found by a certain doctor and scientist who had defected to the Swiss resistance."
"Straham," Nooshy said.
Lazaretti nodded. "Straham." He placed his empty coffee mug on his desk. "Dr Oskar Straham was, is, a genius in every sense of the word. Graduated top of his class at the bald age of 13. Five PHD's to his name so he is by no means a stupid person. He saw where the country was going and through careful planning, had intended to smuggle his family into the US. But he was betrayed by a trusted friend, a neighbor and fellow student and they were sent to a concentration camp. Oskar was safe in the knowledge that his family were safe while he remained in Europe as an esteemed scientist for the Reich, or at least that's what he wanted them to think."
Lazaretti raised his head, his eyes like coals. "You wanna know what tipped him off?"
Johnny and Nooshy looked stricken with alarm at this tragic backstory but they both nodded grimly.
"His father's watch, the one he made for his 33rd birthday. He saw an SS Captain wearing it. He boasted on how he got it and any delusions that it was a coincidence went down the drain. How Straham managed to keep it together before he defected is beyond me."
"Why didn't he defect sooner?" Johnny asked. "Why work for…them? The ones who murdered his family?"
"Because he was smart enough to find a way to work on the inside, to sabotage their war machine behind the mask of a submitted obedient slave. He was smart enough to smuggle his family out, but smuggling himself? A high-level target to be taken alive with his brain intact? Good luck. He decided to use their interest in him against them. Straham's not the fighting type but there are other ways to fight without using violence. He with careful meticulous calculations sabotaged the ingredients for gas-type weapons and explosives, firearms, and military vehicles. Of course, not all at once where he'd be implicated and discovered. He did it with every other division of the Reich military and rigged them to go dead at particular times. It was the best kind of vengeance he could pull off. And when his window of opportunity came, he faked his own death and fled."
"Daaaaaaang!" Nooshy said, amazed.
"He eventually made his way to his Swiss contacts. He sought out to hide some military and governmental secrets he stole from the advanced science division who held him. He found an abandoned barnhouse and thought it'd be perfect. What he didn't take into account was running into a feral and badly burnt child as well as an RAF ace pilot, both starved and nearly out of their minds."
Johnny gulped. "What happened?"
Lazaretti pursed his lip intensely. "Pascal jumped Straham and gave him a good smack in the jaw. Nana held him back when she saw his medical bag. Thankfully, Straham was only unconscious for a few minutes. After a thousand French apologies from Pascal, Straham saw to his burns. He then took them back to the HQ of the Swiss resistance. Nana volunteered in their air raid division. Pascal wanted to fight too but he was too young. Straham said the one in charge hated the concept of child soldiers."
"But that didn't stop him, did it?" Nooshy asked, as though she already knew the answer.
Lazaretti smiled warmly. "You're sharp, girl. Yeah, Pascal didn't care about chain of command. His father was a soldier too and he wanted to fight. So he snuck into the barracks command, found the contracts departments, stowed away on a train to Berlin and killed four Gestapo officers in one night. He was gone for four days."
The color seemed to drain from Johnny and Nooshy's faces.
"He returned in tears, hysterical tears really."
"Huh?" Johnny said, thoroughly confused.
"He thought it would help bring him closure, but all it did was change him in a way he did not like. That's something that soldiers have to expect and live with. Pascal hated every moment of what he did. Nana did her best to console him. Until Straham finally sedated him."
"Sheesh," Nooshy said. "And yet here he is as one of Cosgrove's top people. He didn't get on the team just cuz Nana's got the hots for him?"
Johnny bared his teeth, abashed. "Love…"
Lazaretti laughed heartily. "No dear, Nana was already spoken for and Pascal hadn't fallen in love with her until years after the death of her first husband."
"First?" Johnny said. "Nana never remarried…wait!" he exclaimed, eyes huge. "Are you saying she and Pascal are going to-?!"
Lazaretti smiled knowingly. "You didn't hear it from me."
Nooshy jumped to her feet and squealed with delight. "O-M-G! O-M-G! O-M-G! That is so sweet!"
"Shhhh!" Johnny exclaimed, putting a finger to his lips. "Noosh! Please!"
Lazaretti shook his head with amusement. "Let's take a break kids. I could use another cup of coffee."
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Noodleman Manor
One of the many garages at the shoreline estate of Nana Noodleman opened to reveal a man, who clearly looked like he was getting on in years and yet wasn't getting on in years.
He was of a lean-muscled frame, had slick black hair with streaks of white, deep-tan skin, deep green eyes full of life, a sharp dagger-like goatee, was dressed in a French flight jacket with dark-brown denim pants and dark brown Chelsea leather boots.
