Dedication

To all the great storytellers of the past, who have inspired us to dream big, fantasize much, press on, and share our stories with the world.

To my wife, Vera, my ongoing inspiration.

And to my Mother, who first instilled the confidence in me that I can be great.

Chapter One

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It happened so fast. An instant of insanity. Like a show from hell. First, the car, parked, the engine running, a man behind the wheel. Then a madman with a gun. I watched, while standing close by, as Bobby “The Bull Dog” Vongemi obliterated the driver’s side window with an explosive punch of his fist. Then, in the blink of an eye there were five blasts from Bobby's gun into the man's head. I felt horrified, unable to move. Then, Bobby’s voice, loud in my ear, “Frankie, get us out of here! Now!”

He pushed the dead driver out of the way to the passenger side. The dead man had both his eyes and mouth frozen wide open. Bobby quickly shoved me into the driver’s seat.

“Frankie step on it!” he screamed as he jumped into the back seat. I put the white Town Car in gear and drove. As I looked through the blood-spattered windshield trying to see, my hands were bloody from the steering wheel filled with pieces of the man’s head that filled the dashboard.

“Faster! Drive faster, I hear sirens!” Bobby shouted.

I could see the patrol cars closing in as I floored the pedal.

“I can’t! I can’t do this!” I shouted as I made a sharp right, causing the dead man to lean against me. “No! No!” I screamed and cursed.

“Welcome to the Mafia, Frankie!” Bobby laughed in a sick sinister roar.

As the car went out of control and spun, I slammed into a telephone pole. Everything suddenly went black.

My eyes quickly opened and I studied the room. I slowly realized that it had been a nightmare. One of those dreams that leave you stunned for a full thirty seconds. The kind that convince you that you really had been killed. The kind of dream that leaves you soaked with perspiration that could easily pass for blood. I knew it to be a nightmare when I saw my nightstand. My eyes focused on the bed, the dresser, the clock radio—then I felt the rapid beating of my heart.

I looked over at Alicia, a beautiful woman even as she slept. I called her my Angel on earth. The clock showed 3:20 A.M., so I made no movement to disturb her.

I saw in the dim light of the nightlight the newspaper—the one I had been reading before I fell asleep, the one I’d read just before my nightmare. It all had to do with two Mafia brothers. As I looked at the paper, my breathing finally slowed to its normal rate. My turmoil started when I read about Tony Vongemi and his brother Bobby “The Bull Dog” Vongemi, the same Mafia family Alicia and I had escaped from almost two years earlier. Coincidentally, the story appeared on Saturday, August tenth, the first anniversary to the day of the sentencing of the Vongemi brothers. The same brothers who tried to kill me when they thought I would rat them out.

I couldn’t go back to sleep. I couldn’t forget what I had been through. It all came rushing back to me, flooding my mind with very bad memories. During my insurance career, I met Tony Vongemi, the restaurant owner who fed me insurance leads, and how some of those people I’d sold life insurance to started mysteriously dying. I’d come to realize that Tony had something to do with the deaths and fraudulently collected on the policies. After finding out that Tony and Bobby were running one of the most powerful Mafia families in New York, I felt I had to do something before they knocked me off. I did something radical—I planned my fictitious suicide in order to escape, but the FBI stepped in and put them behind bars. That’s when Alicia and I entered the Witness Protection Program.

Over 21 months ago, Alicia, an FBI agent, and I had fallen in love during the Vongemi fiasco. She had been working for the FBI and infiltrated the Vongemi Mafia family, working undercover for Tony Vongemi. We fell in love when she was checking up on my activities in the Bahamas for Vongemi. Alicia has been my whole life ever since I laid eyes on her. The Witness Protection Program relocated us to a small island called Barava, but part of the Cayman Islands.

At 4 A.M., I quietly got out of bed and took the newspaper to the living room. I felt a surge of adrenalin coursing through me. I would be twisting and turning in bed, and probably be waking Alicia, so I left to do some reading and thinking.

I settled on the couch and stared at the newspaper headline, “Mob Kingpins Will Die Behind Bars.” I reread the headline. Something pulled at my heart. I realized it had to do with the whole business of our “disappearance.” To the world, I was dead. I thought of my Mother, my sister, Candace, and my niece, Michelle. I missed them, along with my best friend, Paul. It’s one thing to move away from everyone on your own, but to leave the way I did wrenched at my heart. With the help of the FBI, I had carried out my own suicide. Even with the Vongemi brothers behind bars, they had Mafia connections who would come after us. My “suicide” was to be a way to keep them from coming after me.

My family, friends, and workers all believed I had killed myself by lunging from the top of a New York City skyscraper. I could not tell them the truth. If I said a word, it would put them and me in grave danger. The Vongemi Mafia family had to be convinced that I, Frank Granstino, was in fact dead. That I no longer would be a threat. With the immense resources of the FBI, we were able to achieve our goal: the death of Frank Granstino and the conviction of the Vongemi brothers through written and video evidence sent to the FBI before my supposed demise.

It had all worked beautifully. Tony and Bobby were behind bars. Meanwhile, Alicia and I remained tucked away on a tiny Cayman Island in the Caribbean Sea in a small five-room house. We had pulled it off. We thought I’d be fine, except we didn’t calculate my mental and emotional guilt. It took several months for me to slowly deal with the pain over leaving my loved ones and the pain they must have experienced thinking I had taken my life. If it weren’t for Alicia, I would have found living intolerable, especially for the pain and hurt I had caused my mother.

