Page 39 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
The coastline around the docks isn’t as picturesque, lacking in the golden beaches and famous Mediterranean turquoise seas. A constant film of diesel from the regular shipping tankers taints the waters. It means tourists aren’t commonplace here, and that makes it harder for Una and me to blend in. As I walk down the sidewalk, I notice a few locals staring. I round a corner and unlock the hired car parked between two buildings, so close that I can barely open the door wide enough to climb in. The tiny vehicle is barely bigger than one of Dante’s ride-on ones. As soon as I sit on the cheap cloth seats, I can feel the sweat trickling down my back.
I start the engine and press the air conditioning button, but it’s about as much use as a small rodent wheezing on me. A few moments later, Una slides into the passenger seat. She’s wearing a sundress, and her hair falls loose down her back. It’s…not her usual look.
“We need to go. We’re drawing attention from the locals.”
She eyes me up and down before she snorts. “I don’t think it’s you so much as that shirt that’s drawing attention.” She shakes her head. “I cannot believe you actually wore that.”
I glance down at the bright-blue Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. “Tommy said I’d blend in with the tourists.”
She laughs again. “You aren’t blending in with anything right now.”
Ignoring her, I start the engine and pull away, heading back to the apartment we’re staying in.
I wait, watching another truck broach the security gate. We’ve been waiting for two hours, and still, no one has touched the three containers that I suspect harbor Bianchi’s shipment. Lorenzo managed to pay off one of the dock managers and got a copy of the shipping roster. There is only one company that collects on the last Thursday of every month. And so, I’m now watching the metal storage units listed for this week’s pick up. Their serial numbers are stamped on the doors, making it almost too easy.
I might be here all night because we don’t know exactly when his drivers pick up, only that they will. After two more hours, finally, a vehicle pulls in, and one of the containers are loaded. Just one. The other two remain with no other transport in sight. Of course, they would move them separately; there’s less chance of losing the entire shipment should they be caught.
Taking out my phone, I call Lorenzo. “Red truck, number 32465.” I hang up and watch the truck pass through the brightly lit gate and out onto the darkened road.
The taillights shrink until they disappear into the night. My job is relatively simple. The hard part is up to Gabriella’s men. Nero wants all of the hands-on interaction to fall on the Sicilians, essentially hiding behind the Riccis. So, Una is out there in the darkness somewhere with Gio. They are to follow the trucks and pick up the bodies before disposing of them. I smile as I picture Una’s face. There’s nothing she hates worse than clean up, especially when it’s not even her kill.
I wait another hour for one truck, and then another. As soon as the second is loaded, I hop up and jog through the building for my car. Once inside the tiny vehicle, I start the engine and gun it through the narrow streets. There’s only one road in and out of the shipping yard. It runs for at least five miles before they can go anywhere else. I just have to catch up. The small engine lets out a high-pitched whine as I bury my right foot in the carpet. I finally meet the main road, and then I sit at the junction and wait. I count to thirty-two in my head, and then I see the lights cut through the darkness, illuminating the road before the eighteen-wheeler rounds the corner.
It passes me, sticking to the main road. I pull out and follow at a reasonable distance. When the brake lights illuminate, I know this is it. The truck slows and finally stops before sitting idle on the road. I pause, remaining a fair distance away. After a few seconds, the vehicle once again starts moving, leaving behind a body. The taillights disappear into the night, and I allow the car to roll forward, casting bright light over the heap sprawled in the road. The engine idles as I get out and approach, my footsteps the only sound in the surrounding darkness. When I reach him, he lets out a groan. Gabriella’s men were to simply disable the drivers by any means necessary, and as fast as possible. Una, Gio, and I are the cleanup. This one looks like he was just tossed from the cab, and I almost feel sorry for him. He’s likely nothing to do with the mafia, simply a driver doing a job. But he’s seen faces and knows too much. I’m a killer, and thoughts such as pity have no place in my world. Weak. I’m becoming weak. Dropping to a crouch, I cradle his head in my arms, and with a swift jerk, snap his neck. The sound of crunching bone permeates through the night, before a long, slow hiss wheezes past his lips. His final breath.
