The Twelve Zenati Pt. 01

"Remy!" Serena screamed and struggled against the woman who held her firmly. The gunfire had stopped but the scene before her was chaotic and she couldn't see Remy or Kairos in the press of bodies around the altar where she had been standing. "Remy!" she screamed again, as the door closed on the chaos. Leila broke into a jog, making pain lance into Serena's side once again. It was excruciating and her vision blurred as she tried in vain to struggle, her energy waning.

Leila felt the moment when Serena passed out. She ran to one of the cars where the driver hadn't moved, as if totally ignorant of what was happening inside the chapel. She reefed open the door and bundled Serena inside, making him shout in alarm and pull earbuds from his ears.

"Hospital now!" Leila shouted, pulling her own gun from its hidden holster and threatening the driver. Guns were rare in this part of the world, and being threatened with one, even in this organisation, was rarer still. The man gunned the engine and drove. Leila looked at the growing red stain on the white dress and fear gripped her. She had one job, keep this girl safe, and until she heard otherwise, that's what she was going to do.

*****

Kairos looked down on the man he had loved and respected for most of his life. They'd been blindsided by an enemy within their own ranks, an enemy they had seriously underestimated. Even surrounding himself with men that he believed loyal to him on this day had not protected him enough. The girl was his weak spot, she had made him vulnerable. Kairos's mood darkened as he held his hands over the bullet wound in Remy's chest trying to staunch the blood. There was no way to avoid the hospital and the life-saving surgery he needed. They would have to deal with the fall-out of that once his life was saved. For now, though, he needed to gather those he knew he could trust and exact vengeance, before they made another move.

Jay was next in line in Remy's organisation, his kingdom, as he liked to refer to it. He would take the necessary steps to ensure Remy's survival and the survival of all he built. That meant working with Jay and ridding Remy of all of his vulnerabilities, the weak spots in his armour. Kairos watched as Leila grabbed the girl and ran. He had no idea whether she, too, had been hit or if it was just a precautionary measure. He hoped that the hail of bullets had taken care of that problem for him. Remy was his priority. Everything else would have to wait.

"If we wait for an ambulance he'll die. Let's get him out of here," Jay said at his elbow, and he nodded curtly.

"I'll need help," Kairos said through gritted teeth, holding back his rage and feelings of despair at Jay's words.

"We know," Jay said, gently pulling Kairos hands away, as another man with his shirt wadded into a ball took his place, placing the shirt over the wound and staunching the flow far better than Kairos had. "Trust us. We will get him where he needs to be. You need to look to yourself. I need you now, and you are hurt too."

The following minutes were a blur in the nightmare that assailed Kairos, and it wasn't until Remy had been whisked away by doctors and surgeons at the hospital that his head began to clear. He looked at the men who had helped him get Remy this far, alive. They looked at him expectantly. While they all held key roles in the organisation, it was Kairos who knew every nuance of Remy's life and plans for the future. It was he that would have to ensure Jay's temporary leadership and permanent leadership if the worst happened. His stomach clenched at the thought of losing Remy, and he squashed it down, putting all the terrifying and weakening feelings in a box at the back of his mind. He straightened his shoulders. He knew what needed to be done and he would do it. This was his kingdom now, as Jay floundered in the wake of what had happened. Kairos directed two men to stay at the hospital for word of Remy and his surgery. The rest he directed to the compound where they could safely talk and plan retribution, and his own minor wounds could be seen to. The man had been aiming for Remy alone, everyone else was just collateral damage.

He took a few moments alone to call Leila and find out what had happened to Serena before the men asked him. She, too, had been injured, but not as bad, and was recovering in the hospital. Leila had been answering the questions, giving the least amount of information she could. They were at the wedding saying their vows when a madman came in shooting. She had no idea why or what happened to anyone else. She had just grabbed Serena and rushed her to the hospital. She was the maid of honour, after all, and the closest person to her. Satisfied that Serena would know little else apart from that story, Kairos had been content to leave her as she was while he dealt with the most pressing issues.

It seemed to Kairos that someone had forewarned the Zenati family that they had been targeted, and the hit had gone wrong from the moment the men arrived. Two of the team had been taken out immediately, while a third was injured. The other men had come looking for justice for their fallen comrades. Remy had sent men that he knew were working to undermine his authority, and they held him responsible. He'd sent the men who had killed his brother, and they had believed him when he said that he could trust no others to get the job done. They believed themselves, and those of their faction, better than him and his desire to lead the organisation's northern tribes with a soft touch rather than an iron fist.

Remy's weakness, though, was Serena. He had taken his hand from the tiller, given others greater responsibility as he spent an inordinate amount of time brainwashing the stupid bimbo. Kairos sneered as he thought of Serena and the change that she had wrought in Remy. She had to go, but he had to do it in such a way that no finger of blame could ever be pointed at him. Having her killed was too messy, especially with Leila's almost obsessive watching-over her. Too many things could go wrong, too many mistakes could be made.