I hated every mobster ever born. I despised every tough guy that ever put the fear of death in another person. And I hated Tony Vongemi for sucking me, an unsuspecting young man, into his world of Mafia hell, where life meant nothing and each person was either shunted aside or killed. I was deep in thought, ruminating about all we had been through, when suddenly I saw Alicia. She sat next to me and kissed my cheek, and said, “Sweetie, why aren’t you in bed? It’s too early to get up.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake…”

“Frankie, I don’t want you to be consumed with this Vongemi thing. I realize it’s the anniversary of their sentencing, but we’ve got to try to forget.”

Alicia kissed me on the lips and said, “They can’t hurt us anymore. They’re weak. The family has been dismantled. Tony and Bobby will die in prison.”

”I know. It all just came back to me again.”

“I know, Frankie. I miss my family very much, too. It will get better with time. I love you very much. We have each other now and we have a new-found family and friends here at Barava.”

“Alicia, you are my whole world…”

“Come back to sleep, Frankie.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“We start our vacation today. We’ll go to breakfast in the morning. It’s good that we chose this week. We can both use the rest, sweetie!” she smiled.

As she walked away, she left me smiling. I thought about our first meeting. It took place at the poolside of the Diamond Palace Hotel in the Bahamas. Alicia mesmerized me with her hazel eyes, long dark brown silky hair, sexy legs, and lissome body. She smiled and said, “Hi, Sweety.”

“Do you know how beautiful you are in the morning?” I smiled.

“That's exactly why I love you,” she laughed.

My eyes scanned the Daily News article again: “Major Blow for Organized Crime, as Tony Vongemi and Bobby “the Bull Dog,” Mafia Kingpins of the Vongemi crime family, rot in prison. A major turf war has left the Vongemi family weak.”

The News went on to explain how the Ribolli crime family rubbed out Vongemi’s best earner, Vinny “The Fingers” Sandotto, who controlled the Sheepshead Bay area casino ships, restaurants, and businesses in Brooklyn. Vinny “The Fingers” got blown away by some rival mobsters just as he started eating his favorite meal, scungilli, at a seafood restaurant in Sheepshead Bay. The Ribolli family quickly moved into his territory and took control.

The Vongemi family fought back by fire bombing a Ribolli family hangout, killing all three Ribolli soldiers in the building. The Mob war continued when another Vongemi earner, Richie “No Neck” Brachi got blown to smithereens by a car bomb. Brachi, the next in line, now ran the Vongemi family, or what was left of it, while Tony Vongemi and Bobby were in prison.

The article said the Vongemi brothers, while imprisoned for the past 21 months, were down to a skeleton crew. Tony had become a model prisoner, reading many books in the prison library. Bobby “the Bull Dog,” on the other hand, has been like a wounded bear, ready to pounce on anyone and anything that moves. They will no doubt die in New York’s notorious Sing Sing prison, a prison that has held well-known criminals since 1825.

Bobby the Bull Dog is accused by the government of killing fifteen men. He is now in solitary confinement, mostly to protect the other prisoners from his violent temper. After he was in prison for six months and right after the Ribolli family rubbed out the Vongemi top earner, Bobby lost control and killed another inmate over an apparently minor incident of bumping into him, which set him into a rage. Bobby stabbed him fourteen times before the guards pulled him off. His weapon had been a toothbrush filed down to a knifepoint. The paper said that a guard made the comment that the Bull Dog was “one whacked-out cookie,” and that “he stabbed the guy so many times, you think he was tenderizing a steak,” and “Bobby looked like he was ready to tear the guy’s heart out and eat it.”

After reading that, I went back to bed. I remembered Alicia telling me I could get a couple of hours sleep. Thinking any more about the Mob would be useless and exhausting. I figured Alicia had the right attitude—we were safe. We were completely hidden on tiny Barava. We counted on the FBI protecting us. We were so cut off that we communicated with the FBI through our post office box, which we checked once a week. We were not to contact anyone we knew, even the FBI, with our home phone. As promised, pictures of our family were sent to our post office box every six months. Our witness protection names were Mario and Gloria Taini. Also, we were issued high-tech cell phones. In the event of an emergency, we were instructed to use the FBI-issued cell phones to contact the agency. Fortunately, we had never used them.

Alicia had fallen into a deep sleep, so I slid carefully under the covers back on my side of the bed. Just the sight of her made me smile. That smile stayed with me as I fell off to sleep.

Chapter Two

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The tickling sensation woke me. My mind tricked me into thinking a bug or a moth had landed on me, but I opened my eyes to realize the sensation came from strands of Alicia’s fragrant hair lying across my lips. I moved slowly, carefully shifting my weight trying not to awaken my angel. The clock radio showed 8:17 A.M., a good time because I hated getting up before 7:30 A.M.

I waited a few minutes more, but couldn’t hold out any longer. Alicia’s hair had already started my engines, and now they were in full gear. It takes a special loving woman to accept being awakened early on her day off by her horny lover, but I couldn’t resist. The trick I’ve learned over the years is to go real slow, almost as if in a dream. Make the kisses and caresses so soft that she barely awakes.

Softly and slowly, I brushed my lips against her cheek, enough to make her slowly move, waking her slowly like Sleeping Beauty. Alicia is so adorable as she starts to come awake. Her eyes fluttered as she slowly focused on me. A smile slowly emerged. It turned into a mischievous kind of smile. That’s when she’s mine and ready to make love. I know she’s madly in love with me, too. Even if I accidentally awaken her at night, no matter what time, she just snuggles closer to me, even though I disturb her sleep.

