The Building on Second Avenue

By Mark Kressner

Welcome to the battle for the heart and soul of humanity. Miles Falcon built his dream; one which offered food, shelter, and sanctuary for those in need. It was about people, and everyone, without exception, was welcome.
'The First Atheistic Church of New York' was a lifeline for many, yet powerful forces were desperate that it should fail. Victoria Tomasulo, a returning combat veteran, dreamt of marriage and a family. Tragedy struck, and she and her four-year-old son, Anthony Ali, tremble into the Atheistic Church to escape danger. The boy's rival grandfathers, one Christian, one Muslim, each demand the boy be brought up in their religion. As the conflict deepens, the younger generation must take sides amongst impossible choices. The consequences are a matter of life and death. The conflicts between family and society become all too real. Those caught in the middle can see the action, but only from their individual point of view. No one can survive alone but who can anyone trust? There comes a time when we all must decide who we are and what we stand for. Love and hate, romance and intimacy, family traditions and religion all affect what we believe. Everyone must choose their own path. To walk down a new road one must step off the old one. Can anyone ever be sure of just what is "the right thing?" Miles Falcon and a cast of characters take you on a morally challenging, emotional and suspenseful action-packed story meant for today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645752493

Mark Kressner

Mark Kressner is a retired, record-setting, New York Trial Attorney. He has appeared as a guest expert for NBC News, the Montel Williams show, and hosted a 13-week radio program. Mark has been a volunteer for meals and sleepovers at the South Florida Family Promise Home and currently facilitates a Socrates Café discussion group in Boca Raton. His prior writings include legal briefs, essays, and theoretical physics. This is his first published novel. Born and raised in N.Y.C., Mr. Kressner now resides in Delray Beach, Florida.

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Epilogue

About the Author

Mark Kressner is a retired, record-setting, New York Trial Attorney. He has appeared as a guest expert for NBC News, the Montel Williams show, and hosted a 13-week radio program. Mark has been a volunteer for meals and sleepovers at the South Florida Family Promise Home and currently facilitates a Socrates Café discussion group in Boca Raton. His prior writings include legal briefs, essays, and theoretical physics. This is his first published novel. Born and raised in N.Y.C., Mr. Kressner now resides in Delray Beach, Florida.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to everyone that has ever asked themselves how to determine right from wrong.

This book is further dedicated in loving memory to Ronald J. Latino (R.J.) and Diane Iris Kressner.

Copyright Information ©

Mark Kressner (2020)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Kressner, Mark

The Building on Second Avenue

ISBN 9781645752479 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781645752486 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645752493 (ePub e book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020901831

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

The various drafts of this book were read and critiqued by some 30 of my friends and family. Every comment back to me, both positive and negative, have helped me improve the writing and the story. A special thanks must be given to my two literary friends, Fred McKinnon and Peter Porco. Their special expertise and advice has been of great value in helping me bring the final product to market. I’d like to thank my friends, Ronni and Ronnie. Ronni for all the support and encouragement. Ronnie for all the negative comments which pushed me to make needed improvements.

I must acknowledge the organization known as Family Promise of South Palm Beach. The staff, the volunteers, the guests, and my own time as a volunteer have highlighted, to me, the meaning and importance of providing food and shelter to so many worthwhile adults and children in need. I want to thank my children and grandchildren for having made my life so rich and rewarding. Finally, I thank Diane Brant for coming into my life and showing me what it means to love again

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Austin Macaulay Publishers will not be liable for any and all claims or causes of action, known or unknown, arising out of the contents of this book.

Chapter 1

New York City, December 29th 2015. 5:00 a.m

The snow was falling quietly. Softly, for now. Stalking like an ice-cold killer taking small steps as it closed in on its victims. The danger lurking, but the finishing blow seemingly still far away. It was getting closer than they knew.

It was a wedding, but you couldn’t say it was a party. The three of them were holding hands and walking down the aisle of the family Church in the heart of Little Italy. Father Capelli had known Victoria Tomasulo since she was young enough to sit on her mother’s lap. The entire Tomasulo family had been coming every Sunday for so many years. Victoria was not among them for almost fifteen years now.

Victoria was in the middle. She first met Azeem while she was stationed in Iraq. Fighting side by side led to laying side by side. Their son, Anthony Ali Tomasulo was born while they were still both deployed overseas. Their relationship was kept hidden from most, and certainly kept hidden even longer from her family.

Azeem was an Iraqi national fighting to preserve what was left of his country. A man willing to do what was necessary to achieve some semblance of stability for the land he had always known. When he was asked to fight with the American forces, he never hesitated, not for one moment. He would always wonder whether it was pure chance, or fate, that coupled him with the Italian beauty with a soldier’s discipline but an open heart.

Anthony turned four years of age on December 7, just over three weeks ago. Victoria had already experienced the disappointment of Azeem’s family in his choice of a wife. She certainly anticipated the emotional reaction that was now coming from her own flesh and blood for her choice in a husband. Anthony had been named for both of their fathers. It was a feeble attempt at mitigating the reaction to their union.

