The Scorpion's Tale (45 page)

Steven moved a few steps closer and placed
his gun against the priest’s head. Both men stared into each
other’s eyes.

“Tell me Scorpion, what does it feel like
knowing your brains will be splattered all over this room as I send
you to hell.”

“If it is God’s will, then it is my will. I
will have peace. That is a pleasure I have never known. Pull the
trigger and do not look back. I have made my peace with God and
have asked you for forgiveness.”

Steven cocked the hammer and let the sound of
the “click” resonate in the Scorpion’s ears. “How can you be so
sure you’ll find peace?” Steven asked. “You may spend an eternity
in hell for all of the innocent people you murdered. All I want to
do is kill you. I want you to agonize over your impending death. I
want you to suffer as you writhe in agony. I want you to suffer as
I have suffered!”

“Oh but Steven, I
have
suffered, more
than you will ever know. I share your hatred of myself. I welcome
death. I fully accept the consequences of my actions. I am already
dead and have been since I held my fiancée’s lifeless body in my
arms. You will be doing me a favor by ending my torment.”

Steven pressed the gun more firmly against
the Scorpion’s temple and leaned closer to his face. “What are your
final words, James?”

The Scorpion looked into Steven’s eyes. “The
last thing I will leave you is the knowledge that only one other
person, besides me and Joaquin, left this island alive. He was
nothing like me. He knew that he did not belong here and that he
had no chance of survival. As with the other boys, he was trained
as an assassin, but he was too good-hearted. When the rivalry and
competition intensified amongst us, he realized that he was
different. While he could kill animals and strangers, he could not
harm those that he considered to be his brothers. Your father had a
conscience. Amazingly, he escaped from this island before I did. We
had no idea that he had survived, until he found us in London. We
became the best of friends and brothers to the end. Like it or not,
I killed my own family.”

Steven recoiled in horror. “I don’t believe
you!”

“It matters not. Everything you need to know
is in the files. You will see for yourself. You have the perfect
combination of all our gifts and talents. Your father would be
proud of you. You are ‘The Chosen One,’ to carry on my deeds and be
a defender of the innocent and the downtrodden. You can administer
justice humanely, without the baggage that your father and I had.
It is your time. You are my successor.”

Steven was frozen. He had pursued the
Scorpion with the dream of watching him die. Now he was handed a
gun and given the blessing of a priest to complete his mission. He
knew he should feel triumphant, yet all he felt was emptiness.

“What if I decide not to give you what you
most desire?” Steven asked.

The Scorpion bore into Steven’s eyes with a
cold stare that sent a chill through him. “You have no choice. We
are still playing our game and the game will not end until one of
us is dead.” He removed a gun hidden under his vestment. “If you
choose to walk away, I will kill you.”

The Scorpion smiled at Steven with a peaceful
expression on his face. “I grant you dispensation for all past and
future sins as my last act on Earth, Steven. I pray that someday
you learn to forgive yourself. I only request the time to make an
act of contrition to absolve the sins I have committed today.”

Father Mateuse, the Scorpion, began to pray:
“My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended…”

Steven fired a single shot. “Go to Hell!”

It was a beautiful morning in the outskirts
of Misahualli, fifteen miles southwest of Tena. The sky was clear
blue and the sunlight magically transformed the landscape, as the
sun rose higher in the sky. Several natives were working a huge
field cleared for planting. Officials were stationed at various
locations inspecting equipment and completing the installation of a
state-of-the-art irrigation system. Several pumping units were
being fine-tuned and lubricated by the local mechanics, hired to
maintain them.

Two men hovered over one of the pumping
units, waiting.

“Are we ready to test the system?” the first
man asked, as he squatted to check the controls on the pump.

“I believe we’re ready,” the other man
replied.

The man spoke into his walkie-talkie to the
pump operators. “Start all units on my signal. I’m counting down
from five. Let’s roll. Five-Four-Three-Two-One-GO!”

The engine turned over effortlessly and the
droning of pumps filled the air. High-pressure water shot from the
impact sprinklers hundreds of feet into the sky, while a second
system of smaller sprinklers concentrated on areas within
designated planting rows.

