WA-5 Draft 3

The Rotini family Capo just said to get it over with. He picked me, his third son, to do the job. I awoke early in the morning to get myself organized: 1 .45 caliber pistol, 1 map of New York City, 1 body bag, and a change of clothes. The Capo said I should get rid of the body as soon as possible, but take extra care that he was dead. He did not want a repeat of last time. I rode an automobile (with two body guards) out of Yonkers, down route 87, towards Long Island City, just across the river from Manhattan. My older brother Gregorio, who was working intel on this assignment, said the “Great-Grandfather” of the Conolé family would be at his family’s house at 11 a.m.. I ran through my responsibilities once again in my mind:
· Kill the “Great-Grandfather”
· Escape with the body and dispose of it
· Plant clues leading to the Sicilians

As I approached the Conolé residence I noticed a sea of colorful streamers strung across all the trees, painting the grey city sky green, white and red. I could hear faint music drifting lazily from the grounds. I pulled up across the street from the entrance to the safe house. My heart stopped when I recognized the raucous bursts of laughter and delicate tinkling of champagne glasses of a wedding reception. Gregorio hadn’t said anything about a wedding! I needed a minute to stop hyperventilating and get my focus back. What did the Capo always say? “If you are in a bad situation, do not panic. Focus on the goal, and find a way to achieve, by any means necessary. You know what you have to do.” I kept repeating that to myself as I stepped out of the car. Luckily, my change of clothes happened to be a tuxedo, so I didn’t stand out at the party.

Getting past security would be the hardest part. I held my breath as the guards patted me down; all the while giving me the ‘I know you’re hiding something face.” I was indeed, but they did not check the groin area so I was safe there. The reception was in full force when I arrived and I took a glass of expensive Italian champagne from a waiter. Just to calm my nerves you understand. I could see a beautiful lady dancing with a well dressed man on the raised dance floor. I assumed that was the famous Carlina Conolé and her new husband. Despite the alcohol, I anxiously began to sweat when I saw my intended target dancing with his wife, the Viscontessa Conolé. The string quartet finished playing, and the “Great-Grandfather” bowed to his wife and swiftly strode into the house. I ambled around for some time, nervously eyeing people with wide smiles upon their faces.

I made my way across the garden towards the entrance to the house. I stepped into the front hall, and asked a man waiting by the staircase if I could possibly see the Master of the family. He replied, “No one is to see the Great-Grandfather on his daughter’s wedding day.” I said, “Well, you might want to go see if the two men at the gate are alright. One of them said he didn’t feel so well, and that he might have to throw up.”
The staircase guard gave me a weird look, and then asked me, “Which one was it?”I said softly, “The big one. He didn’t look to good when I came in.”
With that the guard took off in the direction of the gate, not wanting to anger his father by only having one person guarding the gate. I slowly walked upstairs, pulling the pistol out of my pants, and replacing it for better reaction time at my belt. When I got to the Conolé Capo’s room I took a deep breath, and slowly turned the handle. This was it, I told myself. My moment of glory.

“Carlina, my flower,” the Conole Capo said slowly, “why have you come to my private room on your wedding day? You should be outside dancing and enjoying the sun and laughter.”“Father,” I replied, “I saw a man on the lawn, alone. His face was twisted in emotion, and his belt glinted in the sun for a second. I think he plans to kill you!”“Do not worry my child,” he said in a convincing tone.Just at that second, I soft clicking sound came from behind the door. “Quick, get to one side of the door!”I slid an umbrella out of its stand, and held it like a baseball bat, the heavy handle swinging slowly above my head. The door slowly opened, and a gun poked through. Then a shoulder, and finally a head. I struck swiftly and accurately. He never saw anything. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead and into his eyebrow. Papa turned around. He had been facing towards the window, watching the day’s proceedings. He nodded, and I pulled the gun out of the mysterious man’s warm hand. With caution I turned the weapon on its owner, and slowly pulled the trigger. The explosion knocked me down, but my father helped me back up. “What’s done is done, my flower.” With that, he took my arm and we walked out of that dusty place, down the stairs, and back out into the sunshine of the happiest day of my life.