The Birth of an Assassin

By Tony Bertot and Angela Kay

This prequel to The Heart of an Assassin takes you to the beginning and exposes you to what made the Assassin who he is.

Follow his life as a young boy growing up on the streets of post war Chicago. His carefree innocence is shattered by a ruthless crime family whose rise is determine by the money they steal through extortion.

Witness how in an attempt to escape the streets of Chicago his mother returns to Sicily where they are faced with a Nazi occupied city prior to the American and British invasion.

A Nazi commandant befriends the boy in order to get closer to his beautify mother. He teaches the boy how to shoot and is amazed with his quick ability to learn and his uncanny accuracy. With every lesson the boys becomes more and more accurate and unwittingly the commandant is giving the boy the hammer to the nails to his own coffin.

The boy returns to Chicago seeking revenge but instead falls in love. But once again, life as we know it, is not for the young man and he force do what he does best.

The characters come alive before your very eyes and find yourself wanting more and not able to put the book down.

The assassin becomes a force to be reckon with and a legend to those in the underworld.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456609559

Tony Bertot

I was born and raised in New York City. In 1964 I joined the Navy and was honorably discharge four years later. In 2008 I retired after 32 1/2 years with HSBC. For the past 18 years I lived in Cheektowaga New York and in 2010 moved to Surprise Arizona where I currently reside. Though I published my first book in April of 2009 I have been telling stories most of my life. My kids and their friends were my captivated audiences. I loved watching their faces as their characters (usually contained them as part of the story) came to life in my stories. Recently finished my 4th book, Hell Train. Read Tony Bertot's Assassin Trilogy which consist of the following: The Heart of an Assassin The Birth of an Assassin The Legacy of the Assassin Both reviewers and readers have given me great reviews.

Book preview

The Birth of an Assassin

A

Novel by

Tony Bertot

Contents

The Gresco Family7

The Costellino Family21

United We Stand27

Theodosio and Nick Meet32

Anzio Costello40

Sabrisio Family43

An Unlikely Friendship48

Davino Falls in Love53

Bolnaldo Headquarters55

First Communion60

Loss of Innocence62

A Quick Departure67

Somewhere in Queens68

The Crossroads of Reality72

What is Left Behind75

Building an Empire81

Secrets Revealed83

In News Today88

The Interview92

Funeral of a Mobster97

The Gathering101

A Prayer Answered115

Retribution119

A Home at War123

A Witness128

Long Term Planning134

A Spy Among Us140

Equality for All148

A Nail in Harold Kaiser’s Coffin157

A Change of Plans166

Rumors run Rampant169

The Baptism of an Assassin175

Know Your Enemies183

Breaking News193

South Wabash198

The Wabash Pub203

Good Behavior210

Down Memory Lane221

Reconciliation229

A Little History233

A Family Gathering254

The Call to Bolnaldo263

A Ray of Sunshine266

A Warning279

Bolnaldo Sends a Message283

Ricardo Gallo284

Ships Passing in the Night288

Ulterior Motive293

Theo & Sylvia297

Over the Next Four Months314

Missing323

Bolnaldo Gets the Call330

Join the Military335

Bugs to the Left, Bugs to the Right341

The Warning344

Bolnaldo’s Retaliation364

Checks and Balances of Life372

Gruesome Discovery381

Goodbye Chicago, Goodbye Sylvia383

Fazio’s Revenge392

You’re in the Army Now399

Bolnaldo is Warned408

The Return of Theo and Nick416

Al Giovanna (R.I.P.)439

Fazio Giordano/Nick Costello/Theodore Gresco442

Old Friends/Planning Stages448

End of a Life/Beginning of an Another454

La Familia

To Mom whose unconditional love, carefree humor and everlasting support keep the breath of our family constant and strong.

She is the heart and we are her legacy.

And to those who have passed and will always walk in the shadows of our lives;

Eduado Maximiliano Bertot LLanusa

Gertrudis Salvadora Barcelo LLoret

Roumaldo Fernando Cordova Soto

Maria Manuela Genova Muniz

Antonio Bertot Barcelo

An author without readers is like a boat without a propeller.  Readers propel authors to write more and improve with every book.

