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Vico Tedeschi was an opera singer and a mobster.

Latterly, he was the latter. He was a handsome man for his age, his hair almost all black and in perfect shape. But at sixty, his voice was not what it had been anymore. Deep and lush, of a quality few tenors attain, it could still make it through a recital for a wealthy private audience. But running around a stage for three or four hours, pretending to be a Romeo? That was no longer achievable, no.

On the other hand, inherited from his family, his mobster business had slowly taken over most of his time. Vico didn’t get involved too much in it at first. He was still in his prime and singing around the world. Still, little by little, his superiors and relatives succumbed to bullets, prison, or old age, and his status grew. Don Tedeschi had always been a decent manager, his own agent, and a successful one. In time, it was natural that talent went more toward La Cosa Nostra than his singing.

Sipping a glass of a single barrel Bourbon, whose name most mortals never hear, he gazed through the opened sliding windows of his apartment. It was autumn and a splendid evening. The lights of New York City shone over the auburn leaves of the trees of Central Park, jewels into the dusk. It was beautiful, save he was not in the mood to admire. He had a dilemma.

"It has to be done, Vico," said his guest. Ippolito, one of the big wigs of the Cosa Don Tedeschi managed. A colonel, if Vico was considered a general.

"Does it?"

Vico leaned forward to admire a colorful horse carriage passing on an alley. It reminded him of an opera prop in one of his best successful roles.

"Rules are rules," Ippolito said, a beginning of a disdainful smirk on his cheeks.

"You dare tell us the rules?" Brutus, Vico's bodyguard, returned the disdain with interest and a cold stare. "I have ten commandments just here," he patted his gun's holster. "For you and the idiot. It's your fault you didn't raise him better."

"Calm down, my friend," Vico raised his free hand, facing the audience. "We'll sort it out. Isn't it what we always do, Ippo?" he addressed the stout Italian.

"Yes, and I hate it," Ippolito shrugged, leaning backward on the couch's backrest and spreading his legs after an unsuccessful tentative at crossing them. He was too fat for that. "But it's working; I'll give it to you."

"How much money did you steal from me, Angelo?"

"I borrowed it. A hundred grand."

The young man's pretty face showed an evident lack of understanding and intelligence as he put his foot in his mouth.

"Borrowed is when the plan pays. You lost it."

"Like every stupid shit with a Leonardo di Caprio face out there," Brutus yelled. "You dumb cockroach."

"Who'd known the horse had a cold," Angelo mumbled.

"And Adelina, my maid, who fancies you, although her interest is unrequited, found out. But instead of telling me, she replaced a few diamonds from my secret stash with Swarovskis and offered to help. Right, Angelo?"

"In his defense, he told me everything in the hour," Ippolito said. "And I told you. And paid the cash back," the man pointed to a thick envelope on the coffee table. "With interest."

"In the end, no harm was done. So why do you insist we kill the girl?"

"Rules are the rules. I know you have a soft heart, Vico, but she's as good as dead. Angelo's fiancee found out. And her brother is you know who."

"Ah, yes... Him..." Vico took a sip from the glass, walking back and forth. "You give me a tough choice, Ippolito. If I spare Angelo– don't wave your hand, kid, just shut up–other hotheads will do the same. They'll think: I'm luckier, smarter, or have a safer bet. On the other hand, if I kill him, you and your friends will wait for my slightest mistake to turn the Cosa against me. And if I don't take care of Adelina, I'll look weak."

"You already look weak, but you're smart and make good money for the Cosa. We have peace with the Belini... Why risk it all for a straniera?"

"We all were immigrants at some point. Why crush her dreams and life for a little mistake?"

"No, they're not sleeping together," Vico could hear Angelo whispering to his uncle. "She's ugly. The Boss is just a softie."

"Enough!" Vico yelled, and he meant it also for Brutus, who was already raising his hand to the holster. "Let me think for a moment, and I'll give you my decision."

