Chapter 4
Joe felt sick. The repeated ether induced sedation had lifted and it had left a nausea in its wake that Joe had experienced before. Only this time it was worse. He tried to draw a deep breath but he found that he was again gagged. His ears were pounding. The swerving motion of his surroundings and the loud mechanical sound at such high level indicated a helicopter. He couldn´t see, there was a cloth, presumably some sort of sack he had been put in. It was stuffy. His hands were bound behind his back. And his back hurt like hell, like some of his ribs were broken and he couldn´t breathe deeply. He was afraid he would have to throw up. But that would be the death of him. He would choke on his own vomit. He tried to breathe easy, but when he felt the acrid bile rise in his throat he almost panicked.
Then all of a sudden the noise subsided and there was a draft of some sort. Someone kicked him in the ribs again and he rolled over. But the ground gave way and he fell, and with a thud he hit the ground hard. Something in his shoulder snapped with a sharp pain. He would have cried out but the gag kept the cry in his throat. He painfully bit his tongue and wished he was dead.
Then the helicopter sound lifted over his head and rapidly faded away.
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Levon looked at the ad. He had told Joanne what he had found out. It was hard to decide what to do next. He had never been to Las Vegas and there was no way that a cop from the HPD could investigate a kidnapping there on an unofficial basis. And Joanne did not want to go via the Feds.
Then Levon remembered Greg Wilberry. Greg was a colleague who had worked for the HPD years ago. They had been good pals then. Greg had gone to Las Vegas with his fiancée to get married. But on the night of his matrimony Greg had met a show dancer and fallen in love with her. He had dumped his fiancée and on impulse he had married the dancer. Greg had asked to be transferred to the Las Vegas Police Department. And he was happy there with his new wife.
Greg had been a good colleague and friend. He had frequently asked his former colleagues from the HPD to come visit him. Now Levon thought it was time to get in touch.
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It was almost dark now, the light of day had faded rapidly within the last minutes. Paolo picked up his bag and stepped up to the cabin door. He wasn´t quite sure what to expect but what he encountered was certainly not what he had bargained for.
The single room behind the door was empty. Empty in the sense of barren, void of any content. Paolo blinked. The picture before him did not change. He looked behind him but there was no one to talk to, no one who confirmed that this was just a joke and it would change in a second. He looked at the sky and shouted: "Hey, idiota, this is the wrong place. Come back!" But the helicopter was long gone.
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There was no news from Chicago. No further messages. Uncle Mikey had tried to find out which of his opponents might be trying to take over his business. There were several younger men who were ambitious and who wanted to come up in the ranks of the mob hierarchy. But it was a long shot to guess without proof at hand if one of them was responsible for Joe´s abduction.
The CPD had unofficially examined the bloody print on the Polaroid. It was indeed Joe´s blood type.
Levon had contacted his former colleague Greg. He was relieved to find Greg still with the Las Vegas Police Department, now a Lieutenant and he was glad to help. While Levon was on his way to Las Vegas, Greg´s team started to comb through the hotel registers. Joe must have checked in someplace. The question was how long it would take to find that place.
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Levon entered the office of the Las Vegas Police Department. The flight to Las Vegas had been uneventful. Now he was eager to join the team of detectives that was putting every possible effort into finding Joe.
"Levon, great to see you." Greg Wilberry came out of his fishbowl to greet him. "Would have preferred to have you here for a real holiday, though."
"Yeah, right. I´ve never been to Sin City before, come to think of it." Levon lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair.
"Have you booked a hotel yet? I know a few really cool places."
"I´ll take care of that later. I´d rather see what you´ve found out."
Greg nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Well, I have to admit that we haven´t gotten far yet."
"No hotel registration?"
"No, my team has combed through the registers of almost every hotel but we are not really sure what we are looking for. The fact that we haven´t come across your partner´s name anywhere does not mean that he hasn´t checked into any of the places here. Perhaps we need to take a different approach." Greg stepped over to the coffee machine and picked up the perking pot. "Want some?"
"Yeah, thanks, I could do with some." Levon gladly took the steaming mug that Greg had filled for him.