I am indebted to all my readers but especially to those listed below; my support group without whom this novel may never have been read. 

My heartfelt thanks.

—————————— >—————

The Gresco Family

Little Italy/Chicago, June 1942

The war in Europe continued to escalate as the United States prepared to enter the war in retaliation to the December 7th attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese.  The war forced the United States to begin the rationing of food, gasoline and other commodities.

Running south to north, South Wabash Avenue was lined on both sides with bakeries, butcher shops, fruit and vegetable stands, and clothing stores, all situated at the street level of four-story apartment buildings. The avenue was alive with activity from 7:30am when stores opened, until dusk when all stores closed because of the ever-present threat of an enemy aerial attack. Every few days the sirens would disturb the night’s silence resulting in the dimming of all streetlights as people pulled down their shades. From an aerial night view, Chicago would disappear.

On the corner of South Wabash & 11th street, you could hear the paperboy every morning and afternoon shouting, Extra, extra, read all about it bringing the latest news on the war and any other major stories to everyone within earshot.

All of which was transparent to eight-year-old Theodosio Gresco (Theo) as he raced and darted between the crowds of pedestrians that cluttered the streets of the Chicago area known as Little Italy.  The shoppers-mostly women - looked to buy their groceries for the day before heading off to the city’s war factories.  In the afternoon, the pedestrians consisted of military men -Navy personal ready to hit the nearby bars or eateries.  By the end of the day, the crowd transformed to women and men returning home from work, picking up last - minute necessities.

During the summer, the local elementary school provided breakfast and a recreational area for the neighborhood kids where they hung out while their parents worked. Unlike other kids, Theo’s parents worked in the neighborhood and as a result the folks who ran the school knew Theo would be out the door by midday.

On this particular day, Theo was anxious to get home, pick up his camera and the film he had taken to be developed. Running east on 9th street he turned south onto South Wabash Avenue, entered Building 915 and raced up two flights of stairs and into his apartment.

Mama, I’m home, he shouted to his mother.

Lucia Gresco was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, a pail of water next to her.  She glanced back at her son as he darted into his room at the rear of the apartment.

I see that, she responded smiling as she knelt and sat back on her legs.

How was school?  Did you eat all of your breakfast? she shouted out to him.

Good.  Yes, but I have to go and see Papa about making my pictures for me, he answered, racing for the door.

Hey, you didn’t give your mama a hug!  You come and go.  That’s it? You don’t love your old mama anymore? she teased him.

I’m sorry, Mama, he answered, and hurried to her and hugged her as she remained on her knees.

He now stood a head above her as he bent down and hugged her.

I love you Mama, he responded, released his hug, grabbed his Brownie c1915 box camera, and ran out the door.

You be careful crossing the street!  Lucia shouted after him.

Theo had received the camera as a gift on his last birthday.  Keeping your hand steady, you aim and shoot, his father instructed him.

Since, he had seldom been without the black box camera hanging from his neck.  He would race up and down the street taking pictures of anything and everything - neighbors, friends, and strangers - no one was spared.

Click.

Whirr. He wound the film to the next frame.

Click.

Whirr.

Sounds his parents got used to while he took his pictures.  At one point, his father had to scold him for taking pictures of people who did not want their picture taken.  Soon Theo learned how to take pictures without being spotted and as a result, he had images of almost everyone in a two-block radius.  Shots of schoolmates, people’s pets, and strangers who never noticed him snap.  He had boxes of pictures under his bed of the entire neighborhood and almost every stranger who had passed through the area within the last six months.

As he scurried down the stairs, he looked into the count viewer noting that he had three pictures left before the roll would run out.

Got to take three more pictures before I am able to wind up the film and give it to Papa, he thought to himself.

Theo headed towards his Papa’s shop, located on the corner of South Wabash and 11th Street; he walked looking around for a good shot, when across the street he spotted two older boys walking ahead of him.  Running, he waited on the next building’s stoop and aimed his camera, when the boys were almost adjacent to him, he snapped.

Whirr.  He wound the film and continued his trek up South Wabash.  About one quarter block ahead, he saw Mrs. Garcia stacking fruits on her stand and took the picture.

One more to go, he thought to himself.

