Author: Koslov

Raphael smiled as he entered Massimo Ambrosini’s home. It was lavish; but he was an enemy here. Not that Massimo could afford enemies anymore. Most of his crew was gone and he was living under constant threat of someone else finishing the job that Nemesis had started.

It was a poorly kept secret that the diSantiago family had Mafia ties (but every powerful family in Hudson City was assumed to have mafia ties). The well-kept secret was that those ties were to the Morelli family. But Santoro knew where most of the bodies in the City were buried. His knowledge had made him the consigliore to the Torccone family; his knowledge made him dangerous; and it made him scared for his life.

“Welcome to my home.” He said to Raphael, “What can I do for you?”

Raphael smiled and genuflected to the old man; they made small talk for a few minutes before Raphael felt he could get to his question. “You know about this new Conquistador team diSantiago is putting together?”

Massimo nodded.

“Well, I have learned the name of the leader and it was not who I expected it to be.” Raphael said. “In two weeks, they will name Nemesis its leader.”

Massimo’s eyes narrowed and he gripped the wooden arm of his chair until his knuckles turned white. “Nemesis ... I want him dead.”

Raphael nodded, “I understand; but right now, that’s not possible. That’s something you’re going to need to get used to.” Raphael’s eyes were hard. “But, maybe we can corrupt him.”

A slow smile formed on the old man’s face. What better revenge than to turn this man to his ends. He brought himself up, there would be no doubt that Raphael would own him. But, still ... the man who put his people in jail and ruined him in this city would become a whore to the criminals he fought. That was still revenge.

“What ... what do you need from me?” Santoro asked, eager to hear what Raphael had in mind. “Money?” He said hopefully.

Raphael nodded his head, No. “I need you to tell me exactly what Nemesis did to your family.” Raphael answered. Taking money from the old man put him too involved in this.

The old man told his story to Raphael; the young man sat and listened. Nemesis was dangerous.

****

It wasn’t that hard to find Nemesis’ path. He knew what information the vigilante had taken from Massimo’s men; and so he ran down the leads himself. But, he always seemed a step behind the other man.

Nemesis seemed to be a surgeon. Rarely attacking superior numbers, rarely attacking places where he could be easily boxed in ... when he moved, he moved smartly.

Raphael walked into the offices of Meyers, Henderson and King on the 40th floor of “B” Tower in the HarpCorp Towers complex. He set his watch for 4 minutes. It would take that long for the police to arrive here, and he wanted to be gone before they showed up.

Tonight, about 10 minutes ago, Nicholas King, noted mob lawyer and the man who helped to set up one of the Torccone family’s money laundering operations, had been turned into the Hudson City office of the FBI. He was wrapped up in a bow along with three hundred pages of information about the man’s crimes. All courtesy of Nemesis.

The security chief for the firm explained that King had been taken from his office; out the window without anyone ever knowing anything. Raphael looked out the open window and gave a low whistle. That’s a long-ass climb with a lard-ass like King. He thought. He did a quick inventory of King’s office. There was $70,000 in the opened safe; only the papers were missing.

There was a nickel-plated browning 9mm in the second drawer along with his passport. Nothing else seemed out of place or missing.

What kind of idiot leaves 70 large in cash? Raphael thought, thinking better of taking it himself.

Time’s up. Raphael reminded himself, he leapt from the window and escaped down the side of the building, using the shadows to conceal his climb. If cash didn’t motivate the guy, what did?

****

The scent of Cashmere Mist filled his hotel room along with the sounds of a woman sleeping. Raphael sat on the edge of his bed, and fought the beginning effects of a hangover. He walked to the large window; they had been too into each other, or too drunk to close the drapes. Raphael looked out at the night sky. Despite the beautiful woman in his bed, Raphael began to think about how to catch Nemesis.

He wasn’t a man who could be bought; he wasn’t even a man who seemed to like money. Certainly, there were other weaknesses: women, boys, power, love, hate. However honest he was, Nemesis was just a man and all men have weaknesses.

Angelo was going to demand results from him. Having examined Nemesis, Raphael understood just why the hero that scared Angelo so much. He was honesty; headstrong; and without control. Angelo had always hated people like that. ‘You hate what you fear and you fear what you cannot understand.’ He heard his father’s voice say to him.

Raphael caught his reflection in the window. “Fuck you, old man.” He said to his father as well as himself. “Fuck Angelo too.” He found himself more than a little unlikeable right now. But, in that, he found a plan. If he could not find a weakness, perhaps he could create one. Raphael smiled at that. “Fuck you, Nemesis.”

****

“Tell me about Nemesis.” Angelo asked.

Raphael frowned, he had been trying to get something real on his new team leader now for a couple of weeks. “He’s a good man.” Raphael said finally. “He’s not given to the common weaknesses: money, women, power. He’s honest.”

“But, he’s still just a man, yes?” Angelo asked impatiently. “I am paying for you to find something on him. Please don’t tell me you have disappointed me again.”

Raphael fought the urge to slam his uncle through the office wall. Truthfully, he had nothing on Nemesis; nothing real. “I have something on him.” Raphael said flatly. He placed the black, metal briefcase on the desk and slid it across to Angelo.

The older man smiled, “You always surprise.” He complimented. “My people tell me you have had no success with him.”

So, Angelo had been checking up on him; good to know. “You’re people don’t know all my tricks.” Raphael said. “If that’s all?” He prepared to stand.

“No.” The older man said happily, “Have a good evening.”

It was a smile that Raphael had seen before. ‘No matter what, don’t let him drag you back in.’ He could hear Javier’s voice in his head warn. At this very moment, that smile, he knew exactly what Javi meant. “Good evening.”

Raphael sat in his car and began to think. He knew more about Nemesis than he had let on. For one thing, he was pretty sure he knew who Nemesis was. He felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he sped away from Angelo’s office.

Early in the Hudson City morning, Raphael drove past Pop’s place and watched as the last of them left. He looked down and read the dossiers on the ex-cops as they exited. All had been reputed to be “good cops” before they had “gone bad”. In this City, that probably meant that they really were straight. He watched from three blocks up, then drove away. He still felt uneasy about what he had done tonight.

Everything he had done left a sour taste in his mouth. He had failed to get anything on the vigilante. The case Angelo had was filled with lies and falsehoods. He had nothing! He slammed his hand into the wheel. He was angry that the man had been so straight. Nemesis’ heroism and honesty pissed him off, but for reasons he was not able to put his finger on.

He also found Angelo’s desire to gain leverage over the hero ... distasteful? Could that be right? He drove back to his place.

Raphael sat at his computer and began to look at the files again. He had hours of footage of Nemesis fighting and dealing with criminals. His fighting style was good, practiced; Raphael began to wonder who might win if the two squared off. He found himself with a growing respect for Nemesis; but it was more than merely his prowess. There was something in him that was noble, heroic.

He leaned back in his chair as he realized that the gnawing feeling in his stomach was the realization that he was jealous of Nemesis’ heroism and his honesty. The man had fought the system and hadn’t been bought by it. But, now, though no fault of his own, Nemesis had strings that could be pulled.

Raphael sat up right in his chair, a sick feeling gripping him, “What have I done?”

Sitting alone in his office, Angelo diSantiago took a sip of brandy before opening the briefcase. He had waited until everyone was gone. This information was his and his alone, he smiled as he looked into the case. It had very little: a H&K .45 pistol with silencer, a partially used box of hybrid-frangible ammunition, 10 simple black cards with a blue crescent moon on each of them, and hair and fiber evidence in separate plastic bags.

He laughed. “Oh, Raphael, you wonderful bastard ... I own you both.”

File Closed