He went again to the window, looking at the sunset. The aroma and the high-proof flavors of the Bourbon made him a little dizzy and sleepy.

The right thing would be to kill them and spare the girl, he thought. But how many would die in a civil war, then? He let out a deep sigh, touching the window with his forehead. It's so unfair...

I can help. If you want.

It took Vico a second to realize the offer had been spoken in his head.

"Dio mio!" he jerked, stepping back.

Nope. Nor the bad guy either. Keep your wits, man, the voice spoke on. If you appear insane, your own guy might brain you. Let's say I'm an... extraterrestrial entity. It will suffice for now. Trust me, and I'll give you a way out.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Are you OK, Vico?" Brutus asked. "You're trembling."

You have twenty seconds to ensure your survival by speaking some sense. Take the girl and go to your mountain lodge. Be there by midnight. Ten... nine... eight...

“We'll take her to the mountains and do the necessary. Brutus, call us a cab."

The bodyguard nodded and took out his phone. A cab meant a helicopter, and the Cosa had its own flying company, among other businesses.

"When?"

AS

"ASAP," Vico spoke over the voice in his head.

Ask for a big one, the voice said, and Don Tedeschi relayed the message.

"It will be at the helipad in half an hour."

"Now leave us," Vico ordered Ippolito and his protégée. "And light a candle to your Saint Patron."

The courier shivered. With his index and middle fingers united Brutus jerked up his hand, mimicking a headshot. After the two left, Vico offered his bodyguard a glass.

"Drink with me. Like a friend."

"If you say so."

"I do. We're together for what? Ten years? "

"Uh... yes? Wow... Goodbye, Irish Whiskey. I'm switching to this shit."

"I failed her... Adelina. If I had built a real relationship with her, she would have asked for help instead of stealing."

"True."

"Aren't you supposed to say something to make me feel better? Like, you did your best, Vico?"

"Still, it's the truth, isn't it? At least, I'll take care she will not feel a thing."

Of course, she will not. We're saving her, remember? The voice spoke again in Vico's head. Hurry on with that chopper.

"Get her out of the closet, untied. We have to hurry."

When the bodyguard returned, followed by the girl, her lowered head showed resignation.

"I'm sorry," she whispered with a heavy Hispanic accent. "You've been kind to me, Don Vico... I betrayed your trust. Do what you must do," she averted her eyes. The Don shrugged and went toward the exit door.

"Grab the emergency suitcase, Brutus. I think it's better not to let it hang around anymore. And put that envelope in it, if we're at that."

The awkward silence sounded even more uncomfortable in the elevator due to the soft music. In the car, the discomfort was even more intense. While Brutus drove, Vico and Adelina sat in the back.

"Where are you from? Argentina?" he asked at some point, to break the silence.

"Bronx," she replied, her eyes looking through the window, taking in the lights of the Big Apple for the last time.

He bit his lower lip, regretting his gaffe, and let her be. Rush hour was over, and they reached the Helipad in due time. The chopper was much larger than expected. Brutus jerked, surprised.

"What the heck is this?"

It's perfect. Hurry.

"It's perfect. Get in."

In the next minute, they went inside, strapped in, put the headphones on, and the aircraft took off. The pilot turned to them and waved.

"Like it? New acquisition. I was there when you called, and I thought: what the heck, let's surprise you and come with the big guns! She's Elizabeth, by the way, my new co-pilot." The co-pilot turned and waved as well. She was an attractive young woman. Vico realized that the pilot had chosen the helicopter to make an impression on her, not him. Brutus reiterated his previous question.

"What the fuck is this thing?"

"A second-hand Super-Puma. There are a lot of team building events taking air tours now. This is the only thing able to fit them inside."

Hurry! You have to be there before midnight. Ask them to stay.

"Push it as fast as you can. I want us to arrive before midnight. And by the way, you two will be our guests for the night."

