CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

N ext time my eyes open, I’m achey all over. I can see okay, though. And I can hear what’s going on, too.

There’s the good doctor.

I tell him, “You’re everywhere.”

He says, “I had no choice.”

I say, “What?”

Two men drag him away.

Heavy feet pound the floor toward me. From behind. I turn the chair and to my complete lack of surprise, I’m greeted by a dark vision of the lumbering frame of Don Romano, lurching fast in my direction.

He’s roaring, “You fucking idiots, you puny little fuckwits complain about your measly businesses being bothered and disrupted, the nasty man coming at you? That’s the free market, you whining little shits.”

I ought to pay attention. It’s clearly me that he’s ranting at, but I’m still reeling and fighting to recover my senses. I don’t want to have to listen to him lecturing me.

“Capital,” he waves a fist in the air. “The competitive arena of ideas. Wealth creation. Growth. Bigger fish eat smaller fish. Progress. Man’s ultimate ascent. All the advances that we have made as a species have been achieved by men who were determined enough and courageous enough to do whatever it took, the ones who were ready to make any sacrifice, to pay any price to do what needed to be done.”

Seriously. I’m getting a headache. Why do men like him always believe that their ideas improve the more they shout and bludgeon you with them?

“Our country is the world’s great experiment in economics. The melting pot of competition. Here a man is tested by the strength of his ideas, and the strength of character he has to see them through. His willingness to make sacrifices, to go that extra mile, and his appetite for taking risk.”

I start to push myself out of the chair, but he’s very insistent that I stay seated.

“Where are my sons?” he roars in my face.

“Well,” I say, “Good morning to you, Don Romano.”

His scowl could start a landslide.

He booms, “We raised the towers since your last visit. They’re much higher now, so you won’t have your snipers here to bail you out this time. So sorry.”

I tell him, “I won’t need them. We can both see quite easily what the situation is here, Don Romano. You have me as your captive,” I tilt my head. It’s clearing, but I’m still pretty woozy. “Not for the first time, either.”

Then I ask him, “You wouldn’t have any lemonade, would you? Or maybe some ginger tea? I’m feeling pretty unsettled. What was that fucking horrible injection?”

“Where are my sons?”

“How about a glass of water then? Seriously, I’m not feeling at my best and I think you should take some responsibility for that. Also, I hate to be the one to say it, but you’re really not being that great of a host right now.”

The room is huge and imposing, kind of Blade Runner meets Dr. Strangelove. I can’t think why anyone would build something like this where they live, but I guess Don Romano has always seen himself in a state of war.

That must be terrible for him, but I expect it’s also pretty wearing on those around him.

He’s about to start his bluster and hectoring at me again. I hold up a hand. I still do feel quite disconnected. I tell him. “I don’t think there’s going to be too much difficulty. You brought me here for a purpose.”

I break off, “Please. A glass of water.”

His eyes blaze. At least he’s coming into a clear focus. I would be grateful for that if he weren’t so damned ugly.

He shouts. “Water. And lemonade. Now.” He snaps his thick fingers, loudly. then he adds, “And ginger fucking tea. But bring water first.”

A tall, elegant, bald man in an old-fashioned penguin suit hurries across the floor with a silver tray laden with glasses and a carafe. He looks serenely composed and he makes it look like he’s hardly moving at all. Amazing.

He sets the stray down on a table close by.

On the tray, a glass that’s frosted with cold droplets is two thirds filled with water. Next to it, a saucer with slices of ice. By them, a glass and a jug of lemonade, with a carafe of water.

The lemonade appeals most. I hold up a finger to Don Romano and say, excuse me. One moment. Please.”

I take a sip it’s freshly made and heavenly. Could be the best thing I ever tasted.

“Thank you.” I say to the butler and he bows very gracefully as he leaves.

“And thank you, Don Romano. I do feel better.”

He roars, “Where are my sons?”

“Don’t fool around, Don Romano. You want a negotiation. You brought me here because there’s something you want from me. Probably a pretty fat wad of wants, I’m guessing. And it’s bound to go your way.” I hold my hands out to my sides, palms up. “Obviously.”