I reminisced back, realizing I have had other girlfriends in my twenty-nine years, but none compared to Alicia. Others say that we fall deeply in love only once in a lifetime. As we date, we may believe we found that special love, only to be fooled. Alicia turned out to be my one true love. I believe we were destined for each other by some divine force.

By 10:15 A.M., Alicia and I had arrived at the Barava terminal of the Edward Bodden Airport, which is the fastest way of traveling to Grand Cayman Island, known to locals as the “Big Island.” Barava, known as Little Cayman, is the smallest of the three Cayman Islands, and is only ten square miles in size. There are only two hundred residents on Barava, but tourists and the daily commuting workers add to that number.

Alicia and I occasionally take the ferry, which holds twenty cars. It’s the most popular transport, but it takes three hours to get to Grand Cayman. I never knew there were people who had to commute six hours a day to work.

Alicia and I favor the 40-minute trip on the 19-passenger turbo-prop plane to Owen Roberts International Airport on the Big Island. There are times we just want to spend the day sightseeing or shopping, so we take the prop. When we need to do heavy shopping, we take our car via the ferry.

At first it seemed ridiculous to waste three hours one way on a ferry, but I found I got used to it. I actually welcomed the serenity of traveling on the water. As a former New Yorker, I know what it’s like to be wound up tightly and always rushing. Barava and the ferry rides have helped to calm me down. They’ve become something like a time of meditation. Alicia and I have now grown accustomed to the island’s slower pace.

Barava is in a different time zone, making it an hour behind New York time. Since it has been a British dependant since 1962, drivers use the British custom of driving on the left side of the road, something that I still find awkward. The island is 480 miles south of Miami and 150 miles south of Cuba. Cigars are plentiful on the islands, including Cuban cigars, as well as their homegrown brand. Alicia can’t stand the smoke, the smell, or my cigar breath, so I gladly stopped smoking. Even I hated the stale smell they left on my clothes. It was Tony Vongemi that originally introduced me to them in the first place because he smoked only the finest Cuban cigars. But my cigar days are over, after Tony Vongemi and I parted ways in a cloud of smoke.

Almost always the four daily shuttles to Grand Cayman left on time. Five minutes after our scheduled departure, we were in the air. We had a typical day—clear, sunny, and the temperature nearing 78 degrees. Just another splendid day in what I call paradise. I thought of our tiny island as probably one of the few last paradises. Most others were over-inhabited and commercially exploited to the point of disgust.

Since Grand Cayman has more stores and more happenings of the three islands, we traveled there about every two weeks. Although we’ve attended some popular concerts and museum exhibits there, we’ve learned to accept its limited entertainment and excitement. After all, it’s not New York City with eight million people and its diverse cultural neighborhoods. Besides, it’s better for us to stay alive—safe from all the ruthless people that want us dead.

Once we left New York, our friends and family were all torn away from us. And although we had new acquaintances, our survival mode keeps us from having close friends. I find it ironic, too, that I never did meet Alicia’s parents. They think she’s dead. The Mafia believes Alicia is dead, too, by an accident. Alicia’s video and written evidence testimony helped put the Vongemi family behind bars. The Vongemis had no suspicions that Alicia and I were anything but a fleeting moment of passion back in the Bahamas when we first met. All the while Alicia worked undercover for the FBI while gathering crucial evidence against the Vongemis family. The Vongemis never knew Alicia and I got closer than the fling.

I had just settled in on our forty-minute flight. The two-engine prop has a swaying and, sometimes, erratic movement, but at least the planes were kept clean and spotless.

By 11:20 A.M., we landed and headed into the local car rental agency at the airport. Owen Roberts International Airport was very small compared to New York’s JFK. But it was always so much calmer and more organized to fly out of there. The airport is ultra modern in design and convenient. Island Paradise Car Rental is located right outside the landing gates. The car we rented was driven right up to us outside the rental counter. This time we were given a 1997 white Chevy Nova with thirty-two thousand miles. The special eight-hour resident discount deal we were given cost $19.95, as long as we got the car back within eight hours and refilled the tank. A great deal, even though we could not travel too far on a twenty-two mile long and eight mile wide island.

Grand Cayman has only thirty-seven thousand residents, and thousands more tourists visiting year round, especially when the cruise ships dock. We took off in the car for the ten-mile drive to the Grand Harbour Center Mall, the largest shopping mall on the islands, and boasts the largest number of stores on the islands. We like to go for a sense of some action and to see more people.

We shopped in the Grand Harbour Center Mall for a while. Alicia bought a couple of pants suits and a few casual Caribbean-style shirts for me. By 1:20 P.M., we stopped at one of our favorite restaurants called Deckers, which specializes in local Caribbean dishes, one of our favorites being grilled local tuna with crab, mussel sauce, and basmati rice. We’ve quickly accustomed our tastes to the local foods and spices of the islands to include jerk, curry, and coconut.

Alicia gave me a serious look as we sat in the restaurant and asked, “Frankie, are you all right now? With the Vongemi thing?”

“Oh, I’m fine!” I said, knowing better in my heart. I lied and looked deeply into her hazel eyes. I remember staring into those eyes and getting that strange, tingling feeling. True love has that special power. You know when it hits you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. That loving feeling was as strong as it was almost two years earlier. “It’s just the anniversary of their conviction,” I said. “And that dream about Bobby, the Bull Dog, killing a guy in the car. Sometimes, things bother me.”

A smile started to curve her lips. “You’re not going to get wacky on me?”

