Chater 10 – Let Me Go
Author's note: Thanks to GoddessLaughs for all her language help.
Caelan's eyes were starting to glaze over. She had been swamped at work since she had returned to New York City two weeks ago and today was no different. Readying to tackle the next item on her seemingly endless To-Do list, she swore half-heartedly to never take a vacation again. The telephone rang, and she gratefully turned her attention away from the computer screen. "Yes?" She asked hopefully.
"Ms. MacManus?" It was her assistant, Jenna. In the background Caelan could hear other voices speaking loudly, but it was hard to make out exactly what they were saying
"Jenna, I told you. Call me Caelan."
"Ok, Caelan, could I interrupt you for a moment?"
"What's the problem?" The voices in the background rose, and Caelan could hear Jenna trying to quiet them, unsuccessfully. Was that a snippet of Italian she had just heard?
"Um, I'm not sure. I don't know the language. All I understood was your name."
Caelan was concerned. She rarely met clients face to face. "I'll be right out." She stood quickly from her desk and smoothing her suit, Caelan stepped out of her office and suddenly found herself standing before two large, well dressed men. One had a shaved head, the other had a nasty scar that ran the entire length of the left side of his neck. They were both a bit scary looking. Caelan gave them an odd look before the bald one spoke.
"Siete Caelan MacManus?" He asked in Italian. (Are you Caelan MacManus?)
"Sì. Che cosa sembra essere il problema, signori?" She replied. (Yes. What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?)
"Conosciamo chi siete." The scarred one spoke this time. (We know who you are)
The odd statement made Caelan frown, of course they knew who she was, they had asked for her by name, hadn't they? "Come lo conoscete?" (How do you know me?)
"I vostri fratelli. Conosciamo il loro segreto. Sono i san." (Your brothers. We know their secret. They're The Saints.)
Caelan felt the blood drain from her face, her thoughts racing. How could they know about Connor and Murphy? Only a select, privileged few knew they were the Saints, yet somehow these men had found out. "Ci deve essere un certo errore." She lied, struggling to keep her voice steady. (There must be some mistake.)
The two men exchanged a quick glance. Baldy spoke again, "No. La nostra sporgenza li ha trasmessi per trovarli. Sta morendo venirlo a contatto." (No. Our boss sent us to find you. He's dying to meet you.)
Panic flared, whoever these men were, she was certain that she didn't want to meet their boss. Mafia. The word was accompanied with a rush of adrenaline. She glanced over at Jenna who had been watching the exchange through the corner of her eye. "Non sto andando da nessuna parte," Caelan said, obstinately crossing her arms across her chest. (I'm not going anywhere.)
His expression bordering a sneer, the scarred man took a step toward her, "Se non andrete, li inciteremo ad andare." (If you will not go, we will make you go.)
"Farlo del potere di Sai noi," the other added. (Don't make us hurt you. Cooperate.)
Their tone left no room for discussion. Fear flooded Caelan's veins as she realized that if she didn't go willingly, they would force her to go and God help anyone that got in their way. What had Connor and Murphy gotten into? What had they gotten her into? These men knew her brothers were the Saints and she was now about to be taken, by force, to their boss. Time was running out as she weighed her options...Which were few.
Caelan watched as the scarred one started towards her again, but she swiftly held her hand out, stopping him. If she was going to surrender, she'd do it her way. "Andrò con voi. Non faccia prego una scena qui." (I will go with you. Please don't make a scene here.)
The men exchanged another quick glance at each other and then shot another around the lobby before nodding. Caelan turned to Jenna and tried her best to sound normal, "These men are on the wrong floor. I'm going to bring them downstairs."
Jenna gave her a concerned look, "All that over a wrong floor? Is everything alright?"
Caelan bit her lip and nodded, "I'll be right back."
Inside the elevator, Caelan was already regretting her decision, not that she ever really had a choice. Clearly she was going whether she wanted to or not. She glared at one of the men over her shoulder. "So who's your boss?" She asked, trying to keep her fear in check.
The scarred man chuckled. "You'll see soon enough."
Caelan turned to face them, surprised, "Oh, so you can speak English. What do you two think this is, Die Hard?"
The scarred one jerked his arm back and cracked his fist across Caelan's face, "You'll do well to watch your smart mouth you filthy Irish fica."