In the small hours of the morning, he got up and went to Remy's office and opened the safe. Just as he assumed, there was a file marked with her name in there. He took it out. He knew all of the information, or at least he thought he did, but in search of inspiration, he sat at the table and read every last detail, a plan forming in his mind. Then the phone rang, and another problem took priority.

*****

Genesis Zenati sat in the waterfront dive, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. His family were still recovering from the shock of a nationwide attack on the twelve Tables, including their own. If not for the few minutes of pre-warning they had received, they could have lost their heart and fire. He should be with his brothers, investigating every lead they had. Members of the mysterious Tatar Dynasty were due to arrive this evening to help with the investigation, and the federal police had already been in contact because the leaders of the Vitali were now being cared for by his family. Yet here he was, sitting and waiting in the most unpleasant dive that he had ever visited in this town, because his curiosity had gotten the better of him again.

The fact that the priest who contacted him with the lead for a story related to his family had wanted to meet here, of all places, had intrigued him even more than the small amount of information that the priest had given him. To say it was squalid was kind. The place needed to be condemned. He's ordered a beer. He could see bottles through the dirty glass of the refrigerator and refused the offer a glass. Taking a seat at one of less damaged tables, he had settled in to wait for his mysterious source.

He watched the flow of customers, not seeing anyone who looked particularly priest-like, and let his mind wander. He was an award-winning journalist. He had the respect of his colleagues and a commitment to his family Table now. He didn't need to be chasing leads like this anymore, but the hint that the story had something to do with his family kept him where he was, watching the door and waiting impatiently.

One of the bikers he'd seen come in earlier, dressed all in black leather, walked up to his table and stood for a moment. Genesis craned his neck to look at the tall, muscular guy and raised an eyebrow.

"Genesis Zenati?" the big man questioned.

"Yeah, what of it?" he returned with a shrug, prepared to show this guy that he was not intimidated by his size and demeanour.

"I'm Father Bob Rossi," he said, taking a seat and smirking at the surprise on the other man's face. Announcing his vocation often had that effect on people.

"Well, that's a surprise," Genesis chuckled, not hiding the fact that the man was not what he had been expecting.

"I get that a lot. Look, thanks for meeting here. It's not the greatest of places, but I'm hoping to confirm some of the information I was given for you, here," he said. "Part of the story I found out for myself before calling you. I just can't get much further without assistance, and I was warned that the police would be no help, because of the people involved."

"You have my attention," Genesis said.

"Good, because I think a young woman is in great danger, and if we are going to save her we have to move fast, and I knew you would want proof. So here we are."

"Slow down and start from the beginning, shall we? Who is in danger and why are you all cloak-and-dagger about it? You're a priest, not a secret agent. Aren't you?" Genesis asked and narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, here," an obviously angry man stepped up to their table and shoved a thin sheaf of papers at Bob. "Go preach somewhere else, your holiness," he sneered. "If you come back, I may not be so virtuous."

"God bless you, Toby. The church door is always open to the virtuous as well as the not-so-virtuous," he chuckled and turned to Genesis with a wink. "Shall we walk for a while? I believe the air in here is more than a little stale."

"Sounds unbelievably good to me," Genesis chuckled, amused by the odd man who called himself a priest. Once outside, however, he demanded answers. "Enough cloak-and-dagger bullshit, tell me why I am here."

"A man came into my confessional room. We have couches and talk face-to-face these days, but there's a screen for those who don't want to look at the confessor. The choice is theirs when they enter," Bob began, but could see the other man's jaw working in frustration. "This man, who told me about the young woman, wanted the screen of anonymity before he told me that six months ago, a young woman was living down here on a broken-down old boat at the end of the docks. She had no friends or family and was quite alone in the world, like a lost lamb. She worked at that dive we were just in, as a bartender," he said and handed Genesis the employee records that he had wheedled from the owner after threatening to come each day and attempt to convert his customers.

"I see," Genesis glanced at the name and raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

"She came under the eye of a powerful man named Royce who took her, though I am not clear on the details of that. The man who told me said she went willingly in the beginning, but only because of something traumatic she had witnessed. Royce then systematically destroyed her old life and identity. The boat was apparently put into long-term storage here and is accessible, but I don't have that sort of clout in these parts. Maybe you do, if you need more proof of her real identity."

"Why would I need proof?" Genesis was once again losing the thread of the story.

"Royce, as I said, systematically destroyed her old life. He created a new identity for her, and through the use of drugs, torture and other less savoury things, brainwashed her to believe that a new identity was who she truly was. She was about to marry him when she was injured," Bob explained.

"Less savoury than torture?" Genesis asked, not even imagining what could be worse.

"I guess that depends on your point of view," he said with a sad smile.

"So, this girl went willingly with this guy and he abused her trust. She was living here in this cesspit, and he took her and gave her a brand-new, I am assuming better, Life. So why tell me? Just because her last name is the same as a well-known family, who happen to be my cousins? She might have run away from them for a reason. Or not be related at all. Trust me, I know that family and none of their daughters would willingly live here on a broken-down boat."