“Me, wacky?” I smiled.

“Well, wackier than you’ve been!”

“I know,” I said. “It’s all the memories, the faces, the fear. The fact that I almost took the life of a terminally ill homeless man out of desperation and fear so that I could convince the Mob that his body was mine and I was dead from suicide. Anyhow, I’ll be all right. After all, I’ve got you, babe!”

“Okay, Sonny!” she smiled. “You better be all right. You know I count on you. You are also my everything. We have it very good here. The FBI took good care of us. I know my years of service with them helped get us preferential treatment. But, also, the Vongemis were considered the big whales by FBI standards. They were after the Vongemis for so many years. We were provided for very well.” A sneaky smile emerged.

“We have to keep our heads about us, Frankie,” she continued. “I need you to be strong for the future.”

I stared into her eyes long and hard, as I saw a tear form in her now-moist eyes.

“I think I’m pregnant, I feel…”

“What?”

“I think so, big boy!” she smiled a wide smile.

“How?” I stammered.

“It’s easy, remember!”

“I mean…”

“We’ll know for sure soon. I’ll be going to the doctor tomorrow…”

“Why do you think you’re pregnant?” I asked.

“Well, I’ve missed two periods in a row. I’ve never done that before. And the early pregnancy test I did last night showed a positive result.”

“A baby?” I smiled.

“Yes, a baby! What do you think?”

“I’m stunned! I’m happy! I’m scared!”

“Frankie, how could you be scared?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s just my first reaction. I really am thrilled. I just never thought of children yet for us. I guess this is the perfect environment to raise children. After all, we are calling this paradise!”

“I’m so glad you’re okay with it, sweetie. I was worried…”

“Don’t be silly! A baby? Who wouldn’t want a baby?”

But I was scared. The year 2000 would be here in two more years. It seemed a child needed a name brand college degree just to get a job today. The pressures of raising a child were tremendous. With the drug scene and other peer pressures, raising a child seemed like a monumental task. Then there was the Witness Protection Program. I wondered how that would complicate raising a child. I hoped to work out all my doubts about raising a child in our circumstances, our hidden life. I felt obligated to show Alicia only joy and enthusiasm about the baby. Any reservations would be kept to myself.

A child changes everything. Your perception of the world and people around you. You think about twenty years ahead, the uncertainty, the responsibility.

Alicia would make a fabulous mother. She has so much love to give. She’s so patient and intelligent. Still, I was worried, was I ready? Could I make a good father?

Chapter Three

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We arrived at Seven Mile Island on the south side of Grand Cayman at a little after 3:00. We always tried to visit the Hyatt Regency Resort at the Seven Mile section. We loved the pristine beach and especially the cove where the most elaborate yachts docked.

Alicia and I walked along the docks, viewing yachts some forty-feet long. I never tired of admiring the one yacht with a helicopter pad and helicopter on its deck. The yacht must have been eighty feet in length. I had no idea who owned it, but I estimated its value to be in the millions of dollars.

We watched the activity on the yachts, the crews, the owners, the cleaning of the decks, and the launching of a few larger yachts. Afterwards, we took our shoes off and walked along the beach, listening to the waves, which sang out to me like a beautiful melody. The sights and sounds of the ocean of the Caribbean were as romantic as they could get. We walked hand in hand slowly, relaxing, slowing allowing ourselves to forget our lives for a short time.

I had previously collected enough seashells of various colors and types to open a seashell shop. The best shell collecting was always earlier in the day. However, I had never found any valuables or shipwreck coins. But I was not as diligent as some in their treasure hunts. I was more content in my walks with Alicia. My mind drifted to the baby Alicia was carrying. Alicia did appear to have a certain new glow about her.

We entered the Hyatt Regency Seven Seas Resort bar and sat at a small table to have a cool drink. I looked at Alicia, studying her face and eyes that sparkled with excitement. It was contagious. I felt an electricity flow through my body as I looked at her.

“I love you so much, Sweetie,” she smiled.

“Alicia, I know you do. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life, you are my everything. You make my life complete. And now with a baby on the way…”

“I’m so glad you’re happy. I was worried…”

“Don’t worry. Just think of how much I love you and anything that happens in your life is fine with me. I’ll be the best father in the world.”

“I really believe you will!” she smiled.

She ordered a bottle of water, afraid that any alcohol might hurt the baby, while I had a pina colada. We shared a nacho and cheese platter.

Our day was a great way to start our vacation together. Another new beginning. Life goes in cycles. There’s good; there’s bad; times of ecstasy; times of despair. I had been through a few cycles in my life already. I was enjoying this latest cycle of life, looking forward to our first child.

We walked hand in hand, slowly through the Hyatt Hotel, stopping to look in the windows of the shops on the way to the car. We had a 7 P.M. flight back to our tiny island. Because Seven Mile always had shoppers and tourists, we were never able to park closer than a block away from the Hyatt.

The weather had stayed a perfect 83 degrees with puffy white clouds, and a royal blue sky. The entire area was alive with people, but we were in our own little world. We had enjoyed another quiet day in the Caribbean.

Suddenly, we heard a loud screeching of brakes. When I looked up, I saw a small green car spin out, hit a motorcycle, causing the motorcycle to careen off with a crash. Instinctively, I looked for my rented white car. The motorcycle sped out of control and crashed hard into the hood of our white Nova. A second later an ear-shattering explosion blew the rented white car into a ball of fire. The motorcyclist was blown high into the air—above the flames, and crashed hard into the street some twenty feet away.