"I had time enough to think about it on the plane. I guess if Joe registered under a false name, he still would use an Italian name. I don´t know why but these stubborn Italians are somehow of too proud to thoroughly renounce their origin," Levon speculated loudly.
"If that´s so then we need to check all the Italian names we have gathered during the search so far." Greg took a swig from his mug.
"How many are we talking about here?" Levon rather enjoyed the strong brew, it revived his senses.
Greg picked up a sheet of paper and looked at it. "About 50 I´d say."
Levon whistled. "That´s a long list, can I have a look?"
"Sure." Greg handed the list over. Levon tried to take in the names. Many sounded strange to him and he wouldn´t even know how to pronounce them correctly. Suddenly he had an idea.
"Do you mind if I phone my partner´s uncle about this. If there is anyone who can help us here it should be him."
Greg seemed hesitant. "I have a few qualms about the privacy of people who are in no way involved in any criminal dealings here." Then he shrugged. "If there is no other way I think I can justify it…" He pointed at the phone. "I might as well leave you to it." With that he left the office to take care of some other business.
Levon pulled out a piece of paper and dialed the number of Michael LaFiamma, Joe´s uncle, the prominent mob boss. He was surprised to have the high ranking man answer after only one ring.
"Pronto?"
"Levon Lundy, Mr. LaFiamma?"
"Si, Mr. Lundy, any news?"
"No, sorry Sir. But we need your help." In a few sentences Levon explained the problem. Michael LaFiamma offered at once to go through all the Italian names. Maybe he would recognize one or the other. Levon wrote down a fax number. Then he hung up. Within minutes the list was on its way to Chicago.
Expecting that it would take some time Levon went to the men´s room. When he returned to the bullpen only minutes later, Greg beckoned him into his office, holding out the receiver to Levon.
"Mr. LaFiamma wants to speak to you, Levon."
Levon grabbed the receiver. "Sir?"
"Take a look at the list."
"I´ve got it."
"OK, there are several names and what is very striking is that they are all registered at the same hotel."
"Which one?"
"All at the Stardust."
Levon ran through the pages. There, the Stardust had really a large number of Italian names registered. "Which names, Sir?"
"Don´t be so damn formal, Lundy."
"Sorry, Mr. LaFiamma, go ahead."
"For one, there is a group of women at the hotel for three nights. I know some of them, they are daughters of …let´s say business partners. One in particular is of interest here: Giulietta Disanto."
"What´s the significance, Mr. LaFiamma?"
"She´s Joey´s former fiancée."
Levon was dumbstruck. Joe had never said that he had been engaged to be married. "Come again?"
"You´ve heard right, Joey and Giulietta were supposed to get married, had in fact been friends since kindergarten and sweethearts since their teens."
"What broke them up?" Levon could not imagine what had happened to separate Joe from a love he had been faithful to all those years.
"They split when Joey decided to become a cop."
Levon swallowed. That couldn´t have been a decision taken lightly. He would have to talk about this to Joe some time or other, well at the odd chance that Joe was willing to. "You think she lured him into a trap?"
"I doubt that, she would never do that. They were both extremely loyal towards each other. But somebody else might have used her or exploited the situation."
"Ok, we´ll check. You said there were several names?" Levon marked the woman´s name on the list and he underlined the hotel name.
"Yeah, there is also a Giuseppe Lorenzo in the register of the Stardust. I think that is the name Joey has used to check in there."
"How do you figure?"
"Lorenzo was the maiden name of Joey´s grandmother, and Giuseppe is Italian for Joseph."
That seemed rather a long shot but maybe it was worth pursuing, Levon thought to himself. "Ok, we´ll check this out. Anything else?"
There was a suppressed curse at the other end of the line. "Merda!"* *shit
"Sorry?"
"There is someone else on the list, Barberi and it looks like he´s brought two of his thugs with him," Michael LaFiamma was fuming.
"Who is he?" Levon enquired.