The two men sat back and marveled at the
magnificence of the irrigation capabilities.

“What do you think, Father?”

Father Miguel De La Sombra silently stroked
his closely cropped beard as his jade watch and Vatican ring
glistened in the sun. “It’s simply beautiful. I’m only sorry Father
Mateuse wasn’t here to see this; he practically finished this
project by himself. This will mean so much to our people.”

“It is a Godsend,” came a voice from behind
them.

Both men turned to watch a third man approach
slowly, clothed in a hooded brown monk’s robe, and wielding a large
walking stick. Father Miguel beamed at him. “I’m so glad you could
make it to the field to see this. What do you think?”

The man slowly scanned the field and nodded
his hooded head in approval. “It’s a sign of the beginnings of a
new life.”

“Please excuse my poor manners,” Father
Miguel said, turning back to his general contractor. “Frank, this
is my dear friend and colleague, Brother Michael. Brother, this is
Frank Ambrose.”

Both men shook hands. “You’ve done great work
here Frank,” the monk said.

“Thank you, Father.”

The monk lowered his hood and Detective
Michael Johnston smiled at Frank. “Please call me Brother.”

“Well, I’m sure you both have more important
things to do,” Frank said. “I’m going to stick around and conduct
further testing on the system. Brother, it was nice meeting you.
Father, I will speak with you soon.”

When Frank was out of earshot, Detective
Johnston turned toward the priest. “Thank you for saving my life. I
will always be grateful to you.”

“It was the least I could do,” Steven
replied.

“You look very comfortable in your robe and
collar. Tell me, is that going to be a new look for you?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to become a killer like the
Scorpion?”

“I haven’t thought everything through, yet.
This may become complicated.”

“So what happens now?”

“I have to make one last trip to the island
to tie up all the loose ends. I want you to think about coming with
me. But let’s take a walk so I can show you the new chapel, built
with the late Father Mateuse’s blood money. I guess you can say I
have laundered out the stains with good works.”

They took the short walk in silence until
they reached a fairly large edifice. Above the entrance, in Spanish
were the words: “Michael, the Archangel.”

“I hope this isn’t in my honor,” the
detective blushed.

“I wish I could say it was,” Steven said.
“Come. I want to show you something inside.”

As they walked in silence, Steven directed
the detective to a large sculpture of Guido Reni’s famous painting
of Archangel Michael. Michael, the essence of divine purity and
beauty, stood over a defeated Satan, a sword in Michael’s right
hand poised to pierce his black heart, while clutching the chains
in his left hand that bound the personification of evil. His foot
pressed down on Satan’s head, a symbol of the complete surrender of
evil personified. One significant change was made in the sculpture
that was not depicted in the original masterpiece. St. Michael’s
face was that of Father Mateuse, and the visage of Satan, powerless
under the angel’s foot, was the only known likeness of the
Scorpion.

If you enjoyed “The Scorpion’s Tale”, take a
peek at the prologue to the sequel: “The Scorpion’s Shadow”. It’s
coming soon!

PROLOGUE

Bebe Mulata entered Saint Patrick’s
Cathedral, shoulders hunched, worried about the mission of revenge
Steven Capresi had embarked on not two hours earlier. Bebe had been
ecstatic to see Steven at Peter Lugers after so many years. Steven
was one of a handful of people who had never mocked him or made him
feel stupid. To the contrary, Steven’s Golden Gloves boxing skills
had helped defend Bebe during his gawky teenage years. Bebe no
longer needed a bodyguard as he had grown to giant stature. But, he
never forgot Steven’s kindness and he never would.

With lumberjack hands, Bebe lit a candle at
the station of Saint Joseph for his dead parents. He then proceeded
to the front pew and knelt in prayer. A priest approached and sat
next to him, remaining silent until Bebe had crossed himself and
sat back in the pew. Bebe moved closer to the priest and embraced
him. The priest patted him on his huge shoulder.

“How are you, Bebe?”

Bebe shrugged. “Not so good. How about you,
Joey?”

Bebe’s brother Joseph was the eldest of five
children. He had recently been appointed by the Pope to Saint
Patrick’s, which significantly elevated his standing in the clergy.
He had always been particularly close to his youngest brother,
whose emotional scars of the past made Bebe a child in his
brother’s eyes, even though Father Joe was fully aware of Bebe’s
chosen profession.