He reached the corner of 11th and South Wabash and noticed his father outside speaking to an older boy.  Papa was holding the boy by his right elbow, while shaking a finger at him.

Click.

Whirr. Theo wound his camera.

His father looked up in time to see his son winding his camera.

Papa! he shouted to him as he ran towards him.

Theo, papa smiled.

What mischief have you been up to? he asked him.

Nothing Papa, I’ve been good today, he responded smiling.

His father turned to the boy and released him, sending him on his way running.

Who was that, Papa? Theo asked.

His name is Nick Costello, son of Anzio Costello, a prominent businessman here in our community.  I caught him trying to steal some candy sticks.  He should be ashamed of himself, having more than boys his age, responded Sergio Gresco.

Sergio Gresco and his wife Lucia migrated to the United States from Sicily some ten years ago.  He brought with him enough money to open a shop, where he sold tobacco, cigars, cigarettes, candy and some household goods.  Occasionally, it served as a soup kitchen.

The war had a huge impact on Sergio’s business as the rationing of sugar and other products required him to monitor what he sold.  Additionally, the War’s cost forced people to tighten their belts; those who were not in the military or working for companies that supplied materials to support the war were finding themselves going through hard times.  Once in a while, someone would try to steal from the store, causing Sergio to be more vigilant concerning the comings and goings of his customers.  Because he understood this, he was often generous to a fault. He extended credit when the situation warranted it, remembering what his father had told him years ago how life was during WWI, explaining we all need to do our share to help each other.

Papa, my camera has run out of film.  I need a new roll, Theo said.

Come on in and let’s see if I have anymore film for your precious camera.

The store was square with enclosed glass display rows running alongside opposite walls.  Atop of the displays were jars of different types of candy. Because of rationing, they were either empty or half-full.  The rows led customers to the Store’s center where they faced a three-foot high display counter.  Sergio managed his store from behind this counter for the better part of the day.  His wife Lucia would join him in the afternoon.  Theo also pitched in with little tasks that his father would assigned him; taking the trash out to the curb or stacking the lower shelves with the latest tobacco products, opening the lids allowing customers to see the cigars and newest pipes from all over the world.

In the backroom, Sergio had built a small dark room where he would develop Theo’s pictures.  It became a profitable side business and soon others were bringing their film to be developed.  Yes, though times were hard, Sergio managed to stay in the black and turn a modest profit every year.

Sergio removed the film, replaced it with a new roll, and handed the camera back to Theo.  Theo’s excitement was clear on his face as he rushed out of the store, now armed with twenty more clicks of ammunition.

In his excitement, he ran into two men who were entering as Theo raced out.

Whoa there, young man, one of the men said as he reached down and held Theo by his shoulders.

Got to go, Mister Theo responded.

The man released him and Theo raced out into the street.

Theo stopped at the entrance and looked back as the men went into the store.

Click.

Theo got them from the side.

The sound caused them both to turn but Theo was gone in a flash.

Sergio looked up and nodded at the two men as they approached the middle counter.

Mr. Gresco we are here representing a client who is interested in doing business with you, the taller of the two men said.

What business are you talking about, Sir? asked Sergio.

Well, my client offers protection to the local merchants from burglaries and break-ins, he explained.

Sergio stared at the two men for a few seconds.  He was tempted to grab the baseball bat that was leaning against one of the counters by his feet and bashing their heads in.

One of the men stood about six feet tall and appeared in good shape.  The other man was bulkier and stood around five feet seven.  Both were wearing dark suits with open white shirts.

How much will this protection cost? Sergio asked.

We figure about 20% of your profits should be about right the man responded.

Wow that is steep.  With things the way they are and the economy and all I don’t see how I would be able to pay.  I am sorry. I can’t afford to pay for your protection, Sergio responded.

The two men stared back at Sergio.  As one of them approached the counter, Sergio looked the man right in the eye as he tightened his grip on the handle of the bat.

No, I am not interested in your client’s offer, Sergio told the man closest to him.

That’s too bad.  I am sure my client will be disappointed, he told Sergio.

Sergio brought the bat up onto the counter causing the closest man to step back.  The other man reached into his jacket as if reaching for a holstered weapon.

Click.

Whirr.