"He´s Renaldo Disanto´s future son-in-law, that is Giulietta´s future husband. Now I see the connection. Giulietta probably wanted to see Joey one last time before becoming Barberi´s wife. Or she might even have planned to run away from him with Joey´s help. That would also provide a further motivation behind Joey´s abduction."
"Could that also account for the demand…" Levon was reluctant to voice it openly, "…to step down from your position?"
"Yes, I guess now I know who I am dealing with. The Disanto business and the LaFiamma business have coexisted for centuries without any attempts of either party to take over the other. There was a mutual understanding which now seems to have come to an end. Barberi is an ambitious bastard. But I never would have thought that he´d try to expand his business before he has even taken over the Disanto branch." The mob boss refrained from mentioning that Joey´s and Giulietta´s marriage would have led to a much desired merger of the two family businesses.
Levon turned the possibilities over and over in his mind. Just like Joanne he felt extremely uneasy about helping a prominent mob boss to keep up his realm. But that was just a side effect. Foremost on everybody´s mind was the concern for Joe´s health and life. And the information Michael LaFiamma had given them was vital for Joe´s retrieval.
"Ok, we´ll check them all. Thanks, Mr. LaFiamma."
"Mr. Lundy, will you let me know if there is any news?" The powerful man´s voice sounded timid all of a sudden. "With regards to Joe, I mean?"
"Yes, I will, but just as far as Joe is concerned," Levon stated matter-of-factly.
"That´s understood, Mr. Lundy, that´s understood without doubt." Michael LaFiamma sounded almost resigned. Then there was a click and the line went dead.
Levon put down the receiver and turned around, looking straight into Greg´s expectant face. "Let´s get rolling." He grabbed his hat and with the list in hand headed for the door.
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Now that they knew where to look for traces Leven felt almost elated. But at the back of his mind there was still that nagging feeling, that hunch indicating all too clearly that his partner was in trouble, really big trouble. Why hadn´t Joe told him about the trip? But on second thought Levon had to admit that in the past they hadn´t shared private or confidential matters lightly.
On their drive to the Stardust Greg tried to divert Levon by pointing out the sights of Las Vegas. But Levon was too preoccupied. So in the end they both fell silent.
Finally they reached the Stardust. After briefly explaining why they were there and what they were looking for they were lead to the office of the manager. Mr. Burrows called in the concierge. Together they went through the bookings and the register on the computer system.
"As it seems, Mr. Lundy, all the guests you are referring to have already checked out again. The last ones were the women of that group who came here to party." The manager seemed apologetic.
"Do you have any information about the means of transportation these people took when they left?"
"Well, we´ll have to check that." The manager looked at the concierge. "Marc, can you check that out?"
"Yeah, sure." He left for his own office.
The manager continued to comb through the computer entries. "Here is something that might interest you. It is not completely uncommon, we do have it from time to time."
"What do you mean? What do you have?" Levon´s suspicion was aroused by the remark.
"We sometimes have guests who don´t check out properly," the manager explained.
"Who didn´t?" Levon bent over, tension rising and the hair at the back of his neck standing up.
"There are actually two guests who didn´t check out. First a Giulietta Disanto, and then this Giuseppe Lorenzo. Both also left their baggage behind. But the reservations had only been for two nights, so we cleared the rooms…"
"Where is the baggage? I need to see it," Levon cut in, jumping up from his seat.
The manager continued unimpressed: ":..then we had a Gina Grigio who also did not check out. And in one of the two rooms she booked we found a pair of shoes and a man´s jacket."
"What kind of shoes?"
"I don´t know, it doesn´t say here."
"I need to see those too." Levon could hardly hold back.
The manager reached for the phone, punched in a number, asked for someone to bring the things to his office. "They´ll be here in a few minutes. Do you want some coffee in the meantime?"
"No, thanks."
"Let´s get back to the question of transportation," Greg said. "Could you check if you can find anything about that?"