I froze in silence. Then, I said without thinking, “What the hell is going on?”

Alicia and I both stared at the ball of fire coming from our rental car. The flames shot high, ten feet or so, as everyone ran and screamed, fearing another explosion.

“Oh my God!” Alicia gasped.

Several people ran over to help the cyclist. A group was gathering fast. Alicia and I walked to the cyclist, only to see blood coming from his mouth. His helmet was nowhere in sight, and his arms and legs were twisted like a pretzel. He did not move or make a sound. Someone tried to find a pulse to no avail. The flames had lessened by the time the fire company had rushed to the scene to foam down the car. The paramedics showed up at the same time and tried to resuscitate the cyclist.

“You realize that this might not have been an accidental explosion,” Alicia said, in an authoritative tone of voice, reminding me of her background with the FBI.

“You think someone tried…”

“Tried and failed only because of the car accident.”

I looked at the green car that appeared to be a Honda Civic. The driver, an old black man who walked with a cane, looked shaken up and had a gash over his right eye. Blood always makes the trauma look worse, especially when the blood drips in various canals down the face and onto the neck and body.

It made perfect sense. No car would explode into a ball of flames. Right away, I could feel a knot build up quickly in my stomach. The same knot that came over me when I felt threatened by the Vongemi Mafia family. “The Vongemis still want us dead,” I said.

“Oh, you can be sure of that, Frankie…if we had started that car up...” Alicia’s face had a look of fear.

We hugged, realizing that we had escaped being blown to pieces. There were no comforting words I could say. I thought about the young man, now covered with a sheet, and obviously dead. His death had saved us. I looked at the covered body and estimated his age to be about twenty-four. I wondered, Does he have a wife? Children? Did he have any children on the way?

The police cordoned off the area as they began their investigation. Alicia and I were questioned by a Sergeant Jamals of the local Grand Cayman Force.

We maintained our Witness Protection identities of Mario and Gloria Taini. And we admitted no knowledge of any bomb or anyone who wanted to harm us.

“You realize that this was a professional hit?” he asked, looking directly at us.

We acted shocked and unaware.

“Whoever did this made sure that the intended victim would have no chance of escape. I will be assigning you security to accompany you both back to the little island.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much to go on. These pros are meticulous in leaving no traces of evidence, except the bomb fragments. There are a select few of these explosive geniuses in the area that specialize in this sort of bombing. It’s a lot like Tel Aviv; they usually get their victim. God was surely looking out for you today. Are you sure you can’t remember any enemies, someone who would want to do you harm? Think back a few years.”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant, we have no enemies. We came here for the climate and the relaxation.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I have family back in New York, too. It’s a real rat race, dog-eat-dog, you know?”

“We do,” Alicia responded. Her face showed newfound concern.

My mind had been racing ahead. I had already begun thinking of an escape strategy. Where? When? How? I didn’t need any more convincing to move on. We were found out. Our position was compromised; it was time to lose the enemy for good.

But why? I kept asking myself. Why? Who could have found us on Barava? Maybe the wrong person had seen us shopping on Grand Cayman.

The Sergeant interrupted, “You both have to fill out an extensive report. I’d like you to come to our precinct and allow me to finalize this terrible experience.”

“Sure thing, Sergeant!” I quickly chimed in. I didn’t want it to appear that I was trying to avoid any questions at all.

“There are a few mug shots I’d like to show you.”

“That’s fine!” Alicia added agreeably.

After arriving at the police station, the Sergeant asked the same questions over again, probably to see if we changed our answers. He did show us photos of suspicious-looking characters that he claimed were career criminals involved in criminal activities on the islands. One crew-cut white guy looked familiar. I didn’t let on.

“You realize that someone wanted you two dead very badly? My bomb squad experts are being flown in to do a thorough investigation. They will try to match up techniques, equipment, and other factors. Bomb making and execution of the act are like a set of fingerprints that bombers and terrorists leave behind. Sometimes, we can match up these different factors to bombings in other states and countries. All the authorities share their information. It’s an unwritten rule. We all help one another.”

“We’ll be very careful…” I began.

“You better be careful. I’m not letting you two go home alone. My man will accompany you to your door. And sometime tomorrow we’ll have the authorities on Little Cayman assign their own people to watch out for you and your home. I want to know anything you find out of the ordinary. I don’t care how small a detail it may be. Keep in mind that this happened in my jurisdiction, so we are the lead agency in charge. Everything must be cleared through me first.”

Alicia looked at me for approval, then said, “We promise to tell you anything we feel is not right or even looks suspicious.”

We left the station looking like two school children accompanied by a six-foot-five giant named Detective Kenneth McGibben, a dark-skinned detective who could pass for a football defensive lineman. Detective McGibben’s eyes scanned the area constantly as we walked. He didn’t speak much and only gave one-word answers when we spoke to him. He clearly did not want anything to happen to us on his watch.

I felt reassured as he sat across the aisle from us on the plane. He must have weighed three-hundred-fifty pounds. They could have sat him all by himself on that side of the plane. The flight seemed quick, possibly because things now had become jumbled in my head. Alicia and I were forced to sit without talking about anything we knew and about those in our past.

Once we arrived, there were two police officers waiting for us at the terminal. They spoke to McGibben briefly; then they left. They appeared to be the local officers guarding the terminal, no doubt, on instructions from Sergeant Jamals.