Dazed from the blow, Caelan brought her hand to her face, feeling blood welling where the man's ring had torn her skin. The elevator touched down on the ground floor and the scarred man grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulling her into the parking lot. After a furtive glance around the space, Baldy followed them. They led her across the pavement toward where a black car was waiting. Jerking the door open, Scar shoved her inside. Caelan landed painfully in the backseat, a curse on her lips. Before she could manage however, there was a sharp, stabbing pain in her arm.
"Sleep Tight." Baldy said, and Caelan's world went black.
Where am I?
Slowly the darkness became light and the light became pain. Blinking hard, Caelan surveyed her new surroundings. The unfinished stone walls and heavy door in front of her probably meant a basement. There was a foul tasting gag in her mouth and blood from her cheek had dried thick and itching down her face.
Trying to move her numbed hands, she discovered that her wrists and ankles were handcuffed to the rungs of the chair. Below her feet there were puddles of dried blood, black and flaking with age.
Oh, God...
The heavy door opened, and three men entered. She recognized two of the men as the ones that had taken her initially, the third was unfamiliar.
The new man was younger than the others, Caelan guessed that he couldn't be any more than twenty, but he carried himself with the poise and dignity of someone much older. He was nicely dressed in an expensive black suit and tie, his hair neatly slicked back.
Slowly, the new man approached her, reaching out to cup her chin in his hand.
"Who is responsible for this?" he asked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wetting it with his tongue. Squeezing painfully when Caelen tried to pull away, the man carefully wiped at the blood crusting her cheek
The two men behind him exchanged a nervous glance. The one with the scar to the right stepped forward. "I am, Sir."
"Really?" Suddenly the hand was gone from Caelan's chin and the tattooed man was reeling from an unseen blow.
Straightening, the goon gingerly touched the already blackening bruise beneath his eye. "It won't happen again."
"I know that it won't." The suit turned back to face her. "Chiedo scusa, signora. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Marco Yakavetta." (I apologize, my lady.)
Yakavetta. It sounded familiar, but Caelan couldn't place how.
"I see you know my name. I bet you're wondering how I found you. I know I would be." Marco said, slowly circling Caelan's chair. He stopped in front of her and removed the gag. "There. Is that better? You see, Caelan, I'm generally not in the business of hurting women. At least, not intentionally. But you. You're special."
Caelan spit on the floor in a very unladylike fashion to clear the taste of the gag from her mouth, and out of pure disrespect, "I'm nobody."
"You're so wrong. You are sister to the Saints of South Boston. That makes you very, very special." Caelan looked down at the floor and Marco chuckled, "Ah. So now you understand. You see, your brothers and father were the ones that killed my father. They murdered him at his own trial. I can think of nothing more horrible...Can you?"
She suddenly remembered the Yakavetta name. Giseuppi Yakavetta was the mob boss her brothers had told her about. "Only the crimes your father committed when he was alive." She blurted out, bracing herself for the repercussions of her statement.
"You MacManuses certainly are a righteous brood." He resumed circling her. "I have gone to great lengths to find you. I started with that traitor Rocco's apartment. For the shit-hole it was he turned out to be more clever than we thought and left nothing behind. So I started to ask around. I came to find out Rocco frequented a bar called McGinty's."
Caelan stiffened, her thoughts going immediately to Doc. If this bastard had hurt him...
Marco chuckled, "Don't worry. I left that tourette-ridden old man alone. I didn't have to ask him a thing. You'd be surprised how many people will spill their guts at the mere sight of a gun." He stopped in front of her again. "Once I had the name of your brothers, it was only a matter of time before I learned everything else. They left for Ireland, which was a pity, but to learn they had a sister living in New York City…it appears fortune is finally smiling on me."
"Fuck," She muttered softly, defeat in her voice.
"Please understand I do feel for you. To be put in the middle of this…"
"Spare me your pity." Caelan said defiantly, anger momentarily replacing her fear. How dare this asshole come into her life and threaten her and the people she cared about?
Smirking, Marco took her chin in his hand again. "So proud. So beautiful. If it weren't for your wretched family, I think I might be smitten with you." He traced her jaw with his finger, slowly moving it down her neck and toward her chest, where it hovered for a moment over the cross she wore. "Time to send a message." In one swift movement he gripped the cross in his fist and yanked the chain from her neck, holding it up. "Yes. This will do nicely." Tucking the necklace in his pocket he looked down at her. "You, my dear, shall stay here, and I do apologize for the accommodations."
