Ch.150Act 2: Ch.10 – Long Live the King (2)

The old man stared at me intently as if I were a movie screen. He said nothing and showed no expression. His eyes burned quietly, but nothing could be read from them. It resembled a death mask. Even the dead know how to smile, after all.

But he was still a living person. The violent cough pounding his chest proved that he was still breathing. For a brief moment, concern flashed across the face of the subordinate standing beside him. A middle-aged man handed him a hip flask.

Giovanni opened the cap with trembling hands and took a swig. A peculiar, sharp aroma spread—something like a mixture of licorice, mint, and pepper.

“Surprising. I didn’t expect you to drink Sambuca. I thought you’d prefer something more refined.”

“It’s my homeland’s traditional liquor.”

“Didn’t you leave because you hated your homeland?”

“Like, dislike—those are luxurious concerns. Don’t you agree, Crayfield? Back then, I had no such choices. The police from the mainland weren’t kind to island folk like me from Sicily. They’d pierce your body with either bullets or their cocks. Some, like the newlywed woman next door, suffered both. All at the hands of the police who claimed to uphold law and justice. So that day, my comrades and I became the law and justice ourselves.”

There was no emotion in Giovanni’s words. I took out the trash this morning. The walk here was a bit congested. I killed a policeman who raped and murdered my neighbor. All these things were equal to him. But Crayfield was a man who could discern even the weight of a feather if necessary.

“So you’re offering a consolation drink to bygone days? That happened in your homeland. It has nothing to do with America or Pollard Island. Yet you behaved exactly the same way here. Arson. Kidnapping. Torture. Murder. Crime.”

“American police weren’t much different from the Italians when it came to dealing with Italians. They wouldn’t listen to words. I had to show them I had the power to gather people, to draw out the mayor if necessary, before they would finally understand.”

“No one gave you that right.”

“So I had to seize it myself.”

“The right to sacrifice even your eldest son if necessary?”

“You must not have listened to the priest, or rather, the pastor. Abraham offered his son to prove his faith to God.”

“You’re the one who didn’t finish the story, Giovanni. That God refused the offering in the end. Due to simple change of heart.”

Surprisingly, Giovanni chuckled with a phlegmy laugh.

“‘Even God did not listen to the words of the unfortunate Electra…’ If I could have, I would have become God myself, Crayfield.”

Cough. COUGH! Giovanni broke into a more violent fit of coughing. It was so intense that tears welled in his eyes. The old man pulled out a worn-out handkerchief from his breast pocket. It was a shabby thing with visible mending marks, decorated with faded embroidery.

“Crayfield. Quit smoking.”

Crayfield let out a “Ha!” and deliberately lit a Camel.

“It’s fine when your limbs are strong and your teeth are sharp. But when you age, health is a debt you must repay with interest.”

“If someone else had said that, I would have ignored it.”

Crayfield exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“But know this. The reason I started smoking was because of what happened at your old house.”

Giovanni was, so to speak, a flint-like type of person. If the other party remained calm, he would too, but if challenged, he would strike back without retreating, creating sparks. Life returned to the old man’s body.

“The ritual was imperfect. Isaiah Black, the former mayor, was furious. He said we had confused the gods. One well-raised lamb per generation. If offered properly, they would have been satisfied, but if not offered at all, they would have punished us. What we did was half—we only offered half, he said.”

The old man’s voice lowered.

“And the ritual was ruined because of you, Crayfield.”

“I didn’t do it because I wanted to. But I didn’t do it unwillingly either. As you said, I had no choice. That day, I should have shot all those damn priests. But I couldn’t.”

Crayfield took a rough drag from his Camel.

“So. Giovanni Savio. What do you want to say? I doubt you came just to dig up old memories.”

“My message is simple, John Crayfield. ‘Do. Not. Interfere.'”

“With what?”

“With the unfinished ritual. It’s time to complete the circle we left half-drawn. These are times of chaos, moments of opportunity. The Savio must make a greater leap. You once crushed a moment when we could have grown larger. My message is both verdict and execution, John Crayfield.”

Crayfield’s hand froze. Only cigarette smoke flowed thinly. For a brief moment, his eyes met mine. We realized the meaning of this mad old man’s words almost simultaneously.

Giovanni had come to kill us both.

The world is shrouded in fog. Gunshots can be heard everywhere. People are reluctant to go out. There is nothing to prevent the death of a private detective with many enemies and his assistant.

I have no gun. My revolver is on Crayfield’s desk, with its drum empty. Only Crayfield’s gun is loaded, but it’s at a distance that requires reaching for it. So, just 5 seconds. No, I need to buy even 3 seconds.

The only thing I can use as a weapon is the sharp pen in my inner pocket.

I deliberately coughed loudly. I had to pretend not to know. Giovanni would draw his gun when we were off guard. Slowly, very slowly, I reached into my inner pocket as if taking out a handkerchief.

Crayfield saw my movement. With an exaggerated motion, he jumped up and slammed his desk.

“Insane talk! You’re crazy. Completely insane! Sacrificing your child to receive the blessing of a mad god and expand your power?”

“If a seed does not fall to the ground and die, how can it bear fruit? Death comes to everyone, Crayfield. There is no truce. If death cannot be avoided, the remaining question is how to make it valuable. And that is the right and duty of the living.”

The bodyguards’ eyes hardened. They all looked at Crayfield. I could see their arms tensing. Dangerous. Crayfield must not reach out. So I asked:

“Who did you choose?”

My voice had a metallic edge. I admit it. I was tense. Giovanni’s eyes turned to me. The bodyguards were alternating their gaze between me and Crayfield.