I blink at him, struggling to keep my patience. “I mean, look — you’re holding the thing that’s most precious in the world to me.” I’m looking at him. There’s not much going on behind those black eyes as far as I can see. I pop my eyes wide and shake my head at him. “No?” Nothing.

“ Me , you dope. What am I not going to give up while you’ve got… me?” I press my lips together. “Come on! This is your plan, isn’t it? Do try to keep up. It’s probably a variation of the same plan as the last time you had me kidnapped. We are going to have to break you of that habit, by the way.”

“Where are…”

“Come on. You’ve got all the cards. Please. Let’s fast-forward to the part where you tell me all your outrageous demands, I shout and wail, but I totally have to give in to you because you’ve got me here, as a captive in your super-villain’s mountain top lair?”

“I’m going to get your men on a video call. They are going to watch your total, humiliating and crushing defeat.”

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if you really like women, Don Romano.”

He’s about to say something, so I say, quickly, “Sure. Do it. In fact, let’s use my phone. I’ve got them all on speed dial. I would like some company on my side of the table. Since you’ve stacked the odds so well in your favor.”

His face darkens.

I take out my phone, hold it up between my thumb and fingers and wave it. “Okay?”

He just glowers. I put a video call to Carlo.

He’s in a bare concrete room, with Alessio and Bruno.

Bruno says, “They took us. All of us, right after you went missing. Where are you?”

“Don Romano is holding me on his Hilltop House of Doom, or whatever he calls this monstrosity.”

Don Romano laughs. “It was touching how they all went berserk looking for you, running around like headless chickens. All of them ran straight into the tender, loving care of the men I had waiting all over the building.”

He scowls and leans forward. “So now you will tell me where my sons are.”

I tell him, “Okay, confession time. You ready? I can’t. I really have no where they are. None of us do.”

He bunches a fist and draws back his huge arm. I raise a finger, “But I can help you find them. So, let’s cut to the chase. You want some awful price from me. Lets do that part first. Boys after.”

“How do I know that you won’t have them harmed?

“Think, Don Romano. What cards would I have left to play?

He snarls. “I have all of your businesses in my grip right now. I can take everything. Everything. And I will. Either you sign it all over to me, complete, right now, willingly, or I’ll finish the job I started and take them all by force. It won’t take much now. I can be done by the end of the day. It would involve a lot of killing. But the market only rewards those who are ready to make the big moves.”

“Okay. You love the markets and competition so much, let’s compete. On your terms Don Romano. Let’s put some real risk on the table. All of my businesses. All that the family has. Everything. Against yours. The same stakes. A level table, a straight game and the same stakes.”

His voice rises higher. “I’ve already won, Donna Lucia. You are already mine. Now you want to cry about a fair game? Now? When you’ve lost. It’s over. I beat you. All you have is mine now. Turn it all over and if you’re very lucky, I’ll allow you to leave with your tail between your legs. Admit defeat and acknowledge me as the true victor. The winner.”

“Then,” I lift an eyebrow and nod, “With my assets and yours combined, your territory and mine, your power will dwarf Don Pucci’s into insignificance. You really will be the great emperor of the Pacific Northwest.

He laughs, “Hah! And all for one move. One cheat, as you might call it. But that is the great thing about our system. It doesn’t matter how you win, as long as you win. That’s really all.” His eyes widen. “So. All that remains is for you to sign over all of your businesses and assets in full, to me, and we can conclude our business.”

“Of course, Don Romano. I’m sure that you have papers ready. Bring them to me and I’ll sign.” With a little sly look, I tell him. “By the most amazing coincidence, in fact, I have my own version here. I believe I anticipated you.”

Now he frowns.

I say, “Not the manner of your invitation, of course. There really was no need for that.” I twist my mouth in disapproval. “Give me your paper. I’m ready. Show me where to sign.” He’s turning, reaching for something but I stop him, “Before I do, really want to know. Which is your favorite?”