He turned and quickly walked away from her, the two other men following behind her like well-trained dogs. Caelan closed her eyes tightly as the door closed behind them. She was trapped, there was no way out. There was only one thing left to do.
"Our Father," she whispered, bowing her head, "Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…"
†
"Murph, when're ya gonna quit loafin' around here and get a real job?" Connor asked, playfully messing his brother's hair.
"Fuck you, Connor. I got a real job. Didn't Ma tell ya?"
"Personal escort to Mary O'Neill doesn't count."
"Hardy fuckin' har." Murphy said, swatting at his brother, "I'm workin' at the Anvil. Bartendin', bouncin'. Whatever needs ta be done, I do it. That Uncle of ours pays pretty well too for a penny-pinchin' old bastard."
Connor nodded. "Good ta hear. He's needed help with that place since before I can remember. So when did Ma say they'd be back?"
"She didn't. Mary took her shopping."
"Oh Christ."
"Conn, Murph, do you want something to drink while I'm out here?" Maggie called from the kitchen.
"Beer," the twins replied in unison.
"You talk to Cae lately?" Connor asked settling next to Murphy on the couch.
"Yeah, two days ago."
"When the fuck is she movin' back?"
"She said hopefully by the end of the year. She has to find a replacement for herself. And she's still gotta deal with the whole David situation. I fuckin swear, if..." Murphy was interrupted by a knock at the door. Standing, he made his way toward the front door. Surprised to see a delivery man standing on the other side.
"MacManus?" the man asked.
Murphy gave him an odd look. "Aye?"
"Here ya' go then." He held out a heavy cardboard envelope and a clipboard. "Sign here."
Taking the package, Murphy scribbled his name on the form.
"Thanks." he murmured absently, closing the door, staring at the envelope.
Connor raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What is it?"
"I don't know. It's from the States though."
"Maybe Cae sent ya somethin'."
"It just says 'MacManus,' no first name and no return address either. Must've been important though, she sent it overnight." He rejoined his brother on the couch.
"Well, open it."
Murphy shrugged and tore the envelope open. At first glance it didn't appear that anything was inside. He squinted deeper into the envelope just as Maggie entered the room. "Here ya' go boys." placing two bottles of beer in front of them.
Murphy turned the envelope upside down and gave it a shake watching as something shining fell to the floor. He picked the object up with a frown, holding it up in front of his face. It was Caelan's cross.
"The fuck?"
"What?" Maggie asked confused.
Connor snatched the necklace from his brother. "This is Caelan's cross. She never takes it off…Ever." He examined the chain closely. "The clasp is broken."
Murphy jumped from the couch. "What time is it there?" Murphy said, glancing at the clock as he got up to search for the phone.
Maggie looked down at her watch. "I think it's about 1:30 or so in New York. What's going on?"
Connor shook his head. "Don't know. Never hurts to check, though. Call her at work, Murph."
Murphy nodded and quickly dialed. It seemed like it took an eternity for the call to connect and when a female voice answered, It wasn't Caelan.
"Caelan MacManus please."
I'm sorry, Ms. MacManus isn't in today. Would you like to leave a message?
"No, thanks." He slammed the phone down. "She's not in."
"Cell phone?" Connor offered.
Again, Murphy dialed. The call rang through, but again Caelan didn't answer. "Where the fuck is she?"
Maggie noticed the twins concern. "What about David? Do you have his number?"
Murphy was about to try him at work when the phone rang. He grabbed it mid-ring. "Cae?"
"To whom am I speaking?" The voice asked. His accent was thickly Italian.
"Who the fuck is this?" Murphy barked.
"Let me ask you a question, Saint. Were you proud that day when you murdered my father? Did it give you and your Mick brother a thrill?"
Murphy felt the blood drain from his face and was aware of Connor coming to stand next to him, adjusting the phone so they could both hear and placing a hand on the back of his neck.
"Who is this? Where is my sister?"
"Ah, good, then you received my package. Your beautiful sister is my guest of honor. I can already tell she must mean a great deal to you. Family. It's so important. Wouldn't you agree? My Poppa used to tell me family was the most important thing in the world to him…Or at least he did before you slaughtered him."