“Daughter or son. Which one did you choose?”

“I chose my son.”

He sounded like someone answering which apple tasted better. And that wasn’t the end of it.

“A woman can only bear one child a year. A man can father as many as he wants. Aurora grew stronger and bigger than her brother’s share. She expanded her power and proved herself by driving out the old men. She survived the war, survived the mafia conflicts, and even overcame the disaster that threatened Pollard.”

I tried not to breathe. Tried not to tense up. Tried not to tremble. Tried not to get angry. But Giovanni was light. His casual words cut through me.

“An excellent sacrifice.”

My arm led me. Before I could blink, the pen in my hand stabbed Giovanni’s neck. As if he had anticipated it, the Don pushed me away slightly. But I ducked before he could hit my solar plexus. Two bodyguards raised their guns. Guns with handkerchiefs tightly wrapped around the barrels as makeshift silencers. But,

“Argh!”

One bodyguard dropped his gun. He was hit by an ashtray thrown by Crayfield. Before the other one could take position, Crayfield quickly aimed his revolver. I pinned down Giovanni’s wrist and forcibly pushed the pen toward the blood vessel in his neck.

Giovanni was smiling with satisfaction.

“Yes. That’s it.” He didn’t seem to mind the blood flowing from his neck. I found him disgusting. Unbearably disgusting.

“If you’re so hungry for seeds, offer your own balls.”

Giovanni laughed heartily, even though my joke wasn’t funny at all.

“My seed pouch dried up long ago, young friend. Even a cruel god has discerning eyes. Isn’t that right?”

“The world’s gone mad.” Crayfield cursed, having secured the bodyguards’ guns. With a mafia gun in his left hand and his own in his right, he aimed at the thugs.

“No. The world has always been like this, Crayfield. You just didn’t want to admit it. Isn’t that right?”

Giovanni chuckled. Now his laughter sounded like that of a demon. The grating sound of metal in a storm.

“Bullshit.”

I must not let my hand tremble. I repeated to myself.

“How tragic. Tragic indeed. Like a play by Euripides. Tonight’s performance, I’m really looking forward to it. It’s my daughter’s taste, but truly excellent. I wonder how she brought such a wonderful performance. Paris! New London! Berlin! From Broadway to Pollard! I suppose she takes after her mother.”

“Damn it!”

The bodyguard’s movement was suspicious. He might have another gun. Back pocket. Or ankle. Giovanni was taunting me. He now seemed to be singing.

“Everyone has their own path. And then the deus ex machina descends. From the sky above, or rises from the abyss below, you go this way, you go that way. Ah, ha, ha, ha! Who judges me? Only God! Only God! Will punish me. Not your petty laws and rules, but only the god of the abyss!”

Old crow, withered branch that’s dead but not broken, father with his children’s blood on his hands! Giovanni’s eyes turn to me. I want to gouge those eyes out!

“It’s love! It’s love! ‘Love kills people. If you don’t know love, no one dies.’ Tell me. Do you love my daughter? Do you love her enough to kill? If you could save my daughter by killing someone unrelated to you, would you do it? I did. I accomplished it! So show me. Show me that you are like me!”

The answer came from an unexpected place. From the half-open office entrance.

“‘…when I lie down, something weighs upon me.'”

And then a gun appeared. A black and blue gleaming automatic pistol. Followed by bare feet. The reason we hadn’t heard footsteps on the landing was because she had taken off her shoes and come up barefoot.

“‘It’s neither language nor pain. It’s nothing. But my soul screams for death and hanging out of fear of it.'”

Her hair, which used to barely cover her shoulders, was cut short. Not even long enough to frame her jaw. She had removed her glasses, and her makeup was light. But her eyes showed firm resolve and fierce determination. It was Federal Security Bureau Special Agent Catherine Scully.

“‘I am alive. Though not a patient, I crumble alive and dream.'”

Scully’s gun pointed at Giovanni.

“Federal Security Bureau Special Agent Catherine Scully. Everyone lower your weapons and step back. FSB agents have surrounded this building. Crayfield. Assistant. You too.”

I stepped back. My hand was stained with Giovanni’s blood. The bodyguards staggered to their feet. Crayfield did not lower his gun.

“Ah…” Giovanni covered the wound on his neck with his handkerchief. The shabby handkerchief became soaked with blood.

“Are you going to arrest me, miss? On what charges?”

“For assault, right now. I can put you in a holding cell as a caught-in-the-act criminal, if not prison. Giovanni. I wasn’t intentionally listening, but what I heard was quite something. But this is a land of reason, common sense, and law. God won’t judge you. The court will deal with you.”

“The goddess Athena has arrived! An English-speaking Athena!” Giovanni laughed maniacally, though his voice had diminished due to the neck wound.

“Fine. Good. Good. The performance is tonight. Goddess of law and justice, please tell me. Please, the next verse. Then I shall withdraw. Share some warmth with this poor man who has nothing, before he goes to the dew of the courtroom.”

The situation was over. But Giovanni was still excited. He must be getting old. For some reason, Catherine Scully seemed conflicted. Perhaps she was thinking of her own elderly father.

“‘When the designated sacrifice falls under the axe, it will dream no more. Woman, and man!'”

“Bravo, bravo!” The old man stood up. He leaned on his cane as if nothing had happened. With his cane, he struck his two thugs violently.

“Get up, get up! ‘When the father wears rags, the child becomes blind and pretends not to see, but when he carries a purse, the child becomes filial, I shall rule with blind obedience!'”

The thugs hurriedly got up. They didn’t even think about picking up the dropped guns. Giovanni’s laughter continued far, far away, on and on.