THE RUNNER/SCREENPLAY, BRIAN R. LUNDIN [best classic books to read .txt] 📗

pacing around the room.

REGGIE
Well, I been doing some research and all those men who died, died a terrible death, like being attacked by some large beast, and all of those deaths revolved around Jerome McLemore, so I would suggest you watch yourself, Jerome might have a protector called a Diablesse.

The mention of the word Diablesse shocked Vito, as he remembered his conversation with the Gary Fire Chief.

VITO
Yeah, right that a bunch of Nigra bullshit.

Vito voice was weak but he regained his composure and apparently got control of himself or wearing off the worse of his fury, he sat back down. Commander Hollis got up from his desk and stood over Vito.

HOLLIS,
Remember what I said, Vito, stay out of my district and stop fucking with the policy people.

Vito sat quietly as Jimmy drove away from the 2nd District.

VITO
Where do you think we can find something out about that Diablesse bullshit?

JIMMY
Fuck if I know what about a priest?

VITO
Yeah, they should know about all that Nigger magic bullshit, let’s go see Father Alfredo.

EXT. ST. VINCENT CATHOLIC CHURCH GARDEN-AFTERNOON

Father Alfredo the pastor of St. Vincent Catholic Church located in the patch had been the pastor as long as Vito and Jimmy could remember and he always looked like an old man. Like most Italians, Vito and Jimmy were devout Catholics, although they did not attend mass very often. However, Jimmy and Vito aways contributed to the church. Sister Angelina led Jimmy and Vito into the garden where Father Alfredo was trimming some rose bushes he glanced up.

FATHER
Vito Paligreno and Jimmy Tortoreno!

Jimmy and Vito helped the old Father to his feet and warmly hugging the two men.

You boys are a little early for mass and too late for confession.

VITO
Sit Father, please.

Vito helped the old man back to his chair and covered his legs with the blanket.


FATHER
Jimmy, look behind that bush there is a bottle of nice sherry in there hope you guys don’t mind drinking out the bottle.

Jimmy did as instructed and gave the bottle to the Father he took a long swig and passed the bottle to Vito who took a long swing and handed the bottle to Jimmy.

FATHER
You boys haven’t changed what can I do for you?

JIMMY
We need some advice, father, ever heard of a Diablesse?

Father Alfredo took another swig of wine and said nothing.

FATHER
What do you want to know?

VITO
What is it?

Father Alfredo put the bottle down beside his chair.

FATHER
Yes, I have heard of an entity called the Diablesse. When I was a young priest, the Holy Mother Church assigned me to a black, ignorant and poor village parish in Haiti. Although, many of the people had converted to Catholicism, they still practiced an ancient African religion known as Verdun or Voodoo. The landowners forbade them from practicing what they called a “heathen religion,” but that did not stop them. One of my parishioners, a beautiful young maiden was the priestess of this forbidden religion and her name was Madame Bourneis. One evening she took me to a Voodoo ceremony. Like I said, the landowners forbid the open worship of voodoo but they couldn’t stop them from practicing their religion when they were off from work. They held the ceremony during a full moon in a dense forest far from the main house. We arrived at the forest just after midnight. It was a cool night and the only illumination was from the moon. There must have been thirty or forty people gathered around a large fire. Young virile looking men were beating drums and young women were dancing, if in a trance. Their dancing was extremely sensuous and exciting. The young women eventually took off all their clothes and were naked. I knew being a servant of the Lord I should close my eyes, but I couldn’t, like I said, I was a young man. The people danced and put curses on a white landowner that mistreated and cheated them. He shorted them on their crops and had a reputation for raping the young girls and women. The purpose of the ceremony according to Madame Bourneis was to cast an evil spell on the landowner. Well, the dancers were dancing wildly and the drummers were furiously beating their drums, and everyone was shouting Diablesse, Diablesse. Suddenly, I heard a loud growl coming from the forest, I looked around for Madame Bourneis, but she was gone. I knew there were no big cats in Haiti but the sound was so loud and fierce, I knew it had to be some kind of large beast and I became afraid. Suddenly, in the moonlight I saw a woman walking out of the forest, because of the darkness I couldn’t get a good at the woman’s face. The village people started bowing and waiving as the woman emerged from the forest butt naked, and again, I knew I should cover my eyes, but I didn’t. Suddenly, this beautiful woman right before my eyes turned into a large black panther and returned to the forest. The next day Madame Bourneis told me that workers found the evil landowner dead in his big house. His entrails was missing, his stomach ripped open and he had bite marks on his throat. Madame Bourneis told me that the Diablesse was a sacred protector of the weak with supernatural powers.

VITO
You mean you actually saw this woman turn into an animal.
Vito was visibly shaken; yes I did the Father said and took another swig of Sherry.

Anthony Spocko and Michael Cordova sat in the kitchen and watched Pauli Gaza prepare the sauce for the pasta.

