Silver Lining - A Carpelli Adventure: Sequel To The Bestselling Thriller Fatal Mistake (4 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

The morning broke wet. It was a rainy dreary day, perfect for a ride in the country. Yeah, right, it sucked. It was a day to stay in and read. But I needed to go and see a man about some crooked cops. It was a sign that life was getting back to normal for me. So far, my time in Knoxville hadn’t been what I normally experienced. Other than the dumb ass biker, I tased last night, I hadn’t had to rough anyone up, which was what was usually expected of the new guy in town. In my profession, you always had to prove yourself. You always start at the bottom and have to work your way up. Especially working for an attorney, who was supposedly working for some of the more colorful, people in our society.

I did my usual thing, when I’m planning on going to see someone new. I looked up the name and address of the person on the internet. The Iron Horse Restaurant leaped off the search engine page with several hundred listings. Every one singing its praise. To my surprise the Oracle Mohammad, was another extremely popular search engine subject. I clicked on the one that said it was the official site and wouldn’t you know it, Mohammad popped right up. Well I think it was him. It was just a silhouette with the words, “No photo available” stamp over it.

The Oracle Mohammad was on the net, but he didn’t quite have the usual profile. His profile was extremely vague and lacked a lot of basic information including a picture. But it did provide other information like a list of his talents. Right on the top, were soothsayer and story teller. It listed his age as timeless and his nature as righteous. When it came to listing his race it said, Deity. His favorite hobbies were creating barbeque recipes and hunting wild hog or man. He claimed they were both such crafty creatures and they made great barbeque.

When it came to his business ventures it listed The Iron Horse Restaurant, soothsaying, storytelling and fortune telling. It also listed his prices for fortune telling.

A Quick Look………………….….$      25.00

Good Guess……………….…..…..$     50.00

Best Guess with Details…………..$      100.00

Nearly a Sure Thing……………....$     150.00

A Sure Thing……………………...$      200.00

Honest to God the Truth….………$      500.00

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly…$     750.00

The God’s Awful Truth…………..$ based on the person asking

The Devil’s minion need not ask. I won’t do.

He sounded like quite the character and I wasn’t looking forward to talking with the old fart. I would have much rather of just made my usual approach to the cops, one at a time and picked their brains with a Louisville slugger, but my new employer didn’t want that. He wanted me to meet with this old fart at his restaurant and so, off I went to find him.

The Iron Horse Restaurant had been a train repair shop at some point a hundred years ago. It was a huge building that looked every bit the antiquated railroad building ripe for urban renewal, except the front third that housed the restaurant. What the remainder of the structure was used for, I didn’t have a clue about. Inside the main doors, there were plaques all over the walls, showing trains and trains under repair, dating as far back the eight-forties. There were also pictures of prominent citizen’s dating from the first Mayor of Knoxville in the early eighteen hundreds up to and including the year two thousand election. There were even a few photos of Presidents standing on the rear of a train car giving speeches and of men being loaded aboard box cars dressed in Civil War uniforms. That would be the war of Northern Aggression to many of the hill folk, whose ancestors fought in the war were still living in the surrounding hills and mountains of the Knoxville area.

When I first pulled up to the Iron Horse, I was astounded by the huge number of limousines and cars that lined the street waiting for their turn to be valet parked. I passed up the line and parked my junker of a car, two blocks away uphill by what I think was a student dorm for the University of Tennessee and walked back down the hill to the restaurant.

You could tell the place was exclusive by the line for parking, the type of cars and clients it drew, plus there wasn’t another business within a half mile of the place and it was drawing a huge crowd. If you were driving too fast and you totally missed the line for parking, you would be by it in a flash and not even realize it was there. The building itself, sat back off the main road a good hundred feet, with a landscaped garden and seating area out front. There were beautiful landscaped hillocks on both sides of building as well, with pine trees on top of them that ran up and down the street from the building, hiding the fact it was in an old rail yard. Screening the view of the place from downtown and the dorms. Just past the restaurant was large fenced parking lot where they parked the valeted cars, another where they parked the limos and the guarded drive off the side street that lead to the back of the restaurant for deliveries. Everything was fenced in and attended, with several roving armed guards insuring the guest’s vehicles were safe.

As I walked down the hill to the restaurant, it was easy to see, I was clearly under dressed. Every man was wearing a suit and tie. Every woman wore a dress or a business suit. There were no children in the crowd. All of the valets and doormen were focused on the people who mattered, the one’s getting out of their limos or having their car valet parked. I slipped behind them and in the front door. As I did so, I wondered if they had security cameras in addition to the armed guards. I found out the answer two steps inside the door.

Before my eyes could adjust to the lower light setting inside The Iron Horse, I found myself met by two very large gentlemen who materialized out of thin air, or so it seemed. The larger of the two, very curtly asked, “Can I help you?”

I came up short in my stride stopping just short of colliding with the Himalayan twins. I looked up and said, “I don’t know, what is it, you do?”

The larger one then leans in my direction and says, “A tie is required.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware. I don’t normally wear a tie for any reason, so I doubt I’d would have worn one anyways, but it’s good to know.” I was my usual smart ass which got the usual response. They reached out and grabbed my arms. In most cases I would have stuffed my foot into the closest one’s groin but something told me, doing so might be the last mistake I’d ever make. So, instead I asked, “Is the Oracle Mohammad in. I’m told he’s expecting me.”

“You can give it to me and I will deliver it to him.” The large one said.

“Not a chance, Tiny. My instructions said to deliver in person and put it in his hand only.”

Immediately they let go of my arms and the circulation returned then the larger one said, “Wait here.” He then walked away leaving his buddy standing there just six inches away and breathing heavy.