“I’m fine, Bebe. Have you done your weekly
confession?” The priest constantly worried that his baby brother
would die with a mortal sin stained upon his soul. He made Bebe
promise to receive the sacraments weekly to increase his chance of
dying sanctified grace.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Bebe, you promised.”

“I don’t want confession today. I just wanna
talk.”

“What’s troubling you?”

Bebe stretched his neck from side to side and
sank further into the pew. “Tonight I had dinner with Alberto and
Nick. Steven Capresi joined us.”

“I’m so saddened by his tragedy. I always
liked Steven. He was very good to you.” He paused, adding, “If you
see him again, please send my condolences.”

Bebe nodded. “I’m worried about him.”

“Why?”

“Steven is going after his wife’s killer.
Alberto sent him to Chicago to visit Charlie P., as a lead to some
guy named the Scorpion. He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“The Scorpion?” Father Joe repeated.

“Yeah. The Scorpion’s the pro who murdered
Steven’s family. Even Alberto fears him. But, he allows Steven to
try and find him. He’s even bankrolling his search. It’s wrong, but
I’d never disagree with my boss.”

“How certain is Alberto that the Scorpion is
the killer?”

“Alberto is positive.”

Father Joe rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
“You did well to tell me Bebe. I too, am worried. I will pray for
Steven. That’s all we can do. Do not worry about this any longer.
It was never in your hands. It is, and will always be, in
God’s.”

Bebe grasped his brother’s hand and kissed
his ring finger. “Thank you, Joey. I feel better getting this off
my chest.”

The men stood and embraced. “Don’t forget
dinner next Friday,” Father Joe said.

Bebe smiled. “I won’t.”

Father Joe watched his little brother exit
the cathedral. He then walked briskly to his office, locked the
door and unlocked an ornate metal box decorated in silver and gold
with the inscription ‘CPH’. He withdrew a phone he had never used
before.

Father Joe dialed the long distance number,
which was answered on the first ring.

“Father, may I have your name and code
number?” asked a man speaking in Latin, who was cross-referencing
the name assigned to the priest’s phone.

“Father Joseph Muleta, CPH 473,” Father Joe
responded, also in Latin.

“Please proceed. We are on a secure
line.”

“I just spoke with my brother who mentioned
the Scorpion.”

There was a heavy silence at the other end of
the line. “What about the Scorpion?” the man asked.

“My brother confirmed that the Scorpion
recently killed the wife and daughter of one of his friends. He
told me that his friend has a concrete lead to the Scorpion and
intends to kill him.”

“I see. And what is the name of your
brother’s friend?”

“Steven Capresi.”

“C…a….p….r….e….s….i?”

“Correct.”

“Is there any other information?”

“Steven is flying to Chicago to meet a Carlo
Pontedor who has information regarding the Scorpion’s
whereabouts.”

“P…o…n…t…e…d…o…r?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know when Capresi is leaving for
Chicago?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Thank you very much, Father. As stated in
your vows, discuss this with no one. Especially your brother. We
will take it from here.”

-------------------

A few hours after Father Joe’s transatlantic
call, Alessandra Morretti was on a Vatican Learjet from Rome to
Chicago along with her team, consisting of her twin sister
Valentina and their close friends Bianca Palmari and Paola Lunesa.
Alessandra was operating on the few pieces of information given to
her: the names of Carlo Pontedor and Steven Capresi, and the
possibility of an imminent meeting between the two somewhere in
Chicago, pertaining to the Scorpion. Armed with advanced hardware
that rivaled Air force One, the team had amassed a dossier on both
men, complete with photographs. They also had Capresi’s confirmed
reservation at the Chicago Hilton. Capresi’s corresponding flight
itinerary from New York to Chicago indicated that her team would
have less than one hour to set up an electronic surveillance net
before he checked into his room. The team had discovered that Mr.
Pontedor had already reserved a particular room for Capresi and
they were able to reserve the adjacent rooms. Within five minutes
of checking in, they entered his room, placing listening devices
throughout the room, including the phones.