At the parking lot, Detective McGibben inspected our car carefully—looking inside the hood and under the entire length of the car. He explained what to look for and where most explosives are planted. He declared our car safe. Still, I handed him the keys and he started the car himself. We tried to say our thanks and goodbyes, but it didn’t work. He squeezed himself in the front with me as I drove us all home. I had no idea how he would get his large frame out of the light blue Honda Accord. His head pushed up the interior roof, where it almost made an indentation. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, and I refused to look at Alicia for her reaction or McGibben’s head for fear that I would break into laughter.

When we arrived home at 17 Livelie Drive, he accompanied us inside. We had bought a small, two-bedroom, pink stucco house on a tree-lined street with very few homes as soon as we arrived on the island. It had been our safe haven from the Mob, until now. I thought it to be an impossible place for anyone to find us. Barava was truly paradise with its bright flowers, clear waters, and clean air.

“Your home is secure,” the McGibben stated, after his inspection inside and out. He inspected the doors and even the door jambs, looking for any signs of force. The detective showed me a little trick using a small piece of scotch tape along the bottom of the door taped against the door and onto the molding. The trick was to use a sliver of tape no wider than a quarter inch. It can be used on the inside as well as the outside of the doorway to tell if the door had been moved. If the piece of tape was broken then that was a sign of danger, an indication that someone moved that particular door.

He continued, “I verified that your local authorities will be watching your home carefully. They will do periodic drive-by inspections each hour, checking up on you. They will also, from time to time, be dropping in to do a visual check on you and the missus.”

“We thank you for all your help, Detective McGibben,” Alicia smiled, a nervous smile.

“You kids take good care of yourselves!” he smiled.

He left us, but his words resonated through my head: “You kids take good care of yourselves!” I felt a real pressure, the same kind of pressure and uncertainty I felt two years ago when I felt certain that the Vongemi family wanted to rub me out. They used me in their elaborate scam. I was too naïve to catch on until the damage was done. I knew we were in big trouble then and now we are in big trouble again. We were running out of time and time is not the friend of a Mob target. Time is so uncertain.

I remember worrying at every corner of the road, every new doorway, and every time I started my car. The sense of fright is almost so powerful that it alone could kill you. I remember not sleeping, drinking coffee non-stop, and not being able to tell anyone about my fear of the Mob, for fear of bringing harm to my loved ones.

Now I had Alicia—my wife, my love, and now my very pregnant responsibility whom I had to protect. What a time to be pregnant, I told myself, as I looked and smiled a big smile at Alicia. I stared into her hazel eyes, studying them for a full five seconds, seeing if I could read her mind, sense her level of fear.

“It’s not that bad, Frankie. We just have to call Brennen at the Bureau. He orchestrated our whole Protection Program and the case against the Vongemi family.”

“I know, Alicia. He was fabulous! He made me believe that it would be all right. Until I met Brennen, I didn’t believe there was any hope against the Mafia. The Vongemi reputation was too great.”

“We’ve helped the FBI break them. They’re not what they used to be. We already know that they’ve lost much control of their territory. Revenues have to be way down, and look at the legal costs for Tony and Bobby. Trust me, they’re hurting bad.”

I smiled nervously and thought, Yeah, their back is against the wall, but they’re still Mafia rats who act as ruthless, cold-blooded killers, ready to attack. I couldn’t let on to Alicia how worried I was just yet. I was concerned about her and the baby she was carrying. For a split second I wondered if it was a boy.

“Frankie, what are you thinking about?”

“Oh, I’m just thinking about us and, of course, the little package you’re holding for us.”

“I’m so happy about it. Can you imagine a little Francine.”

“Francine? How about Frank?”

“A girl can’t be named Frank, you nut!”

“I mean…”

“Yeah, yeah…I know what you want,” she said.

“I only want you to be happy!” I smiled.

“I know, Frankie, I know!”

At 8 P.M., we tried to call the FBI Assistant Director, Robert Brennen. We left a message on his secure voice mail. Alicia and I had discussed what had transpired during the day. She was well versed in undercover and security. Alicia had me fooled when we first met. I would have never figured her as an FBI agent. She didn’t fit the stereotype of an agent. Alicia was too soft, sweet, and sexy—a perfect diversion for an undercover agent.

“Think back, Frankie, any suspicious looking characters hanging around or following you or us?”

“Honey,” I said, “As much as this is paradise, I never once let my guard down. I have secretly been in fear of something happening. But, I just worry a lot. Ever since the Vongemi terror days, almost two years ago, I don’t trust anyone.”

Alicia had been under Director Brennen’s leadership for years. They had worked diligently in compiling evidence against the Vongemi family. They needed an airtight case against Tony and Bobby Vongemi. The FBI was so concerned with the possibility of the Vongemis walking either on technicalities or outright mistakes. It took much longer than usual to build their case.

It was Brennen who stepped in at the nick of time, just prior to my elaborate suicide scam, which spared my life, but would mean my taking the life of a terminally ill homeless man. Someone I would try to pass off as me. Someone so disfigured from falling off a skyscraper that his being me would have been believable.

Brennen and the FBI knew my entire plan in their surveillance of the Vongemis, and at the last minute pulled the plug on the operation, much to my great relief. It was also Brennen, along with FBI Agent Hughes, who helped me escape the Vongemis, and carried out a better-planned fictitious suicide of Frank Granstino, dead body and all from the city morgue that was made to look exactly like mine, meticulously matching the tone of the skin color and moles. The FBI can make anyone look like someone else.

It was Director Brennen who gave me a new life, and hope for the future, as isolated as it was. Brennen and Hughes made me finally believe that the Mob could be conned. That they could be beat at their own game, and along with my videotaped testimony, the Vongemis could be locked up for the rest of their lives.