ANTHONY
(holding his head down)
I know that asshole Vito killed the boss he’s got to go. Respectfully Don Gaza, we want the contract on Vito.

Pauli knew that the two men were probably right about Vito’s involvement with the death of Vinnie, but he also knew that Vito was a “Made man.

PAULI
The code requires permission of the Commission to put out a murder contract on a made member. Vito is bringing too much heat, the firebombing, kidnappings and murders are getting to much attention, not only in the black press but the stories were now going nationwide.

Pauli continued stirring the red sauce boiling over a low flame.
This has got to be done quickly and quietly and under no circumstances can it come back on the family, understood?

Anthony and Michael nodded.

Understood!


EXT. VITO’S HOME-EVENING

For the next two weeks in June, Michael and Anthony stalked Vito and monitored his movements. They noted when he arrived and left his office, where he had dinner and when he went home. Vito usually left his office around 6:00 in the evening. He drove home, fed and played with his dog and around 6:30 he walked to the Restaurante Italian, a family owned restaurant in Oak Lawn, a block from his home. After dinner, he played a round or two of bocce ball with the old timers, left the restaurant around 8:00 PM and casually walked home. The two men watched as Vito entered the rear fenced in yard and stop to play with his dog. Vito surprisingly lived in an elegant two-story bungalow that sat far back on the grounds of a well–kept lawn. A short driveway led to brown oak double front doors, illuminated by antique gaslight lamps. A forested area with tall evergreen trees was a few feet from the back yard. It was 7:30 pm, the long fingers of a bolt of lightning flashed across a darkening sky and seemed to linger. A brisk wind blew across the cold silent lake, ruffling the trees and shrubbery. A loud clap of thunder followed another bright flash of lightening as another distant thunder rumbled. The air was moist and forecasted rain was on the way. Droplets of rain turned into sheets as the two men parked their car two blocks from Vito’s home. The men carefully surveyed the street and watched as the few people on the street hurried to get out of the cool night air, rain and retreat to their comfortable houses. Michael and Anthony waited. Anthony kept a clean, well oiled, Mossberg 500, 10 shot sniper rifle, outfitted with an ambient sniper scope in the trunk of his car. At 7:45, Michael popped the trunk, took out the weapon and loaded it with 10 heavy grain bullets. Michael’s long thin face was buried in the oily collar of a khaki Army raincoat replete with fading corporal stripes and his long black hair blew behind him like bike streamers. He put on a green camouflaged hunting vest over a green camouflaged army uniform and put ten more shells in the pocket and looped the leather sling over his shoulder. Michael had trained as a sniper at Fort Bragg during the Korean War and had ten confirmed kills to his credit before he was dishonorable discharge for fragging, or throwing a hand grenade at a sergeant. Anthony armed with an automatic shotgun loaded with ten rounds of double buckshot’s was ready and eager as they silently darted to the forested area. The two men patiently waited in the rear of Vito’s house. Anthony hid between two tall, fluffy evergreens; his weapon lay across the crook of his left arm. Periodically he closed his eyes, which were tearing badly in the wind and rain. Michael sprawled on the cold, wet ground his thin face serious and grave as he scanned the area through the night scope mounted on the stock of his sniper rifle. An eerie, orange-tinted light from the scope transformed darkness into light. Sheets of rain came in cool streaming torrents-making it nearly impossible to see. Michael’s face was so wet it was hard for him to stop his eyes from blinking. Rainwater was rushing off his forehead and rolling off his nose. A cluster of black flies zipped around his face and he instinctively swapped at them. Michael’s dark skin was getting red, as the wind grew stronger. His forehead was burning, but he loved the sensation of the hunt. While scanner the area, Michael thought about Vinnie Acosta. Michael’s mother, Marlina, once was a beautiful woman. She was dark haired and dark eyed and supported Michael by selling her body. When Michael was five, two Irish police officers came to his home where he lived with his grandmother; Marreana and he heard them tell her in an unsympathetic manner that Marlina had been killed by one of her “johns.” Vinnie Acosta was the overseer at one of Pauli’s whorehouses where Marlina worked and he adopted Michael and his sister Merna. Vinnie sent both children to the best Catholic schools and offered to send Michael to college; however Michael decided to join the Marines. After completing basic training Michael applied and was accepted into the Marine Corp Sniper Unit. The Sniper Unit was an elite unit. Only five percent of the applicants made it through the rigid physical and mental training school. The recruits learned how to conceal him in any type of terrain and Michael spent many days and nights concealed in freezing snow and scorching heat. He had laid in a concealed position in the Louisiana swamps, remaining perfectly still as a water moccasin with its flicking tongue crawled his over his body. “Control your breathing, your pulse rate must be between 60-70 ticks a minute, at 85 ticks the weapon will not remain sturdy against your body, at 90 ticks your