His most noticeable qualities was the X-shaped scar just on the left side of his nose and cheeks as well as his hands which were concealed in black leather gloves, which covered up his burn scars.
He carried himself like a young man even though he was pushing 90.
Pascal St. Clair.
His lady love, his betrothed, was much the same, although she was well past 90 and yet never felt better.
A woman, well-aged and yet the tears have not robbed her of her liveliness and vigor. Tall and very lean, a fine black afro tied by a fine purple bandana, coal-black skin, hazel-brown eyes, and a mole on the left side of her face.
Nana Noodleman. An old dame of the theater. She was dressed in a flight jacket as well, along with thin denim jeans and boots.
She had a biker helmet under her arm. "I haven't done this since I was a girl."
"Well mon ami," Pascal said with a grin. "You're in, how you say, in for the ride of your life."
The Frenchman placed a motor helmet on his head and he prepared to help Nana with her own.
Rolling her eyes with a coy smile, Nana held it out of his reach. "Oh please, I'm perfectly capable of putting it on myself."
"I know, madmoizelle. I don't wish to help because you need it but because I want to."
Nana's cheeks and ears burnt slightly. She felt even younger already.
"You know," she said. "Even though our faces will be covered, any paparazzi may still put two and two together. This is the most I've ever been out like this. It could end up being the talk of the town."
Pascal smirked. "Do you care?"
Nana paused. She never cared. Not really. Her image was important, but not that important.
They both applied their head protection. Pascal helped Nana with hers with her consent of course.
Pascal started the engine of his Norton Commando 961 CR.
And then they were off.
As they revved down the main road, Nana held on tightly to Pascal's midsection, feeling as much as her old self when she first fell in love.
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Cosgrove Residence
Vito Lazaretti emerged from the kitchen area of the cellar with a silver tray carrying three mugs of coffee.
He placed them on a round table between himself and his young friends.
Lazaretti sat back down in his wooden chair, grunted when he felt his lower back pop.
"You ok?" Johnny asked.
"Yes, I'm fine Jonathan, just not as young as I used to be."
Arching his back, Lazaretti got comfortable. "Now then…the war was over but there were other wars to be fought. Wars on the inside as well the war to prevent the war among wars. The US began to establish the agency which would eventually become the CIA. We need task forces, which would require people, not just with a particular set of skills, but also those who are still hungry."
"Hungry?" Johnny asked. "Hungry for what?"
Lazaretti looked the young pianist dead in the eye. "Justice. There were still quite a number of escaped war criminals on the loose and believe it or not, they were still hungry too. Hungry for domination and power. Hungry to hurt and abuse. Hungry to build the Fourth Reich."
Johnny and Nooshy looked stunned.
"You're kidding me?" Nooshy said.
"Are you surprised?" Lazaretti said, though it was a rhetorical question. "Somewhere in any generation, there are groups of people plotting to establish a new world order. Globalists. Elitists. Powerful and wealthy individuals be they secret societies or simply the plain old companies, fat men and geeks behind desks, simply maintaining the status quo and finding new ways to control the people. And some not so wealthy but just as brilliant and dangerous."
"Brilliant?" Nooshy said as though the word left a bad taste in her mouth.
Lazaretti nodded. "And no one wants to hear good things about the devil."
He pulled at his collar, feeling rather anxious to recall the grim events he was about to reveal.
"About a year after Nana's family was murdered, not long after the death of her sister, she was bent on hunting down the killer."
This took both Johnny and Nooshy by surprise.
"Nana?" Johnny exclaimed.
Lazaretti nodded. "Nana wanted closure. More than that, she wanted revenge."
Nooshy frowned. "Did you get her permission before sharing this with us?"
"Of course I did," Lazaretti said, dismissing the idea of betraying confidence. "I wouldn't dare cross Nana Noodleman."
"Did she…" Johnny stammered. "Did she find him?"
"Oh she found him alright."
"Hang on…" Nooshy said. "How do we know he was a man? And I certainly don't remember that her family's killer was ever caught." She paused for a moment. "Oh my gosh…it was covered up wasn't it?"
Lazaretti smiled warmly. "You're sharp, old girl. Yes, it was covered up. You wanna know why?"
Nooshy crossed her arms, clearly indignant by the obvious question.
"The guy worked for the European Union."
Nooshy craned her head. "The what?"
"It's an economic-political union of European leaders. It's supposedly dedicated to the continent's economic progress but there are conspiracies that say that they're dedicated to bringing about a new world order. It could be true."
