Carlos and the Turk

Carlos stared into the mirror and threw some more cold water into his face. It made no difference of course but it made him feel better, even if only for a moment. How had he let things come to this? In a foreign land doing a dirty job that he could tell nobody about and yet…he was the best at it. How had he let things come to this?

Morvado was a self made man – no silver spoon in his mouth, a poor Hispanic orphan child who rose to be celebrated amongst his peers at MIT, Harvard and the Sorbonne . A superb linguist, yet this was only a hobby, he hoped to work in his chosen field of physics. But THEY had not let things come to that. He was a marked man with his future marked out before him before he ever knew about it.

Today in Rome he must kill Carlucci. Not too bad he thought, for Carlucci was an animal, the sort of guy that could give the mafia a bad name. He smiled to himself at his little joke. Strange how he could find humour in even the most bleak of situations.

But this time there was a problem. Carlucci knew he was after him. In the past week they had discovered a Mafia mole in the organisation who had alerted Carlucci. The job was cancelled of course……But no that’s what Carlucci would have expected, Carlos decided to go ahead now that Carlucci’s guard would be down. How could anyone be so foolish to go after Carlucci now that the secret was out? What Carlucci didn’t know was that Carlos liked a gamble, and like any real gambler the worse the odds the greater the buzz if you do pull it off. He also knew Carlucci was arrogant and would brazenly walk the streets of Rome that day. He may not be seen again for a very long time, Morvado had to take his chance now. He knew exactly where he would find him that day and hailed a taxi to his destination.

The target moved amongst the throng. Carlos recognised him immediately. Safety in numbers thought Carlos. This could be awkward but he wasn’t going to give up. Carlucci could barely move amongst the crowd but that didn’t matter for today the streets were packed, it was a typical Roman celebration. Carlos took out his gun. He sweated profusely from the heat but was a picture of calm inside- this is what made him the best, ice in those veins made him infallible……almost infallible. Carlos acted swiftly raised his gun aimed and fired 4 shots.
Disaster! At the very moment he shot a car drove between him and his target. ‘What the fuck’ He had shot the man in the car ‘Oh Dear God, what have I done?’ It was Rome or to be more precise the Vatican 1981 and Carlos had just shot the pope.

Carlos was distraught; A Turkish tourist pulled the gun from Carlos and held it aloft for all to see. Carlos struggled free from his grip and sped away through the crowd. How could he have let it come to this?

Somewhere in Ireland – Summer 2009
Carlos puts the phone down and logs on again to finalise details with his ‘companion’ for his Greek odyssey. His research is done. He is now sure that this is the woman that can lead him to Carlucci.

Yes, Carlucci would be his final mission. A final act of revenge in this sordid tale. Revenge against the man that had killed his only brother. His kid brother that he had helped to raise after his parents had been lost in a plane crash in the Amazon. This was also for them, but mostly for his dear brother….Sergei.