Alicia was secure in our home. Detective McGibben told us that Sergeant Jamals instructed our island’s authorities to run a periodic patrol of the immediate area. Crime was almost non-existent on little Barava. More importantly, which has helped Alicia and me to feel secure, were the guns we kept in our home. We’ve never needed them, and thought we would never use them in the future. But they were there, and the peace of mind they gave us was invaluable.

Working in the past with the FBI gave Alicia special knowledge of firearms. We were allowed through her FBI experience to possess Kimber KDP .40 caliber semi-automatic pistols, which can pump out twelve shots in seconds.

Although we had our guns, we apparently no longer had our safety. Also, our location was no longer a secret. That troubled me very much. If it troubled Alicia, she didn’t show it. Her background with the Bureau gave her a sense of confidence in their ability to deal with the Mafia, but I had my doubts. The Mafia is ruthless in the ways it makes money—and everybody is expendable.

Around 11:30 P.M., our FBI-issued cell phone rang. Our caller ID showed an approved FBI number. Our only contacts with the FBI so far were through the post office box. Our instructions in the Witness Program stipulated that we keep our bug-proof cell phones on 24/7. The cell phone acted as our emergency alert system, our exclusive hotline to the FBI. We had taken the phone for granted for almost two years through non-use.

The call came from Agent Hughes. Alicia sat next to me.

“Frankie, it’s Hughes, FBI. How are you holding up?”

“Mr. Hughes, we’re okay, but there was a…”

“We are well aware of the explosion on the big island, son! We’re looking into it now! Not to worry, you and Alicia are safe. We have agents in your area now. The area is secure.”

Alicia asked for the phone. “Hi, Mr. Hughes, it’s Alicia. Oh, we’re all right. We are just spooked a little. I’d like to speak to Mr. Brennen.”

She looked at me, as she said to Hughes, “Oh, I see. Well, you’ll have him contact us…Fine. I understand. The authorities here believe it was a real pro, extra explosives. No doubt about the out…Okay, hold on.” She handed me the phone, somewhat disgusted.

“Yes,” I asked, not really liking the sound of Hughes’ voice any more than Alicia did. Gerald Hughes may be all right, but he seemed to have an attitude. I wondered, Could it be his job? Did he have problems at home? Whatever, he came off as a real hard-ass. The kind of person you hate to ask any questions. After hearing the standard reply of “we’re working on it,” I asked him, “Mr. Hughes, what does Mr. Brennen say?”

“Listen, son, for right now you’ll be speaking and dealing with me. Mr. Brennen is unavailable!”

“So what do we…?”

“We should meet, Frankie. We planning on moving Alicia and you to a more secure location.”

“Secure?”

“That’s right. I’ll fly out and meet with you and Alicia at four tomorrow afternoon.”

“I guess I…”

“Fine!” he snapped. “Bye for now.”

Before I could say a word he had hung up with a loud click. I realized Hughes could be abrupt, outright obnoxious. Still, I sensed something different, something almost out of character. He had a sense of nervousness. Apparently, he had not told us what worried him.

Alicia and I discussed the situation, the FBI, and the possibility we may be relocated.

“As long as we are together, Frankie, it doesn’t matter where we wind up.”

“I know, Alicia. I also know that we have to think about our baby. I think you’ll be safer somewhere else right now.”

“Somewhere other than with you?”

“Yes, Alicia, I’m sorry. I love you too much to ever risk you or our unborn baby. So…”

“So…” she said.

“So, we keep you hidden from everyone. Even the FBI, Hughes included!”

“But Hughes?” she asked.

“Yes. Hughes! Something is terribly wrong here! I can feel it. Our location has been compromised! The Vongemi Mafia Family is on our tail. Whether they know about you or both of us is immaterial. We’ve been found out, and it’s time now to move on.”

“But we will…” she began.

“But we will move on. Alicia, we can’t trust anyone else but ourselves. Not until we find out how the Vongemis discovered us. Right now, we’ll keep the baby a secret. I got it worked out in my head,” I said. It had never been in our plans to leave each other. Now, I worried how I could keep her safe. How I could keep the baby safe. Would the Mob win in the end?

“Alicia, this is what we are going to do,” I said confidently. I felt an authority that I had never used with Alicia before. But I had a plan that, above all else, would protect Alicia.

“We are going to move you temporarily to Cayman Brac, to the Immaculate Conception Children’s Hospital. You’re going to stay there and receive whatever medical attention you and the baby need.”

“Okay, I got you. Julia’s sister’s hospital? The nun?” Alicia said.

“Precisely! Ever since you mentioned Julia, the girl you worked with at the resort, who had a nun as her sister, I stored that away for later use. I knew that if we needed someone we could trust, a nun would be the perfect person. And, also, the fact that she works at that hospital.”

“That won’t put me too far away from you. I’ll be on the southern tip of Cayman Brac. Julia told me a while ago that it was a children’s cancer care hospital. And that the children, many who are terminal, come from around the world to receive life-saving treatment.” Alicia’s eyes were dancing as she clearly agreed with the idea of the hospital.

“What’s her sister’s name?” I asked.

“It’s Theresa Angelica. Gold is her family’s name.”

“Sister Theresa Angelica…a beautiful name for a nun.”

“Yes, but I still hate for us to be apart!”

“I’m sorry, Alicia, we have to. One day soon we’ll be able to settle somewhere again, safe and …”

“When?”