“Typical crowd for a weekday?” I asked and he simply looked at me like I was a bug on his windshield. Undeterred, I continued to try and engage the behemoth. “I wasn’t prepared for the long line. Must be some special you got going today.” Still he didn’t respond. It was then that the larger behemoth returned.

“What’s your name?” he asked. I of course never tell anyone my real name right off the bat, so I was about to tell him, I was Sam Walton, when he said, “If it doesn’t match the one the Oracle gave me, then you’ll be spending an afternoon and evening in the emergency room.”

I was dumbstruck. That was my line. I told people something similar on a daily basis and now this poster child for steroids had said to me. I decided I’d make an exception this time and told him. “I’m John Carpelli.”

The big man’s expression never changed, he just turned and started to walk away saying over his shoulder, “Follow me.” To ensure I followed him, his little buddy gave me a solid nudge from behind and I quickly followed.

We walked down an entrance hall to where the hostess was directing the seating and promptly took a left turn into draped doorway. It opened up on to a hallway that was about eight feet wide and filled with people, wait staff, I assumed, they were all carrying trays of food or dishes. I was unaware that people could actually run while carrying a large tray of food with one hand and a folding table in the other. It was impressive.

We walked down this hallway, dodging waiters and waitresses, exploding through different doorways, all along the hallway. It turned out the kitchen was on the other side of the hallway and this hallway was how the wait staff was able to move around without being too intrusive on the guest’s meal.

We’d traveled about three quarters of the way down the hallway when the lead mountain stopped and opened a door. “Step in here.” He stated in a way that didn’t allow me to refuse. So, I stepped in. When the door closed behind me, I definitely became concerned for the room was no bigger than double sized coat closet. Then it moved. It moved upward as in, it was an elevator. When it stopped the door, opened and there stood another huge man. He smiled and pointed to his right. “The Oracle will see you. Don’t make any sudden moves or raise your voice.” The man said.

“What no threat of death, if I do?” I spouted sarcastically at him.

He smiled as I stepped past him and said in a whisper, “You understood. So there was no need to be redundant.” I continued walking towards a man with his back to me without saying a word, the guy had a point.

Apparently the man I was looking for was sitting at a table next to a huge window that looked out over the main floor of the restaurant. On the opposite wall, were several built in CVC monitors showing two dozen different camera views of the restaurant and grounds.

“Mr. Carpelli, it is so good to meet you. I do hope that your association with Mr. Holston, is short but profitable.” The old man stated. The Oracle was an African American man about eighty. He had white hair on top and on his bearded face. He never took his eyes off the window as he greeted me. “Have a seat. Lunch will be served momentarily.”

“I wasn’t aware I was coming for lunch.”

“Few people do. But I like you. I can tell you’re a good man and so we will be friends.” The old man stated as though I had no say in the matter. “Don’t worry, John. In time, you’ll see I’m a good man too.”

“I guess I’ll reserve judgement until then I guess.”

“You’re new in town, sort of. You have been here a year and have only just recently ventured out to explore your new home,” The old man said.

“How could you possibly know that?” I asked.

“John, I am blessed with knowing most things.”

“Oh, so you’re God?” I asked with only a small touch of sarcasm.

“John, John, John. I will let it pass this time, since you are new, but you must set aside your overactive skepticism and take somethings on faith.”

“The only person I ever heard of who knew all things was God. He was omnipotent.”

“And that he is my friend. I am only blessed with some knowledge. All of my blessings come directly from him. I am not God. I am a deity. A lesser God of his making.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” I replied sarcastically again.

“Lord, you certainly have made this a challenge haven’t you?” The Oracle blurted out and finally looked at John. His lips were tight but his eyes had a sparkle to them. “John, how do you think I know your name?” he asked.

“I assume Holston called to let you know I was coming.”

“I am afraid not. I don’t have a phone.” The Oracle stated.

“I saw the restaurant has several phone lines. I’m sure there has to be at least one, man mountain around here, who knows how to use a phone. They could easily pass on a message to you.” I had that charade covered. Then I had another thought. “The restaurant also has a website, you have another website, for telling fortunes. Both have emails. I’m sure, if Holston or anyone else, wanted to contact you without coming in they’d easily be able to get through to you.”

“Oh John, I don’t know how to use any of those things. I will admit that at times people will try to send me messages but they are redundant at best. This is where you need to have some faith and believe me, your friend,” the Oracle stated.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but as your friend I need to be honest.” I replied. “Everything you have talked about here, I do every day in my work. I appreciate the theatrics but I’m far too worldly to buy into you being a deity. You are well informed but even you have stated you don’t know everything.”

“Alright, let’s start with that thought. Think of somethings that no one would know about except you.” The Oracle stated and then closed his eyes. A moment later he said, “I don’t normally make the effort to prove myself to the non-believers.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m just a crusty hard case, who has seen far too many of God’s children do unspeakable things to each other all in the twisted desire to prove their more valuable than the other guy.”

“John, shut up and listen for a change. Your profession is what the police would call, a mob enforcer. You are assumed to have killed dozens of men, who have crossed those in power, in the mob, though you have never been charged with even a single murder.”

“You last worked for a good man, despite his having worked for the mob as an attorney. His name was Jackson Bender. He now lives in Vermont, where he writes books about mob crimes and uses a double to do his public appearances because he is in the witness protection program. Your last job for him was to find the crime bosses missing son, which you never were able to do. Though you did, at least in your mind, discover the man’s killer. A Tyler Stone. You believe that the crime bosses son and his lady friend, Tyler’s wife are buried in the back yard of Tyler stone’s home. They are by the way, under the garage. The reason you moved to Knoxville...” I couldn’t believe it. How could he possibly know this? I could feel my blood pressure rising as he droned on.