The Birth of an Assassin Read online

  Click.

  Whirr.

  They all froze and turned to see Theo standing at the entryway staring at them.

  A second later, they were looking back at Sergio, who had come around the counter wielding a baseball bat.

  The man closest to Sergio smiled back at him and nodded.

  “Under the circumstances I hope you have not jumped to any final conclusions. We are offering you a service at a reasonable rate. We mean no harm and your well-being is our only concern. But I see you have made up your mind,” the man said nodding towards the bat Sergio was holding in his hands.

  “I hope it was in your best interest,” the man added.

  Sergio knew that he had to show them that he was not afraid, that he was not one to be intimidated, yet knowing that he had to be cautious. This is America and there are laws protecting us from those who would try to extort money. He also knew that the law often moved at a snails' pace and that these men did not come right out and threaten him.

  By the time the men exited the shop Theo had crossed the street and at a safe distance -

  Click.

  Whirr.

  Sergio appeared in the doorway a few seconds behind the men staring out at them as they got into a nearby 1938 Black La Salle V8.

  Click.

  Whirr.

  Theo’s camera caught them as they entered their vehicle and drove off.

  Click.

  Whirr.

  Another picture of the car caught as it headed south on South Wabash entered Theo’s collection.

  Theo saw his father at the store’s doorway and took another picture. By the time Theo looked up again his father had retreated into the store. About a minute later, he saw his mother arrive.

  Click.

  Whirr.

  He watched the front of the store for about two minutes before turning his attention to a group of kids across the street playing stoopball.

  Click.

  Whirr.

  Suddenly, someone shoved him from behind.

  “Hey, Squirt,” Theo heard.

  It was an older kid.

  “What you got there?” the kid asked pointing to the camera.

  Theo stared at the boy who stood about a half foot taller than he did.

  “It’s… it’s a camera” Theo responded.

  Click.

  Whirr.

  Theo snapped his picture.

  The boy reached for the camera as Theo pulled it back to his side.

  “Hey, I want to see it,” the boy said.

  “You can’t see it,” Theo responded.

  “Well, suppose I take it,” the boy said advancing towards Theo.

  Realizing he had no choice and without any warning, Theo kicked at the boy, getting him on the shin, and took off running across the street.

  The boy screamed with pain and took off after Theo.

  Theo crossed the street with ease and was in front of his father’s store in seconds. Seeing the boy coming after him, Theo ran into the store. The boy followed Theo only to stop in his tracks when he saw Theo’s Father.

  “What do you want with my boy?” Sergio asked him.

  “No… nothing sir,” the boy responded as he retreated out of the store with some speed.

  “Theo, you need to stick closer to the store from now on or bullies like that will try to steal your camera,” he told his son.

  “Ok, Dad,” Theo responded.

  “Wow that was a close one,” Theo thought to himself.

  “Theo, you stay here with your mom and clean up. I’ve got some errands to run. You are in charge of closing up so I’ll see you at home,” Sergio said.

  “Huh! Ok, Dad,” Theo responded.

  Lucia was in the back and overheard Sergio speaking to Theo and came out.

  “Where are you going?” she asked him.

  “Got some business with the other store owners. Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours,” he told her.

  The Costellino Family

  New York City / June 1942

  Sitting in his 2nd floor office above the Italian pizzeria he owned, Sambrasio Agostino smiled at the man across his desk and wondered how long it would be before someone put a bullet in his head for being brash and arrogant.

  “You think we should back off, or we should be kind to the store owners and provide them with protection for free? That is what you think?” he asked the man sitting across from him.

  If it were not that Sambrasio found it amusing to the point of hysterical, he would have had him escorted out. Sambrasio was not impressed with the man’s balls but had agreed to let him talk.

  “Yeah, win their respect and confidence and they will allow us to use their shops to run the numbers or store some of your merchandise. They help us and we help them. Simple as that,” the man responded.

  “I don’t agree. I think it’s a stupid idea,” Sambrasio said almost spitting it out.

  The man across from Sambrasio stood and smiled down at him.

  “Sorry you feel that way. It is clear that I cannot say or do anything that can persuade you. I was hoping you would see things my way and would be more cooperative in pleasing me,” he said as he turned his back and walked towards the door.

  “Please you? Who the fuck do you think you are? You stupid arrogant whop, get out of my office before I have your balls cut out and fed to my dogs,” Sambrasio, now standing, shouted out to him as he watched him exit his office.

  Sambrasio stared at the back of the closed door wondering who this person was, thinking he could just waltz in here and start telling him how to run my business.

  A couple of months ago they hit a few stores for extortion money. For the most part, the owners were easily persuaded and cooperative. However, when they visited the owner of the bakery, a Mr. Alfred Bettino - this idiot - stood up to them. One of Sambrasio’s men ended up in the hospital with a broken arm after Bettino hit him with a bat and chased the other man out into the street. Sambrasio was furious.

  This was unacceptable. What would the others think? That he was a pushover. Sambrasio ordered a small army of his men to visit the bakery owner. When they got there, they found the store burned down and the owner gone. In fact, no one ever heard of Alfred Bettino.

