cover as the small skiff bobbed up and down with the rhythm of the gentle ocean swells. The remaining killer sat nervously on the tiny seat at the bow, blinking his eyes and pulling up his hands under the glare of the powerful flashlight.
“Put your hands down,” ordered Hawthorne.
“The light is blinding me. Take it away!”
“Actually, that could be a blessing, blindness, I mean, if you force me only to wound you before shoving you over the side.”
“
Che còsa
?”
“We all have to die. Sometimes I think it’s the quality of death, not the event that counts.”
“What are you saying, signore …?”
“You’re going to tell me what I want to know or you’re shark meat. If you’re blind, you won’t see the great white’s row of pointed teeth before it chops you in half. The big fish are luminous, you know, seen clearly in dark water. Look! Over there, the dorsal fin! He must be an eighteen-footer; this is the season, you realize that, don’t you? Why do you think there are shark-fishing contests throughout the islands at this time of year?”
“I know nothing of such things!”
“Then you don’t get the local papers, but then, why should you? They don’t carry much news from Sicily.”
“Somehow you don’t strike me as a papal nuncio; they probably shoot better.… Come on,
paisan
, get in the real world—or get in the water with blood oozing out of your shoulder, as some is coming out of mine, and play games with our circling big fish whose jaws are larger than a third of its body.”
The capo’s head spun from side to side, his blinking eyes wide, his hands again trying to shield the light as he studied the water on both sides of the small boat. “I cannot
see
!”
“He’s right behind you. Turn around and you’ll spot it.”
“In the name of Christ, do not do this!”
“Why did you try to kill me?”
“Orders!”
“From whom?” The assassin did not answer. “It’s your death, not mine,” said Tyrell, cocking the AK-47. “I’ll chop off your left shoulder; the blood will spread quicker that way, like bleeding chum. Of course, the great whites like to nibble—hors d’oeuvres before the main meal.” Hawthorne squeezed the trigger, the explosions filling the night as he sprayed the water to the right of the Mafia capo.
“Stop!.… Stop in the holy name of
Jesus
!”
“Wow, you guys get religion quickly.” Hawthorne fired again, the volley ear-shattering, several bullets grazing the left shoulder of the mafioso.
“
Per piacere
! Please, I beg you!”
“My dorsal-finned friend down there is hungry. Why should I deny him?”
“You … you have heard of a valley …?” the killer choked, searching for words, obviously, in panic, recalling other words he had heard before. “From far away, across the sea!”
“I’ve heard of the Baaka Valley,” said Tyrell in a monotone. “It’s across the Mediterranean. So?”
“That’s where the orders come from, signore.”
“Who’s the relay? Who gave you those orders?”
“They come from Miami, what else can I tell you? I don’t know the
capi
!”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know, signore.”
“
Bajaratt
!” roared Hawthorne, seeing what he wanted to see in the capo’s wide eyes. “It is Bajaratt, isn’t it?”
“
Sì, sì
, I have heard the name. Nothing more.”
“From the Baaka?”
“Please, signore! I am merely a
soldato
, what do you want from me?”
“How did you find me? Did you follow a woman named Dominique Montaigne?”
“
Non capisco
, I do not know that name.”
“Liar!” Again Tyrell fired the AK-47, but no longer penetrating the capo’s shoulder, experience dictating his strategy with a terrified underling.
“I
swear
!” screamed the
capo subordinate
. “Others, also, have been looking for you.”
“Because they know I’m looking for this Bajaratt.”
“Whatever leads to you leads to you, signore.”
“Apparently it does,” said Tye, turning the boat
“Put your hands down,” ordered Hawthorne.
“The light is blinding me. Take it away!”
“Actually, that could be a blessing, blindness, I mean, if you force me only to wound you before shoving you over the side.”
“
Che còsa
?”
“We all have to die. Sometimes I think it’s the quality of death, not the event that counts.”
“What are you saying, signore …?”
“You’re going to tell me what I want to know or you’re shark meat. If you’re blind, you won’t see the great white’s row of pointed teeth before it chops you in half. The big fish are luminous, you know, seen clearly in dark water. Look! Over there, the dorsal fin! He must be an eighteen-footer; this is the season, you realize that, don’t you? Why do you think there are shark-fishing contests throughout the islands at this time of year?”
“I know nothing of such things!”
“Then you don’t get the local papers, but then, why should you? They don’t carry much news from Sicily.”
“Somehow you don’t strike me as a papal nuncio; they probably shoot better.… Come on,
paisan
, get in the real world—or get in the water with blood oozing out of your shoulder, as some is coming out of mine, and play games with our circling big fish whose jaws are larger than a third of its body.”
The capo’s head spun from side to side, his blinking eyes wide, his hands again trying to shield the light as he studied the water on both sides of the small boat. “I cannot
see
!”
“He’s right behind you. Turn around and you’ll spot it.”
“In the name of Christ, do not do this!”
“Why did you try to kill me?”
“Orders!”
“From whom?” The assassin did not answer. “It’s your death, not mine,” said Tyrell, cocking the AK-47. “I’ll chop off your left shoulder; the blood will spread quicker that way, like bleeding chum. Of course, the great whites like to nibble—hors d’oeuvres before the main meal.” Hawthorne squeezed the trigger, the explosions filling the night as he sprayed the water to the right of the Mafia capo.
“Stop!.… Stop in the holy name of
Jesus
!”
“Wow, you guys get religion quickly.” Hawthorne fired again, the volley ear-shattering, several bullets grazing the left shoulder of the mafioso.
“
Per piacere
! Please, I beg you!”
“My dorsal-finned friend down there is hungry. Why should I deny him?”
“You … you have heard of a valley …?” the killer choked, searching for words, obviously, in panic, recalling other words he had heard before. “From far away, across the sea!”
“I’ve heard of the Baaka Valley,” said Tyrell in a monotone. “It’s across the Mediterranean. So?”
“That’s where the orders come from, signore.”
“Who’s the relay? Who gave you those orders?”
“They come from Miami, what else can I tell you? I don’t know the
capi
!”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know, signore.”
“
Bajaratt
!” roared Hawthorne, seeing what he wanted to see in the capo’s wide eyes. “It is Bajaratt, isn’t it?”
“
Sì, sì
, I have heard the name. Nothing more.”
“From the Baaka?”
“Please, signore! I am merely a
soldato
, what do you want from me?”
“How did you find me? Did you follow a woman named Dominique Montaigne?”
“
Non capisco
, I do not know that name.”
“Liar!” Again Tyrell fired the AK-47, but no longer penetrating the capo’s shoulder, experience dictating his strategy with a terrified underling.
“I
swear
!” screamed the
capo subordinate
. “Others, also, have been looking for you.”
“Because they know I’m looking for this Bajaratt.”
“Whatever leads to you leads to you, signore.”
“Apparently it does,” said Tye, turning the boat
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