Devotion

02: The Blindfolded Man

Marcello thought his eye lids were glued together. He couldn’t open his damned eyes completely. He had a splitting headache. He blinked. He blinked again. ‘God, the light, it hurts’, he thought. A human figure in white clothing appeared. ‘Am I in heaven? Jesus! Am I dead?’ the thought shocked him. Marcello sprung up and sat up right. He was on the floor. He realized he was in his underwear. ‘Why am I on the floor almost naked, where am I?’ he was bewildered and felt icky and sticky. Yuck! Vomit! He jumped, who the f**k vomited around him? He looked up at the person who held a tray with a cup, one small bottle and an injection, invisible to Marcellos’ eye level.

“Who are you?” Marcello asked groggily, not recognizing him.

“He’s your butler at the Manhattan apartment, Sir”, a deep baritone voice replied.

Marcello almost twisted his neck trying to crane it towards the voice.

A black man in a full suit stood behind, towering Marcello, he was covering his bald head with a hat to match his dark suit.

He looked like a bloody undertaker at a funeral parlor.

“And who the f**k are you?” he asked not hiding his remorse.

“I’m working for your father Sir; you may not like what would take place in a few minutes, Sir”.

“Why the f**k is that?” Marcello couldn’t say another word; the man in the white clothing held his arm and injected something in to him.

He passed out, again.

“Stanley, put him in the bathroom … clean him good … put some clothes on him … I need to go check on the patient” said the black man in a semi commanding voice.

“Okay Luis, don’t worry about our young master … he will wake up in the morning like a wee baby”, said the Scottish butler.

“That’s the whole problem … he is anyway a wee baby … I need him to grow up … someone almost died tonight”, Luis growled.

“Oh c’mon Luis … these things happen … he is 23 and young … he needs to enjoy his life at this age … there’s nothing wrong in that … give another two or three months … if nothing changes … get him married to a good woman … he will come around … our boss did”, chuckled Stanley.

“It’s not funny you i***t … you haven’t seen half the things he does … there is a young man fighting for his life at the hospital … I can’t say any of this to his parents … damn … it’s my duty to keep him away from s**t … but he is like a magnet for trouble … it follows wherever he goes … he is a disgrace to his grandmother … sometimes I wish that our boss takes his sons’ responsibility off my shoulders”, Luis barked at Stanley, rubbing his forehead.

“Oh, come, come … who is there better than you? To make him clean his act, eh? … You practically raised our young master, and that’s a fact”, said the butler.

“That’s the only reason why I am not whipping his ass tonight”, Luis retorted.

Stanley hid his smile, bending down to pull Marcello up. He was careful not to stir Luis’ anger anymore, ‘yeah, right, the day Luis whips our young masters’ arse will be the day I will impale my Scottish arse on a cactus, never happening”, he thought to himself, quietly chuckling.

*****************************************************************

It was past 12.30 when Luis finally returned to the hospital to check on the young man with the head injury. Earlier the doctors in the emergency had performed an urgent brain surgery on him. Internal bleeding, they said. Obviously, after such a blow to his head, thought Luis. Now the young man is almost in comatose.

Shit. What a mess.

He sat and waited outside the emergency area, reminiscing, and going through the days’ activities.

He recalled how it all started after the call in the afternoon. 

His phone buzzed; it was around one o’ clock in the afternoon and he was going through some invoices.

“Boss…” he answered his mobile after a single ring. He always does.

“Luis, go check where Marcello is … he is not answering the damned phone … his mama is worried … Madam said he was drinking since morning … must be another insufferable breakup”, Luis couldn’t see his boss rolling his eyes on the other side.

“Okay sir, but who will be with you? I am not sure how the day will go if he has been drinking from morning”.

“I will take care of matters with Luigi … and by the way, do not interrupt me for anything after three, unless someone is dying” his boss hung up the phone.

He knew his boss meant it. He is very busy these days.

It has been a year now; his boss was going through one problem after another.

Romanos. Bastards! ‘Young master‘s right, there has to be a mole inside the company’, thought Luis.

But Marcello picked and accused an innocent, and now he is fighting for his life, damn. 