  All of a sudden, he shows up, and asks to talk with the boss, Sambrasio Agostino.

  Stepping out of the pizzeria and into the darkness, Mr. Alfred Bettino nodded to the two men waiting across the street. Bettino walked up to them and they huddled in the entryway of a nearby apartment building.

  A few minutes later, they disappeared into the darkness to wait.

  Sambrasio stared at the door for a short time before ordering his men to find this Alfred Bettino and dispose of him.

  “I want everyone to know that it was me. Send them a message on what happens if you mess with me,” he ordered.

  A few minutes later two men left the pizzeria and jumped into a nearby black 1939 Graham 97 heading to where the bakery had been located. Sambrasio figured that someone was holding back and knew more than what they were saying. He decided to send in a couple of his men to extract information.

  Unfortunately they didn’t notice the car that followed.

  When they arrived on Motts Street, the car following stopped about two cars down and parked. The occupants from the car that followed exited and approached the Graham from both sides.

  As Sambrasio’s men stepped out of their car, a hail of bullets greeted them.

  Alfred Bettino and his two men ran back to their car and sped away heading back to Sambrasio’s pizzeria.

  A few minutes later they were there waiting.

  Almost an hour had passed before Sambrasio got the call. He jumped to his feet, his face beet red.

  “What, who, when?” he yelled into the phone.

  Sambrasio slammed the phone down and screamed for his car.

  “They screwed with the wrong person,” he said to himself through clenched teeth.

  Leading the way
he descended the two stairways in seconds and was out on the street with his bodyguards still trailing behind him. One of his men jumped in front of him and looked around. He signaled the driver across the street to bring the car forward not noticing the three men who stepped out of a car parked on their side of the street one car over. The intruders approached quickly with Thompson submachine guns blaring before Sambrasio’s men could react. The bullets ripped into them without discrimination, making Swiss cheese of their faces and bodies. Hearing the gunfire the other men inside the building came running only to be met by the same fate. They never had a chance. Sambrasio’s driver jumped out and ran the other way.

  Sambrasio’s downfall was due to his ignorance. He never took the time to investigate Alfred Bettino. A man formerly out of Chicago. Who fled to New York as a precaution when he learned of his boss’s arrest for tax evasion. Bettino spent the last few weeks planning this meeting with Sambrasio.

  He learned Sambrasio was not liked by anyone including his own men, and it would be easy to take over his business. Nevertheless, Bettino knew he had to get rid of the top guns first and everyone else would fall into line; it was a matter of timing.

  So ended the life of Sambrasio Agostino and his organization and in its place 41 year old Bolnaldo Costellino, alias Alfred Bettino, became boss. By his side stood twenty-year-old Clemente Marino who would serve him as Consigliore until the end.

  United We Stand

  Little Italy/Chicago, June 1942

  “Sergio, quello che vi porta al mio negozio. Che la bella moglie del tuo era già qui in questa settimana?” Benito Randazzo asked Sergio.

  Sergio smiled at Benito, who was asking him why he was in his shop when his wife had been there earlier in the week.

  Switching to English Benito continued,

  “Hey, I only sell to that wife of yours. Not her ugly husband.”

  Sergio and Benito had been friends now for almost ten years, since they first came to Little Italy. Both had arrived from Sicily around the same time forming an alliance of true friendship.

  “Benito, my friend, I need a minute of your time. Got something to ask you,” Sergio said pointing to the backroom.

  The smile on Benito’s face became a look of concern. He knew his friend well and knew that something was wrong.

  “Hey, Calito, you cover for me while I talk to my friend,” Benito shouted out to his son.

  “Hello, Mr. Gresco,” Calito said to Sergio.

  Sergio smiled at him and nodded.

  “Ok, Pa. Take your time I got it covered,” he shouted.

  The two men retreated to a back room where Benito had a small desk with several chairs. Reaching for a cigar box, he offered his friend a cigar, which he purchased from Sergio’s store.

  “Nice cigars” commented Sergio.

  “Got it from a cheap store on the corner,” responded Benito.

  Sergio smiled at him as they sat across from each other.

  “What’s a matter?” Benito asked him.

  “Have you been visited by two men offering protection?” Sergio asked him.

  “Yeah, they came in here,” he responded.

  “I told them I didn’t need any protection and to take that back to their boss and tell him,” Benito told Sergio.

  Sergio stared at his friend for a few seconds.

  “I think they are going to be a problem. In fact I know they are going to be a problem,” Sergio said.

  “One of them was reaching for something under his jacket when they saw me with my bat,” Sergio told Benito.

  “I think they were carrying guns and if my kid had not showed up at that second they would have pulled them on me” Sergio went on.

  “Quei bastardi,” Benito commented.

  “I know they will be back. I want to be ready when they do,” Sergio said.

  Benito stared at his friend and knew what he was thinking. They heard stories about the Black Hand, an organization of hoodlums who extorted money from local shopkeepers. Rumor was they had been dismantled by the F.B.I.