They all froze and turned to see Theo standing at the entryway staring at them.

A second later, they were looking back at Sergio, who had come around the counter wielding a baseball bat.

The man closest to Sergio smiled back at him and nodded.

Under the circumstances I hope you have not jumped to any final conclusions.  We are offering you a service at a reasonable rate.  We mean no harm and your well-being is our only concern.  But I see you have made up your mind, the man said nodding towards the bat Sergio was holding in his hands.

I hope it was in your best interest, the man added.

Sergio knew that he had to show them that he was not afraid, that he was not one to be intimidated, yet knowing that he had to be cautious.    This is America and there are laws protecting us from those who would try to extort money.  He also knew that the law often moved at a snails' pace and that these men did not come right out and threaten him.

By the time the men exited the shop Theo had crossed the street and at a safe distance -

Click.

Whirr.

Sergio appeared in the doorway a few seconds behind the men staring out at them as they got into a nearby 1938 Black La Salle V8.

Click.

Whirr.

Theo’s camera caught them as they entered their vehicle and drove off.

Click.

Whirr.

Another picture of the car caught as it headed south on South Wabash entered Theo’s collection.

Theo saw his father at the store’s doorway and took another picture.  By the time Theo looked up again his father had retreated into the store.  About a minute later, he saw his mother arrive.

Click.

Whirr.

He watched the front of the store for about two minutes before turning his attention to a group of kids across the street playing stoopball.

Click.

Whirr.

Suddenly, someone shoved him from behind.

Hey, Squirt, Theo heard.

It was an older kid.

What you got there? the kid asked pointing to the camera.

Theo stared at the boy who stood about a half foot taller than he did.

It’s… it’s a camera Theo responded.

Click.

Whirr.

Theo snapped his picture.

The boy reached for the camera as Theo pulled it back to his side.

Hey, I want to see it, the boy said.

You can’t see it, Theo responded.

Well, suppose I take it, the boy said advancing towards Theo.

Realizing he had no choice and without any warning, Theo kicked at the boy, getting him on the shin, and took off running across the street.

The boy screamed with pain and took off after Theo.

Theo crossed the street with ease and was in front of his father’s store in seconds.  Seeing the boy coming after him, Theo ran into the store.  The boy followed Theo only to stop in his tracks when he saw Theo’s Father.

What do you want with my boy? Sergio asked him.

No… nothing sir, the boy responded as he retreated out of the store with some speed.

Theo, you need to stick closer to the store from now on or bullies like that will try to steal your camera, he told his son.

Ok, Dad, Theo responded.

Wow that was a close one, Theo thought to himself.

Theo, you stay here with your mom and clean up.  I’ve got some errands to run.  You are in charge of closing up so I’ll see you at home, Sergio said.

Huh! Ok, Dad, Theo responded.

Lucia was in the back and overheard Sergio speaking to Theo and came out.

Where are you going? she asked him.

Got some business with the other store owners.  Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, he told her.

The Costellino Family

New York City / June 1942

Sitting in his 2nd floor office above the Italian pizzeria he owned, Sambrasio Agostino smiled at the man across his desk and wondered how long it would be before someone put a bullet in his head for being brash and arrogant.

You think we should back off, or we should be kind to the store owners and provide them with protection for free?  That is what you think? he asked the man sitting across from him.

If it were not that Sambrasio found it amusing to the point of hysterical, he would have had him escorted out.  Sambrasio was not impressed with the man’s balls but had agreed to let him talk.

Yeah, win their respect and confidence and they will allow us to use their shops to run the numbers or store some of your merchandise.  They help us and we help them.  Simple as that, the man responded.

I don’t agree.  I think it’s a stupid idea, Sambrasio said almost spitting it out.

The man across from Sambrasio stood and smiled down at him.

"Sorry you feel that way.  It is clear that I cannot say or do anything that can persuade you.  I was hoping you would see things my way and would be more cooperative in pleasing me," he said as he turned his back and walked towards the door.

"Please you?  Who the fuck do you think you are?  You stupid arrogant whop, get out of my office before I have your balls cut out and fed to my dogs," Sambrasio, now standing, shouted out to him as he watched him exit his office.