*********************************************************************************

Marcello Lombardi; was the youngest son of Marco Lombardi and Sofia Lombardi.

He is the heir to the Lombardi Empire.

Six feet tall, dark haired, icy blue eyes, tanned skin, proportionate body; one might say it’s ‘the perfect combination’ and of course people mistook him for a model.

Money, good looks and power, he had it all. He knew his appeal.

He had two elder sisters; Stella and Siena, both were married.

Stella lived in a mansion in Lombardy, Italy, where her family roots began. She was married to the only son of a hotel tycoon. 

Sienna married the middle son of a famous wine merchant. Rich in their own right, her father in law had several chateaux around France and acres of vineyards. She moved to live with her in laws in Lyon, France.

All three Lombardi children had very distinct qualities yet one thing in common.

They were spoilt.

The family matriarch Bianca Lombardi believed it was her late husbands’ fault.

Stefano Landini Lombardi, never believed in disciplining his only son Marco, and Marco never disciplined his own.

The curse of the Lombardi wives!

*********************************************************************************************

The day began with a bang.

Marcello hardly lived at his family mansion ‘Arco Della L’Amore (Arch of Love)’, in Monticello, suburbs of New York. He preferred the luxury apartment he owned in his fathers’ property called ‘The Vitre’ on the 95th street, Upper East Side of New York. 

He would hands - down choose the apartment to spend the night after a heavy boozing sprees and late night wild parties downtown. Marcello hated listening to his mother yelling at him with heavy Italian words which he could hardly understand. His Italian was rustic. He is a modern day Italian, not a traditional one.

Marcello Lombardi was on a long call. He was murmuring, cooing and laughing all through. 

Instinct told Stanley that it was a woman of interest on the other side. Surely another airhead! 

They all came with similar physical attributes; all of them were tall, skinny, brown eyed brunettes with little or no boobs. More importantly a lot of them had a British accent. 

All looks, no brains, and the accent. The young master had a type. 

All of a sudden his pitch rose; “Who was that…?” Marcello asked the woman on the phone. 

“No one…? b***h, don’t lie to me … I heard a mans’ voice … you think I am a fool?? Are you two timing me???”, now he was screaming in to the phone.

It took split seconds for him to throw the phone on the floor. 

He was fuming, pulling his hair and snarling like a wounded dog. ‘He must have spent a fortune on this one’, thought Stanley. 

The phone on the floor; rang again. He did not pick up. 

“Stanley…” he screamed.

“Master…?”

“Pour me a double scotch” he barked.

Silence. Stanley just stood there looking at him without flinching.

“What? …What is the f*****g matter with you...? Didn’t you hear what I said?? … Don’t just stand there … pour me the f*****g scotch … NOW”, He screamed.

“Master, I just prepared your favorite breakfast … why don’t you just eat something first … better not consume alcohol empty stomach … please start your breakfast … I will bring the scotch”, said Stanley calmly.

“f**k breakfast … I just need a drink … okay no problem … I will serve myself … I have useless idiots around me” huffed Marcello.

It was like a drinking marathon, one glass emptied. The second one went through. Third and fourth glasses followed. Marcello emptied one whole bottle of ‘Ballantines’ within half an hour. As if the effect wasn’t enough for him, he reached the counter, pulled a “Smirnoff” and opened the bottle.

The phone rang again.

“Don’t pick up” he tried to command, but the words didn’t come straight.

Stanley ignored him and picked up the phone immediately recognizing the number blinking on the screen.

It was Sofia Lombardi. 

Stanley the Scott believed she was THE most elegant woman to grace the earth. 

Her beauty, intelligence and class, were in a different level. She was a very kind woman too. Sofia Lombardi never treated people differently, especially those who are in a lower level of status. She was generous to a fault and she loved her family with reverence, but if someone crossed the line, one might meet a different Sofia Lombardi and it is guaranteed. 

“Good morning Madam…” Stanley tried to speak as if everything is normal around the apartment.

“Good morning Stanley, can I speak with my son? … Is he up?”

“Madam … master is just waking up … May I ask him to return your call once he freshened up?”

