“Fuck.”
“What?”
“Fausto always made fun of Mario ever since that video game came out in the nineties, I think it was. The name . . . Mario truck, no Mario Cart, the other brother in it was Luigi.”
“You think it’s Mario’s company and shipment?”
“Must be. They move the coke around in the bottom of the vats of oil. They keep moving it around from port to port making drop offs and the girls could be on it and shipped around as well for that matter.”
“We have a window of what? How much time do we have?”
I pull out my laptop.
“Not that long, someone is bound to come by soon if the girls are down there.”
“Right.” Sal looks to me and asks, “How fast can you get into the system?”
“Ha, they never took me off, I’m in. Let me see.” My fingers fly over a keyboard that’s so worn, it’s glossy. “There is a ship due to arrive in four hours.”
“Four hours? Makes sense, it’s will still be dark out when they load the girls and unload the coke. I’ll text Marchello so we’ll be ready for them when they arrive.”
Sal texts on his burner phone, then puts it way when he’s done.
“We need to find your brothers.” He looks at me.
“I know. And the only other piece of the puzzle is, where is Angelo?” I ask with trepidation. “Let’s go looking around. There is a torture room under the old wing of the house.”
“Not another old wine cellar?” Sal mocks me as I pack my bag and immediately jump as a lightning bolt hits the ground outside the window.
I hand him the infrared camera.
“Very funny, but yes, more of an olive oil and wine cellar. We added to the house when we remodeled so Dad made a state of the art one. He figured no one would ask about the old one, and no one did. It’s a short flight down under the back of the house.”
“I’ll follow you,” I say as she leads the way. All the while, Matteo has his weapon at his side to remain inconspicuous yet prepared. We all have our eyes peeled and exit the port in the box truck, uncover our vehicle and make our way back to the compound.
Guards are in positions around the house. We wait in the shadows as the sky opens and a heavy rain soaks us. The men go inside to stay dry, so we take our opportunity to get closer to the cellar and Sal uses the camera that shows three people.
Sal motions that he’s going first and waits for lightning to make noise before opening the exterior door. He heads down first with his gun drawn and I pull mine.
A heavy, shallow breathing voice is heard. “Yeah, well, soon it will be over.”
“Ha, you thought you had it all. You were so full of your glory that you never looked around you to notice that you were just a stooge for the Contis.” The other one lets out a light cough as cigarette smoke fills the air.
They must have been down here for hours, if not days, judging by the air that reeks of smoke and stale bourbon.
The step under me gives way, causing a creak, not loud but enough for them to hear. Or did they?
Oh, where is the thunder when I need it?I pray to myself.
We hear footsteps, and I don’t want to use my gun, but in the end, our lives all come down to the inevitable—it’s them or us.
Sal raises his left hand and puts up three fingers motioning them forward.
He’s going in and a wood step lets out a tiny creak.
Sal steps into the room with lightening quick speed, kicks the heavy-set man in the groin, bringing him down with one large thud.
I go into action with the man behind him who doesn’t have a chance to grab the gun around this waist.