Sambrasio stared at the back of the closed door wondering who this person was, thinking he could just waltz in here and start telling him how to run my business.

A couple of months ago they hit a few stores for extortion money.  For the most part, the owners were easily persuaded and cooperative.  However, when they visited the owner of the bakery, a Mr. Alfred Bettino - this idiot - stood up to them.  One of Sambrasio’s men ended up in the hospital with a broken arm after Bettino hit him with a bat and chased the other man out into the street.  Sambrasio was furious.

This was unacceptable.  What would the others think?  That he was a pushover.  Sambrasio ordered a small army of his men to visit the bakery owner.  When they got there, they found the store burned down and the owner gone. In fact, no one ever heard of Alfred Bettino.

All of a sudden, he shows up, and asks to talk with the boss, Sambrasio Agostino.

Stepping out of the pizzeria and into the darkness, Mr. Alfred Bettino nodded to the two men waiting across the street.  Bettino walked up to them and they huddled in the entryway of a nearby apartment building.

A few minutes later, they disappeared into the darkness to wait.

Sambrasio stared at the door for a short time before ordering his men to find this Alfred Bettino and dispose of him.

I want everyone to know that it was me.  Send them a message on what happens if you mess with me, he ordered.

A few minutes later two men left the pizzeria and jumped into a nearby black 1939 Graham 97 heading to where the bakery had been located.  Sambrasio figured that someone was holding back and knew more than what they were saying.  He decided to send in a couple of his men to extract information. 

Unfortunately they didn’t notice the car that followed.

When they arrived on Motts Street, the car following stopped about two cars down and parked.  The occupants from the car that followed exited and approached the Graham from both sides.

As Sambrasio’s men stepped out of their car, a hail of bullets greeted them.

Alfred Bettino and his two men ran back to their car and sped away heading back to Sambrasio’s pizzeria.

A few minutes later they were there waiting.

Almost an hour had passed before Sambrasio got the call.  He jumped to his feet, his face beet red.

What, who, when? he yelled into the phone.

Sambrasio slammed the phone down and screamed for his car.

They screwed with the wrong person, he said to himself through clenched teeth.

Leading the way he descended the two stairways in seconds and was out on the street with his bodyguards still trailing behind him.  One of his men jumped in front of him and looked around.  He signaled the driver across the street to bring the car forward not noticing the three men who stepped out of a car parked on their side of the street one car over.  The intruders approached quickly with Thompson submachine guns blaring before Sambrasio’s men could react.  The bullets ripped into them without discrimination, making Swiss cheese of their faces and bodies.  Hearing the gunfire the other men inside the building came running only to be met by the same fate.  They never had a chance.  Sambrasio’s driver jumped out and ran the other way.

Sambrasio’s downfall was due to his ignorance.  He never took the time to investigate Alfred Bettino.  A man formerly out of Chicago.  Who fled to New York as a precaution when he learned of his boss’s arrest for tax evasion.  Bettino spent the last few weeks planning this meeting with Sambrasio.

He learned Sambrasio was not liked by anyone including his own men, and it would be easy to take over his business.  Nevertheless, Bettino knew he had to get rid of the top guns first and everyone else would fall into line; it was a matter of timing.

So ended the life of Sambrasio Agostino and his organization and in its place 41 year old Bolnaldo Costellino, alias Alfred Bettino, became boss.  By his side stood twenty-year-old Clemente Marino who would serve him as Consigliore until the end.

United We Stand

Little Italy/Chicago, June 1942

Sergio, quello che vi porta al mio negozio. Che la bella moglie del tuo era già qui in questa settimana? Benito Randazzo asked Sergio.

Sergio smiled at Benito, who was asking him why he was in his shop when his wife had been there earlier in the week.

Switching to English Benito continued,

Hey, I only sell to that wife of yours.  Not her ugly husband.

Sergio and Benito had been friends now for almost ten years, since they first came to Little Italy.  Both had arrived from Sicily around the same time forming an alliance of true friendship.

Benito, my friend, I need a minute of your time.  Got something to ask you, Sergio said pointing to the backroom.

The smile on Benito’s face became a look of concern.  He knew his friend well and knew that something was wrong.

Hey, Calito, you cover for me while I talk to my friend, Benito shouted out to