“Stanley… who is it? … Tell the b***h to f**k off” Marcello spoke in slurred yet loud voice.

Stanley wished he would shut up. Stanley wished Madam Sofia called at a different time. Stanley wished Luis was here to manage the situation. 

Stanley wished a lot of things.

“Stanley … he’s there isn’t he? … What is he saying? … Why aren’t you putting him on the line??” asked Sofia in a stern voice.

“Madam, master is a bit drunk at the moment”, Stanley blurted out at last.

“A bit drunk you say? … Ten thirty in the morning?? … What’s going on Stanley??? … Never mind it … give him the phone please”, Sofia was livid.

“Hullooo ... mm...mother” Marcello spoke dragging his words.

Sofia spoke to her son full three minutes, rather yelled in Italian and it was loud enough. Stanley could hear her through the phone just by standing next to Marcello.

Surely she said a lot in a very short time and the call ended abruptly; the next thing Stanley heard was Marcello snoring. Stanley realized Marcello didn’t hear half the things his mother yelled at him.

Stanley let Marcello doze off on the expensive white leather couch where he has already spilled scotch.

He went about with his chores. One hour later the door bell rang.   

‘Nice, boss must have sent Luis; I won’t hear the end of it now’, thought Stanley.

************************************************************************************

The tall, young burly stranger has been sitting too close to his young master and was talking to him non-stop in a hushed voice. Stanley couldn’t figure how much Marcello understood from what being said.

In his dazed status? Surely not much.

He has never seen the guy before. ‘Who the hell is he?’ wondered Stanley. 

He never eavesdropped on his young masters’ conversations with his buddies or women. But for Stanley, this guy posed a threat. He didn’t like him. He had a bad feeling. 

Stanley hid behind the wall separating the foyer and the living room and tried to listen to their conversation.

‘So sir, we must pick him tonight”, the stranger said.

“Fine, but why exactly are we picking him?” Marcello asked confused.

“Oh Jesus, Sir, weren’t you listening to what I have been relaying this whole time?” the stranger asked perplexed.

Marcello paused. “Oh well, I must have missed a few stuff you said, please repeat”, he said.

“He could be the mole sir, we can interrogate him tonight” the stranger said.

“Mole?? What mole?” Marcello asked yawning.

(In the same breath)

“Forget the mole; let’s have a drink shall we? We must toast … for all the women I thought I loved before”, laughing Marcello stood up.

He swayed a little and walked towards the bar counter and poured two flutes of Champagne. 

“Okay Morris, here’s to the women we loved”, Stanley could hear the glass clink.

A brief pause. 

“Thank you for the Champagne sir, I must go now … please be ready by three, I will come and pick you”.

“Whatever Morris … I need to finish the bottle … if you aren’t staying to share, piss off” said Marcello.

Stanley quickly climbed up half the stairs case, and pretended to descend the stairs, when the stranger crossed the foyer to reach the door, to leave. 

“See ya mate”

Stanley said nothing. 

***********************************************************************************************

Marco Lombardi was in the middle of an important meeting with a couple of government officials, when his private phone rang. He couldn’t have guessed who it was but he knew the call came from his family.

“Marco”, called out a womans’ voice. 

Ah … it was the love of his life, his lovely wife Sofia.

He put the call on hold and transferred it to the portable handset and excused himself out of the board room.

“Ciao mio amore” replied Marco. 

“Did you speak to your son?” Sofia sounded displeased. 

When his wife addressed their son as ‘your’ son, nothing good has ever followed after that.

“Why do you ask mio amore? … He should be at his apartment after the Versace party last night … maybe he is still sleeping … poor boy … parties are exhausting isn’t it my love”, it wasn’t a real question.

“He must be still sleeping? It’s past midday, did you talk to him today?” asked Sofia through gritted teeth.

“No, I didn’t have the time mio amore … I was going to talk to him … is there something wrong?”

Marco didn’t need a confirmation to that question, ‘surely the loser has done something to upset his mother, again’, Marco thought to himself tapping on the wall.

“Since when did your son start drinking so early in the morning?” Sofia snapped.

“He was drinking in the morning??” asked Marco with an exaggerated surprise screech in his voice.