In his inner self, Vico begun to think he was mad and at peace with it. His voice's cheerfulness and the pilots' laughs and giggles made Adelina burst into tears. Elizabeth, the co-pilot, turned to her, furrowing her brows.

"You're OK?"

The maid nodded a yes but continued sobbing.

"No, she's not OK at all," Vico said. "The man she loves betrayed her. Took everything from her to the last hope. She's a wreck."

"Oh, dear! I'm so sorry!"

The sobs intensified, and they tried to ignore the girl more or less.

"Here," Vico offered a pill and a bottle of water. "It's a mild sedative. I used to take it against stage fright."

The sobs diminished in the next fifteen minutes, and the emotions combined with the pill made her fall asleep. They reached Vico's mansion in the White Mountains in another two hours. The Helipad on the back lawn was lit; someone was waiting for them. Vico patted Adelina's hand, waking her, and went out first. The man waiting outside saluted them first.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Alex. My son, Alex," he explained to the pilots before turning to his son. "They're Elizabeth and Ryan. You know Adelina and Brutus."

"Follow me," Alex said. "I've ordered pizza. It will be here in ten minutes tops.." Unshaved, shabby-chic dressed, and with a ponytail, he was the exact opposite of his father.

Adelina sat appart, hesitating. She was not sure what was to follow. If the walk in the woods would be now or later.

Tell her she's safe, the voice interrupted its long silence.

"Come. Let's have dinner," Vico pulled her by the arm. "Don't worry, we won't hurt you; you have my word."

"Did you call Alex on the way?" Brutus asked him on their way to the house. "I didn't notice..."

"Yes, my friend. I've texted him."

They reached the main open space, as luxurious as it could be, an area of at least a hundred square meters, with a piano on one side and the dining table on the other, plus sofas, armchairs– all leather–and expensive paintings on the walls. The pizza was generic, but the wine, on the other hand, was one of the best. It was not the expensive wine rich snobs buy, but an exquisite and reasonably priced wine an artist would learn to choose in time.

"Quite a nice house you have!" Elizabeth complimented him. "Must've cost you quite a lot of concert fees!"

While Brutus almost choked on the wine, Vico smiled and explained with calm.

"My fees weren't so big, you know. Two-three grand tops. The money comes from family businesses."

Alex picked up the remote control and switched on the wide-screen T.V. All channels showed only one thing: the Mars landing of the latest probe. It was due at midnight, which meant soon, but for now, the cameras showed images of the planet from the mother ship. They moved to the oversized couch and armchairs surrounding a coffee table to see better. Vico brought a rolling bar, letting each one choose his own poison.

"Vico, are you sure about it?" Brutus asked in a low voice while DonTedeschi poured another single-barrel Bourbon for them.

"I'm most certain. This is even better."

"Not that. The girl. She... I don't know why, but I don't have the heart for it... I can drive her to Canada before morning... if you let me."

Vico nodded, squeezing his shoulder.

"You're a good man, Brian," he used the bodyguard's real name. "I feel the same. I already told her she'll be safe. What's that thing again?"

The question was addressed to the others. Vico's son was the first to reply.

"The first terraforming probe we ever sent on Mars. A test. If it works, thousands will follow. In a few decades, humans will live up there. It's operated by a quantum computer, and the broadcasting is live. It's the first-ever quantum entanglement transmission. A historical mo–"

"The probe had launched," Elisabeth pointed at the screen.

All, including Adelina's, turned to the T.V. The red planet grew in size, and the probe landed flawlessly. While the commentators were doing their business, talking nonsense, the lights went off.

"Shoot, a blackout!" Ryan deplored. "Just when it was getting interesting!"

"I'll get some candles," Alex said, using his phone as a torchlight. "Hey, the mobile network's also down," he noticed.

Goodbye, my friend. And hello again.

Shining blue letters appeared before Vico's eyes as soon as the words were spoken.

!!!WELCOME TO THE SYSTEM!!!