  “I want to protect myself. I need a gun,” Sergio said.

  “My friend, this is a terrible idea. These men know how to use their guns. When have you ever fired a gun?” Benito asked his friend.

  “Well we can’t go to the police. We don’t know who we can trust,” Sergio said.

  “If they see that I have a gun too, it might scare them off,” Sergio stated.

  “Yeah, it might or they may pull their guns and open fire on you and anyone else in your shop. These bastards don’t give a damn about you or anyone else,” Benito responded.

  After a few minutes Sergio stood up with excitement and said,

  “Well, if they approached you, I am sure they went to all the other shop owners on the block. Why don’t we get together and hire our own protection? We all pay a fraction of what we earn and that way we are in charge. We will hire an armed guard to patrol our block.”

  “Hey! You know, that is a good idea. You might look dumb but that’s a real good idea,” Benito said, now smiling.

  “Yeah, that’s a great idea,” added Benito.

  “Ok. I’ll go and talk to the other shop owners and see what they think,” Sergio said.

  “I got a cousin who is in the service and is home for three months before he has to report. He’s looking for temporary work while he waits for the call. He knows how to use a gun,” Benito said.

  “That’s great,” Sergio responded.

  Sergio was right; the other shop owners had also been threatened. All were eager to go in with Sergio and Benito to hire someone to protect them. With twelve shops in all sharing the cost, the impact was more than manageable.

  Within a week, the plan was in motion and Benito’s cousin, Davino Carmine, was hired.

  Davino, at 5’ 11”, weighed 155 pounds, and was on call to active duty in the military police. While waiting to be summoned he agreed to take on the job. One of the first things he did was give all the shop owners a whistle to use to alert him in the event of trouble. On the first day, each shop took turns blowing the whistle to test his response. They laughed as he raced from shop to shop. It was a form of indoctrination. After the dust settled, they realized the seriousness of the situation and apologized, though still laughing aloud.

  Davino took it in stride and within a week won the respect of all of the shop owners. As an added incentive, he received free room and board in an apartment overlooking the butcher’s shop, the building owned by Benito Randazzo.

  The two men who approached the shopkeepers never returned and for a short time, the shop owners breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  Theodosio and Nick Meet

  Little Italy/Chicago

  Holding his camera as he ran towards his father’s shop, Theo recalled the incident of the other day when another boy had tried to take his camera. The memory made him more cognizant of the people around him. A half block from the corner, where his father’s shop stood he slowed to a walk.

  Suddenly out from behind a stoop three boys emerged and were now blocking his advance.

  “Well, well, well. Look what we have here,” said one of the boys; the same lad Theo kicked the day before.

  “Think you’re going to get away from me now?” the boy asked Theo as he advanced towards him.

  Theo moved backwards contemplating his options. His father had taught him that when confronted with a situation, doing the unexpected would give him an edge.

  Theo removed the camera from around his neck and now grasped the camera by its straps.

  “You better leave me alone,” he told the boy.

  The boy hesitated when he saw Theo was now holding the camera by the straps and he intended to use it.

  “What’re you going to do with that,” he said mocking Theo.

  The boys advanced on Theo as he continued to move backwards.

  Without warning Theo swung the camera at the boy, catching him off guard and causing him to fall backward onto one of t
he other boys. Seizing the opportunity Theo ran.

  The boys recovered and gave chase.

  Theo ran into the nearby butcher shop owned by his father’s good friend, Benito.

  “Hey, Theo!” shouted Calito as he saw him race in.

  “They’re chasing me,” Theo explained.

  Calito came around the counter in time to see the three boys coming to a stop at the store entrance.

  “You boys looking for trouble?” Calito asked them as he approached them with a meat cleaver in his hands.

  The boys stopped and made a quick retreat.

  “Theo, you ok?” Calito asked him.

  “Yes. Thank you, Calito. Please don’t tell my father. He won’t let me take my camera out if he found out,” Theo added.

  “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” Calito told him.

  Theo walked to the front of the store and peered out. Not sure if the coast was clear yet he decided to stick around in the butcher shop. Calito noticed Theo’s concern and came over to him.

  “Hey, let me show you a secret passageway,” he told Theo.

  A second later, Benito came into the shop.

  “Calito, what are you doing?”

  “Pop, Theo here needed some help with some punks. Cover for me for a couple of minutes,” he told his father.

  His father looked at both of them noticing the fear in Theo’s eyes and the concern in his son’s.

  “Ok, but hurry back,” he told Calito.

  Calito took Theo with him through the back of the store and into the alleyway.

  “Now, follow me,” he instructed Theo.

  Calito stacked some boxes alongside a wall that separated the store’s property. He used the boxes as steps to go over the wall as Theo followed. They continued their route behind the adjacent buildings heading towards Theo’s father’s shop. As they moved through the alleyways and got closer to the corner, Theo could hear the paperboy on the corner.

  “Extra, extra read all about it! Germans and Italians reached El Alamein. Read all about it,” the boy shouted.

  It was like music to Theo’s ears. They were just a couple of buildings away.