When Sofia said nothing, he said “ Okay, okay, I will personally visit him in a few minutes … that boy needs a good thrashing … I am telling you … I am very angry now … you know how it is when I get angry … I beat him good”, line went dead.

Marco dialed Luis' number.

**********************************************************************************************

Luis rang the door bell of ‘The Vitre’ penthouse. He looked at the time, and his watched indicated it was almost three o’clock.

The door was opened and an exhausted looking Stanley appeared in the door way.

“You look like hell”, blurted Luis. “What’s going on? Where is he?” he demanded.

Stanley briefed Luis on the days’ accounts. He informed him about the stranger who visited in the morning and that he returned a while ago to pick Marcello.

“Where did they go’, Luis sounded worried.

“Hmm … where did they go? Oh wait, I just remembered … Master said he was going to the movies first … and then to pick up some random guy who is apparently some sort of a mole … oh c’mon man … do you think he would give me an update on his rendezvous?”, Stanley sounded sarcastic. He was really annoyed.

“Okay okay, I know … you say his name was Morris? … who is this guy? … the name doesn’t ring a bell … where could they be?” Luis was pacing the living room; all of a sudden he stopped in his tracks.

“Stanley, I need to go … stick around the phone … he might call you … or I might call you … if he calls, ask him where he is and let me know immediately … do not alert him that I am on his tail … I think I have an idea what’s going on … I will bring him home”.

Luis opened the door and vanished into the elevator. 

******************************************************************************

When Luis came to check on Marcello, he did not come alone. Luis brought Lorenzo with him. Now he was glad that he did so. He needed his hands and mind free to sort this out fast. Luis handed the keys to Lorenzo and briefed him on the situation. He instructed Lorenzo to drive towards Bronx. There was no specific destination, but he said he wanted go around auto junk yards. 

Lorenzo never asked too many questions. He had good instinct. His skills as an ex - Marine, came quite handy at times like this. More than anything, Luis liked him for his loyalty. 

A rare virtue in humans these days. 

Luis punched a few numbers on his mobile and spoke to his team. He gave strict instructions. By the time their Mercedes SUV reached Harlem River Drive, there were four more vehicles waiting for them.

Each vehicle had two well trained mercenaries, all ex - military. They were to locate the silver color Lamborghini Diablo within the next ten minutes and alert him.

Indeed the team found the car; found it, minus the driver. 

Luis rushed to the junkyard where they found Marcellos’ car. They left the vehicles outside the yard entrance and quietly circled around the junk yard on foot, and then … they saw them.

Ten vs. five individuals. Automatic weapons vs. shotguns. Those were the odds. 

Marcello was with four more IDIOTS carrying shotguns and metal poles. They stood in a circle as if they are in the middle of an ancient ritual. A blindfolded young man was in the middle of the circle. 

The best part was, Marcello was still drinking, straight out of a bottle which looked like Vodka and he was swaying.

“What the f**k is going on?” they were startled by Luis’ voice and it all happened at the same time.

The man who was standing just behind the blind folded young man, hit him hard on his head with his metal pole, and simultaneously one of the members from Luis’ team fired a shot at them.

Next thing Luis saw was the blind folded young man was lying on the ground, bleeding. 

The idiots with the shotguns were kneeling on the ground with their hands behind their heads and Luis’ team held them at gunpoint. One was the idiots were bleeding from his arm; he was the one who hit the blind folded man.

His name was Morris.

Luis looked for Marcello. He was kneeling on the ground, in a drunken state of shock. 

Marcello thought he took a bullet and he must be dying, because the fired bullet flew almost kissing his left earlobe.

********************************************************************************************

Marcello was blabbering in the jeep on the way home. The speeding SUV was jerking on the gravel road. Whatever he was trying to say or ask was incoherent and disturbed by bouts of vomit.

Luis made arrangements to keep the four idiots in captive until further instructions.

Now he is sitting and waiting in the hospital. 

He wanted to hear some good news on the blind folded young man who had under gone a surgery. Doctors brought him the good news; they said he was improving slowly. At least he was not drifting off to a coma now.

Luis smiled. He was so glad to hear that.