"I didn't touch your fuckin' father."
"Oh but you did, you blew his head off at his own trial. You murdered him in front of dozens of people."
"Yakavetta." Murphy spat, "What do you want?"
"That thrill. That thrill of victory, of defeat over my enemy. I want to feel it. And I will, Saint, when I butcher your beloved sister the way you butchered my father."
"I'll fuckin' kill you." Murphy shouted into the phone, Connor echoing something similar.
"Not before I slit her throat."
"You bastard."
Connor fumbled for a pen, writing quickly on the newspaper that Murphy had been reading and holding it up for him to see.
Smecker. He read, noticing that his brother's normally smooth handwriting was unsteady.
"Don't even consider calling the police, or the next package you receive might not be so . . . pleasant."
"Fuck!" Connor hissed, tossing the newspaper away.
"You will come or she will die."
"Where?" Murphy shouted, and was met with only silence, "You fuckin' piece of shite, where?"
There was the telltale click of a receiver and the line went dead. Murphy slammed the phone down so hard it fell off the wall. "If that bastard so much as touches Cae, I'll kill him."
"Yakavetta" Connor scrubbed a hand over his face, "Did ya' know he had a son?"
"Who is Yakavetta? Why would he want to hurt Caelan? What the fuck is going on?" Maggie said, her eyes wide and confused.
Connor looked at Maggie cautiously. "Mags, there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you before we left Boston, but I can't right now."
"But I don't understand!"
Connor grabbed her and pulled her close to him. "I'll tell you everything, I promise, but right now, I have to go."
"What's all the yellin' about, eh?" Will chose this moment to come downstairs. "What's goin' on down here?"
"Something's happened to Caelan, Da."
Will's face quickly showed his concern. "What's happened?"
Connor held Caelan's broken necklace up. "Murph just got a call…Some bastard goin' on about Yakavetta bein' his father and getting' revenge."
"Marco." Will said as he reached the bottom floor. "Yakavetta had a son named Marco, though he couldn't be more than nineteen if me memory serves."
"I didn't even know he had a son." Murphy said.
"Aye. Yakavetta never let im' come around…always had him away at school. I never met im', but I remember hearing about him once or twice. What does all of this have to do with Caelan?"
"Marco, or whoever, is holding her captive. He wants to see us face to face…He said he'd kill her if we didn't show up."
Will thought quickly. "Call Smecker."
"He said no cops."
"Well, then make sure you tell him that. And tell Smecker we'll be on the first flight out."
†
Caelan was starving.
She had been chained to her chair all day and all night, and her adrenaline had worn off a long time ago. Carefully taking in her surroundings for the hundredth time since she had been taken prisoner, she tried again in vain to figure a way out. She considered screaming for help, but since Marco found it unnecessary to replace her gag, she figured it was most likely a pointless action.
There were two small windows behind her that would be easy to break…if she weren't cuffed to this damn chair. She sighed defeated and tried to focus on something, anything that would keep her mind off the increasing pain she felt in her stomach.
"What would they do if they were me?" She felt herself anger a bit at the thought of her brothers. "I wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for them."
Suddenly, the basement door opened, and Marco appeared. He carried a plate of food in his hands. Another very large, dumb-looking lackey followed behind him. "You must be famished." He said plainly, placing the plate of food on the floor at her feet. "If you promise not to do anything stupid, I'll have Luca unlock the cuffs on your arms so you can eat."
Caelan sneered at him. "What's the point of all this? Aren't you just going to kill me?"
Marco smirked at her, "I actually haven't decided yet. More than likely."
"Then why even bother?"
"Can't have you weak and weary when your family arrives. Gotta keep you at full strength so I can have your full attention when I slit your brothers' throats."
The statement enraged her, "Fuck you and your fucking charity voi parte del vigliacco della merda." (You piece of shit coward) She inhaled deeply through her nose and spit in his face.
The action met Marco with little amusement. He pulled a handkerchief from his lapel pocket and wiped her saliva off his face. "Very well. You can starve you piccolo cagna." (Little bitch) He turned away from her sharply and exited the room. His lackey picked up the tray and followed after him, closing the door behind him.
Caelan couldn't help but smile at her defiance before turning her thoughts back to her hopeless escape.