"You're an investigative reporter. You have done exposes to shut down drug rings and human trafficking. You aren't the least bit interested in saving a girl who was drugged, tortured, turned into a sex slave and now lies in the hospital with her chance of escaping that life slipping away from her as we speak?" Bob challenged him. "The only reason I even got those work files is that the miscreant that owned that bar planned to blackmail Royce with them and hid the copies when Royce's men came and destroyed any evidence that she once worked there. The dock manager too, seems scared, when asked about the girl or the boat she owned."

"So, this Royce, does he have a last name?" Genesis asked.

"Royce was what the man who confessed used. That man was also the one who told me that I should contact you and tell you the story. I think he wants someone to help the girl get away. I went to the hospital. I couldn't get near her for the security around her, but I found out two things. Serena Seabrook, a.k.a. Olivia Gambaro, was about to marry Remington Royce. Remington Royce was also injured on his wedding day and is lying in a coma in the same hospital."

"Remington Royce," Genesis breathed. He had been trying to get some dirt on that man for years, but he was Teflon, nothing stuck to him. Each time he investigated a story Remington Royce was a name of interest. This time he may just be able to get the upper hand on the man and prove he was part of an organised crime family known as the Suebi. "In that case, let me give you a lift to the hospital, and I will make sure you get to see her," he said, surprising Father Bob with his quick turnabout. "I would very much like to meet the woman who could bring down Remington Royce's carefully-stacked house of cards. You are right to be concerned because he is the devil incarnate, and I truly believe he would have dragged that young woman into hell with him."

*****

"I've already told you that the girl doesn't need a priest," Leila practically snarled as the two men approached the room where Serena lay.

"And I told you I would be back," Bob said amiably, in the face of her hostility.

"Pleasure to meet you," Genesis said in a congenial way and held out his hand. "I am Genesis Zenati. My uncle is the hospital administrator, and he informs me that no paperwork has been filed to allow private security in this ward of the hospital., So, unless you would like me to have you arrested for any number of misdemeanours, I suggest you step aside and help us with our inquiries."

"Good to see you again, Mr Zenati," a nurse smiled as she entered the room as if on cue, making him smile. He could see the woman weigh up her loyalties as she considered whether being arrested was worth protecting her charge.

"Alright, but don't upset her in any way. Her fiancé is very protective of her," Leila said, through gritted teeth, as if it pained her to give anyone but the few approved nurses and doctors access to the young woman. Leila knew the girl wouldn't respond to anyone without the keywords to make her understand that they were safe to deal with, but she hated the thought that she would be the one in trouble for allowing her to be disturbed so often.

"Father Bob Rossi is the name, in case you want to report my being here to your boss," Bob said cheerily as he walked into the room ahead of Genesis to meet the young woman he had worried about for the last twenty-four hours.

Genesis said nothing as he followed Bob into the room. He couldn't see the girl around the nurse taking observations, and he moved toward the wall next to the bed to wait and observe Bob talk to her, before making any decisions about what he would do personally. This seemed to be Bob's show for now, and he was just along for the ride and to help him uncover the story as well as, hopefully, get some dirt on Remington Royce. He glanced around the room for a clue as to the personality of the woman. There were no flowers, no get-well cards, no personal items at all, and he frowned. Surely, the fiancée of such a well-known and generous man, as Royce was reported to be, deserved some sort of cheerfulness as she recovered from her injuries.

His gaze went back to the bed, now that his view was unobstructed, and it was as if time froze. His heartbeat throbbed loudly in his ears and his gut twisted as if he'd been knifed. The pain travelled up his gut into his chest, and he lifted a hand to his heart feeling as if it was going to stop. The muscles of his heart contracted, sending out radiating pain as he gazed at her. Then she turned her head to look at him. When their eyes locked, he felt as if the pain would split him apart as the sea green eyes held his for long minutes before she turned her head back and stared straight up at the ceiling, ignoring both himself and Bob.

"She doesn't talk to anyone but the pit bull, Leila, who can sometimes get her to talk, but more often than not, it is merely to say that she needs the bathroom," the nurse said when Bob tried to cajole the girl into talking to him.

Genesis remained silent, just watching the scene before him, his hand slowly dropping from where he had clutched it to his chest just moments before. He felt weak and shaken. The pain had subsided but he couldn't understand what had just happened to him. He could explain it if he believed in superstitions and gypsy magic like so many in his family, but he didn't. Did he? He moved closer to the bed and really looked at the petite, young woman lying there. She was beautiful, he acknowledged. Even here, with her hair tousled, no makeup and a hospital gown that slipped from her shoulders too easily, she was still one of the most attractive women he had seen. The golden glow of her hair and fine features made her beautiful in an ethereal way. She was, as Bob said, a lost lamb and he knew that he wanted to help her, had to help her, to find her way back from whatever hell Remington Royce had subjected her to.

*****