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the secured items. At once Levon opened the small suitcase and instantly knew by the two shirts lying on top that this case was Joe´s. He also recognized Joe´s jacket. The shoes were Italian loafers, seize 11. The shoe´s Levon had teased his partner about countless times. Levon dug deeper into the content of the case and retrieved a folded sheet of paper. He unfolded it and knew at once that this was the letter Joe had received from the mystery woman. His eyes flew over the neat handwritten lines and somehow he had the acute feeling he was invading a very intimate moment. Blushing he refolded the paper and slipped it into his breast pocket.
Then Levon opened the second small case. The contents were that of a woman, a few clothes, toiletries, nothing significant, no obvious connection to Joe or his disappearance.
"Maybe this Gina Grigio is in fact Giulietta Disanto. Whether it was a trap still needs to be investigated. If it wasn´t, well that doesn´t change things. Joe´s been abducted from that room and he had no chance to get back to his things." Levon met Greg´s gaze.
"But the fact that she left her things behind as well makes it likely that she was taken too. And whoever abducted these two people must have left some traces," Greg concluded.
"I have something here," the manager cut in. "There was a booking for a helicopter flight from here for a Mr. Barberi this afternoon."
This was it. Levon donned his hat and headed for the door. "Where were they headed?"
"That´s not given in the booking. That was a private arrangement with the pilot, you will have to enquire with the airline about it."
Levon looked at Greg. "We´ll find that out for sure, don´t worry Levon." He headed after the Texan, who was already on his way out, throwing a quick salutation over his shoulder: "Thanks for the cooperation."
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Paolo Morone was torn between crying out in rage and burning down the damn place. But that would have left him without a shelter for the night. So he raged for half an hour, kicking the hostage, cussing in Italian, throwing his bag into the cabin and slamming the door shut.
Finally he drew in a deep breath. The attempt to assess his surroundings was hindered by the lack of daylight. During that half hour the light had vanished completely. It was pitch black. For a city guy who was used to always having some light around the whole scene was scaring. It was hardly possible to see one´s own hands in front of one´s face.
On top of everything it was getting real cold. Other than in the city, where the warmth of sunlight was stored by the buildings during the daytime and released during the night, the vast forest around the cabin did not collect the heat. The moisture from the mossy duff evaporated to form a rising mist that further limited the visibility and added to the uncomfortable feel.
Paolo shuddered. For now he couldn´t do anything, just get inside the hut and try to retain at least some warmth. He stepped up to the unshaped lump in the laundry sack. He cautiously jolted it with the tip of his shoe. There was a muffled sound and an uncoordinated movement away from the foot. Paolo took out his knife and slit open the sack. Then he pulled off the gag. He cut the restraints that were fixed around the wrists of the hostage.
The prisoner frantically gasped for breath and started to cough convulsively. The coughing seemed to cause acute pain and he immediately suppressed any further eruption with a moan.
Paolo again nudged him with his foot. "Get up." There was no reaction. The nudge turned into a more forceful kick. "I said, get up!"
"Hold it, will you." Joe´s voice was hoarse. "Give me a second." He slowly sat up. First he felt too stiff to move. Then he slowly brought his left hand and arm to the front of his body. A sharp pain in his right shoulder kept him from performing the same movement with his right arm. He winced and got hold of the arm, cautiously cradling the limb to prevent more hurt to the shoulder. This was probably the result of the fall, he had felt a bone snap when he had hit the ground hard, probably the collarbone. He closed his eyes. One more handicap that added to his disadvantageous position.
Morone nudged him again. "Come on, get going, or do you wanna spend the night in the open?" He got hold of Joe´s left arm and forcefully pulled him up. Joe cried out and in order to avoid more pain he scrambled to his feet. That elicited another cry of anguish and Joe drew up his right foot instantly. Both men looked down at the ground. It was covered with sharp stones. Joe´s feet were bare. When Donati and Morone had dressed him they had neither put his socks nor his shoes on his feet.
Morone cursed. "Get in there and watch your step. The boss will kill me if you cut your feet." Joe wondered at the non-existent logic of the order. Cutting his feet on the stones seemed much preferable to being kicked and thrown out of a helicopter.
Hesitantly Joe crossed the threshold and stepped into the cabin. Taking in the emptiness of the place he sarcastically uttered: "Comfy!" which earned him another kick in the butt.