Forty-Three
“It is an unfortunate thing, but do what you must to protect yourselves.” Anthony Sorrell hung up the cell phone. He stared thoughtfully off into space about what he had just been informed. Circumstances had altered his plans a bit, but such was the nature of their business.
“All done, Mister Sorrell,” a quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. The Janitor stepped back and allowed Anthony Sorrell to examine his work. Or, to be more precise, he allowed the mob boss to examine the absence of his work.
Sorrell did not hurry his examination. He slowly went over every inch of the area. At one point he paused to kneel and gather a closer look.
The sleepy-eyed gentleman was not insulted by the close perusal. He felt quite the opposite, in fact. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to truly appreciate the job he did. Over time, he had become so skilled in his craft that the lengths he went to in order to be successful were often unappreciated.
‘The Janitor' was spoken of in reverent whispers among the ‘Family'. He was the son of an illiterate Italian immigrant who had made his way to America from Umbria. The determined father had worked endless hours to earn the money to send his son to one of the finest universities America had to offer. It was there, in the Department of Biological Sciences, that the son had learned the basis of his craft.
Now the heads of the families routinely called upon ‘The Janitor' when there was a mess to clean up. A dismembered body, a bloody shootout… all were simple tasks for the man many considered a kind of magician.
“This is another testament to your mastery,” Anthony Sorrell declared sincerely. There was no trace of the blood Marco had so freely bled upon the chair, table and kitchen floor. There would also soon be no trace of Marco Sant ‘Omero's dead body. “Thank you. I will, of course, be quite generous with my appreciation.”
“As always,” the Janitor replied. He nodded once in Sorrell's direction and then led his crew from the room.
Anthony Sorrell retrieved his folder and spread its contents out across the newly cleaned table. The matter of Marco's betrayal and his death were pushed from Sorrell's mind. His focus was now on Sonny Corinthos and the matter at hand.
One by one, he examined the high color photographs from the folder. The photographs of the older woman he only glanced at before sliding them back into the cream colored folder. He spent several moments admiring the pictures of the young Assistant District Attorney, though. Anthony Sorrell had a particular fondness for beautiful young women, and the Jensen woman was a looker.
After a few moments the mob boss added the young woman's photos to the others in the folder. Women and children would play no part in the battle against Sonny Corinthos, not unless Corinthos made it so.
Reluctantly, Sorrell also added the photos of the tall Port Charles police detective to those in the folder. Though it was true that Marcus Taggert had a family connection to Sonny Corinthos, the bad blood between the two men made that fact useless. Neither man would go out of his way to protect the other.