"Could be?" Nooshy said. "You mean you don't know?"
"I don't know one might say. I could only guess from what little I know of the killer. But I don't doubt my guess."
"Which is?" Nooshy asked.
"The European Union had been harboring escaped Nazis."
"Ok?" Johnny said, as though he had been told the weather. "So…what? The EU had something to do with the murder of Nana's family."
"To an extent," Lazaretti said. "You don't seem shocked."
"Eh…not really. Everyone knows that there are politicians and rich people looking for a bump up, getting one step closer to the top of the proverbial pyramid. Some of the worst of the worst who'd step on anyone simply for getting in the way. You tell anyone that a good deal if not all the world is run by the rich and powerful, they say, 'Yeah, so?'" Johnny swallowed hard, out of breath and slightly abashed for his long-winded speech.
Cheeks glowing, Nooshy smiled at him.
Lazaretti rubbed his chin. "You're smarter than you look."
Johnny chose to ignore that comment.
Nooshy didn't.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
Johnny placed a hand on her knee. "It's ok love."
"What I mean is, you're a lot sharper than I gave you credit for. Your uncle told me you're sort of a conspiracy nut."
"He said I was a conspiracy nut?"
Lazaretti shook his head. "Not in so many words. Now…about the killer. He was a guard at Dachau, one of the more sadistic ones. He was smuggled out of Germany when the Allies reached Berlin. Had been living in Argentina for the next decade, until he was smuggled into the UK to settle an old score with Nana."
"What?" Johnny gasped.
"Mmhm," Lazaretti said. "Klaus Engel, renamed Gunter Mayer when he fled Germany."
Both Johnny and Nooshy furrowed their brows in anger at the misuse of the name of one of their best friends, even the misuse of the Redshore choreographer, despite his past abuses.
"He wanted revenge on Nana on account of one of her air victories costing the life of his platoon, including his own brother. So while he was cozying up in South America, he called in a favor, got smuggled into the UK, tracked down Nana's family and murdered them."
The two youths' eyes were downward at the memory of Nana's tearful confession of her personal account of her family's murder when they were in hiding at the Citadel Tower in New York.
"And now we come to when Nana finally decides to hunt down Engel. Through the use of an old foreign contact, she managed to track him down to his estate on the edge of Argentina's border, abducted him and then shipped him to Israel where he was put on trial for war crimes and then executed."
Johnny and Nooshy were amazed.
"She did that…" Johnny exclaimed. "…all by herself?!"
Lazaretti shook his head. "She had help. From her husband, a certain scientist and a young man fresh out of the French Legion academy."
Johnny nodded in understanding. Bernard Ramsbottom. Dr. Straham and Pascal. And with Nana, they make a force to be reckoned with.
Lazaretti continued. "Nana rented a private jet, nothing conspicuous for where they needed to go. She was the pilot. Dr. Straham served as the surveyor. Pascal was the field slash recon man. Major Ramsbottom funded the operation and his UN contacts helped green light it, not that Nana needed the money. She had already made her first million by then."
Nooshy choked in laughter. "Ramsbottom?"
Johnny tried to scold her but he too was overcome by his stifled laugh. "N-Noosh…l-love…you shouldn't laugh."
Lazaretti smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. Bernie never liked his name being laughed at either.
Johnny attempted to shush his fiancé but this, as well as the panicked look on his face, only served to further Nooshy's hysterics as she doubled over in her chair with high-pitched cackling.
Lazaretti shook his head. "Nana came close to killing him, you know?"
That stopped Nooshy's laughter dead.
"What?" Johnny whispered.
"And how she managed to stop herself, I may never know."
Lazaretti stood up from his chair and went to a filing cabinet by his desk.
"Before we go any further," Nooshy said with suspicion. "How are you involved in all this? What's your game?"
This time, Johnny had no objections because he had the same idea.
Lazaretti turned his head, his face severe. He was not used to having his trustworthiness questioned.
After a beat, his features softened and he closed the filing cabinet. "Alright…"
He sat down in his chair. "…let me tell you how I got involved with Cosgrove and his little group in the first place. Brace yourselves."
To be continued…
…..
VOICE CAST:
Johnny Egerton - Taron Egerton
Leon Cosgrove - Tye Sheridan
Noelle "Nooshy" Wright - Letitia Wright
Dakota K. Cosgrove - Sylvester Stallone
Ivan Desinov - Jason Isaacs
Vito Lazaretti - Giancarlo Esposito
Nana Noodleman - Jennifer Saunders
Pascal St. Clair - Jean Reno