“We’ve got to wait this out. But what do you think about Hughes? Something is bothering me about him. I think we can only confide in Sister Theresa. We have to tell her not to say anything even to her sister about meeting you.”

“Oh, they have a brother, Rick Gold. He’s supposed to be a multi-millionaire gambler. Makes all his money gambling in Vegas. He’s considered a “whale” in Vegas and gets top treatment. He’s something of a world renowned traveler and playboy.”

“That’s a pair of complete opposites! How did that happen? A playboy gambler and a nun in the family!”

We spoke some more. Alicia cried for a few minutes. I didn’t want to get upset, so I held my emotions in. I remembered crying when my father passed away more than ten years earlier. I don’t think I fooled Alicia at all about my feelings.

I told Alicia the rest of my ideas, and that I wanted to call Sergeant Jamals, even though it was midnight. I went ahead and made the call.

“Hello, Mr. Taini, this is Sergeant Jamals. What happened?”

“Thanks, Sergeant. Thanks for calling me back.”

“Is there something wrong, Mario?”

“Sergeant Jamals, I need your help. I can’t trust anyone else.”

“Are you in immediate danger, Mario?”

“No, sir. I don’t think so. But I’ve got to get Alicia out of here. She’s pregnant, and I don’t want her to be under any stress.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Taini. Your first?”

“Yes and I’m worried!”

“Don’t be, son. Everything will be fine! What can you tell me about the people you’re scared of?”

“Nothing. I can’t tell you anything. I just need you to help me and not force any answers out of me.”

“I see. You trust me, but only so far…”

“Sergeant Jamals, I can’t tell you who is after us, or why. Only that we are not criminals and are not involved in drugs. But I can’t tell you anything else.”

“Okay, I understand. What do you need? Have you seen the patrol car around your area?”

“Yes, I did catch them once. I’m sure they’re making the rounds. Sergeant, I need your help. I’d like to take Alicia to Cayman Brac and leave her there for a while at a friend’s place. I would like someone to accompany us by private ferry to the island. Is it possible to impose on Detective McGibben to help us? I trust him and think he’s a good officer.”

“Mario, Ken McGibben is the best officer I have ever known. He takes his job very seriously. Consider it done. What time do you need him at your home?”

“Seven in the morning.”

“He’ll be there at six thirty sharp. And Mario?”

“Yes?”

“Take my cell phone number down. It’s: 877-222-8444. You can call me any time, day or night. Mario, just be honest and up front with me.”

“I promise, Sergeant!”

Alicia stood next to me with a sad, but determined look. After I hung up, she said, “You know, Frankie, I’m only doing this for the baby. I would never have agreed to go into hiding without you. I’m terrified about what could happen to you.”

“Alicia, I swear, everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to be together real soon. As soon as Director Brennen contacts me, we’ll be together and safe somewhere else.

“Well, he better call soon,” Alicia said. “Brennen’s a real class act. From my dealings with him years ago, he’s a straight shooter. They don’t come any better than him. I can’t understand why he didn’t call us back yet, though.”

“He will. Don’t you worry! But I’m not taking any chances with you. Not now,” I said.

We hugged tightly and I hoped I could get everything worked out.

Chapter Four

__________________________________________________

That night I couldn’t sleep, so I quietly slipped out of bed without disturbing Alicia. I sat on the couch in the living room in the dark and looked out the front window. I felt uneasy, unsure of who may come looking for us. Alicia was my responsibility and I couldn’t rest until I knew she was safe and out of the way with the nuns on Cayman Brac.

With whatever little light came from outside, I could make out everything in the living room. I kept asking myself questions: Who was after us? Where were they hiding on the islands? How close were they to us? When and where would they strike again? Were they outside, just waiting to break in while we slept?

My heart pounded as I was anxious and frightened. More questions kept bouncing around in my head: Where was Director Brennen of the FBI? Why hadn’t he called me? Would he just ignore me? How was my family or my friend Paul? How were my friends from Financial Life? Am I really doing the right thing leaving Alicia alone?

I heard what seemed to be a whisper. I heard the whisper again. I could only make out the word “trust.” I waited again. I held my breath. The clock on my table showed 1:00 A.M. I felt I could hear every decibel of strange sounds from outside. Again, a whisper that seemed to be my father’s voice saying, “Trust no one. Trust only your heart!”

As quickly as the whisper started, it stopped. I asked my father a question out loud, but I heard nothing more. I sat and stared out into the darkened room, trying to make sense of it all. I had heard my deceased father’s voice nearly two years earlier when I feared being rubbed out by the Mafia. Back then his voice comforted me greatly. But this time he had given me a warning. Now, I believed I would have to be extremely cautious.

I remembered, too, how Tony Vongemi had Louie G. “the Jeweler’s” finger, chopped off in front of me, just to show me the punishment anybody could get if they cheated the Mob. Then, I saw a guy caught cheating at a poker table in Tony’s illegal back-room casino. He got dragged out of the room. The last I heard he had been shot in the rear of the restaurant. The vivid memory of Louie G’s blood splattering all over the table from his missing finger convinced me to listen to my father’s message, “Trust only your heart.”

My father, while in his early sixties, had died in an automobile accident. His loss was sudden and staggering to our family. I regretted not spending more time with him. I suffered with guilt for years because I didn’t tell him all the things I felt for him. I wanted to know if he was proud of me. Although I didn’t hear his exact words, I felt what he wanted to say to me now, “Of course, I’m proud of you. I will always admire you for your courage. I’m watching over you.”

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