For the bride and groom, it was almost a moment of sheer joy and hope for the future. In the past few hours, they allowed themselves to believe the fairy tale, despite the obstacles they could feel, but hoped to avoid.

Father Capelli agreed to meet with the couple and child in the early hours, before the usual flock would enter the holy place for their spiritual needs. The good Father could recite his spiritual talking to by rote. By 5:00 a.m., the foursome were already gathered and ready to proceed.

The Father may have met Victoria more than twenty-five years ago, but knew her father, big Anthony Tomasulo for twice that time. The Father was beholden to him both as a friend and for the sizable donations made every week to the holy church. He had agreed to meet, and to marry, the young couple, even with their bastard son holding their hands as they wed. But he could feel the presence of Big Anthony and could never hide this event from him. Some things simply weren’t possible.

Welcome and quite on time. It is appreciated. As father Capelli spoke, his gaze would spirit from Victoria, to Azeem, and to the far wall where the door would soon provide entry to the proceedings. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. It fell onto the glorious white and black linen robe that cloaked his body, and his feelings. His glance never fell to the young child who stood staring wide-eyed at a building he had never known.

We are military trained. We are prepared. Father Capelli, this is my beloved, Azeem Farouk.

Welcome to ‘Our Lady of Forgiveness’, was the curt reply and the Father’s head gave a nod. No hand was extended by either man.

And this young man is my son, Anthony Ali, but we call him ‘Double A.’ Always charged up, like a battery. The lad looked up with the face of the innocent, his curly black hair almost combed. Father Capelli gave his best effort at a smile as he looked down at the boy. The child admittedly was quite the sight in a blue dress shirt and black slacks that were too long for his short body and covered most of the white sneakers he usually played in.

Blood was beating through the olive hued skin of Azeem and was pumping faster now. He was a soldier. Dressed, even today, in his military dress blues. He wanted to feel at ease, to simply feel the excitement of taking his bride. But with all he knew that could go wrong, relaxing into the moment was more trying than any obstacle course.

He kept an eye on the person that was to marry them. He kept a sharper lookout all around his perimeter. He took in the rectangular shape of the Church with its high ceiling and its glass stained images surrounding his young family. He almost allowed himself to laugh at the big screen monitor above the pulpit, just above the cross which took center stage flanked by the statue of Mary.

A techie was in the mezzanine level, playing with wires and machinery. At the push of a button, the image of Christ appeared on the cross, on the screen. The amusement came when the clap of thunder and bolt of lightning were superimposed across the image. That should scare the flock into submission. Azeem had seen, first hand, all that people could be convinced of when fear was the driving emotion. He had seen more than a man should have to bear witness to.

Victoria watched the eyes of the good Father and became guarded. This was supposed to be a quiet, private affair, but her sense of danger served her well for years in a foreign land. She stood pretty in a white, pleated flowing skirt with a blue renaissance blouse and a white veil upon her short auburn hair. Now, the military training was pushed front and center in her psyche to protect the happy family they were all hoping to become. She, too, struggled to find the serenity of the moment.

She had to ask, And you assured me, Father, this would remain private. A ceremony kept just between the people in this room.

Victoria, my dear, dear child, you know how important family is to a marriage. In the eyes of God, there is nothing more sacred.

All eyes looked up to the screen as a loud thunderclap bolted across the image of Christ. The front door burst open. Big Anthony’s long and loud strides carried him into the cathedral. Closer.

Breaths were held, and all eyes followed Victoria’s papa as he paced down the aisle. Dressed in a casual all-black leisure suit, he could have been going to a funeral. Then they saw the army of six that accompanied him.

I see my baby girl is to be married. A secret, Victoria? From your family? Big Anthony’s eyes were intense with purpose as he broadcast while stepping nearer.

Chapter 2

They wanted their weapons. As the wedding pair gazed into each other’s eyes, they both acknowledged their error. The guns were in their overcoats hanging on the wall by the entrance to the Church.

How could you, you lying bastard! she directed her first remarks to the Priest, but it was not a question. Turning to Big Anthony, she felt her son’s grip tightening beyond anything she felt from him before.

You don’t belong here, Papa. Not today, you don’t. Victoria’s body was stiffening from the tension. Part of it in fear, part in military readiness.

Azeem was mentally running every possible scenario in the strategic playbook, but every option was a dead end. Although he was a solid five foot ten, and still in fine military shape, it was obvious Big Anthony’s support team were all locked and loaded. They were trapped in the middle aisle with no easy out.

Papa was within six, maybe seven feet from them when he started in, Have you thrown away your faith? Your family? You come into a Church, yet ignore every principle God has taught us. This is not right, Victoria. Big Anthony was giving it his all to maintain civility when all he wanted to do was strike.

And what about my grandson? You name him for me and then hide him. Take him to what? Take him away without giving him our tradition, our love of God, our love of family?

And then the big man with the six ‘friends’ got to the point. You do what you want with your life, Victoria. You marry this Muslim, I can’t stop that. But the boy, he stays with our family. Because that is the right thing to do. That is his proper upbringing and you will not deny him that.

The booming voice penetrated the walls of the cathedral and wrapped around the bride to be. Double A started shaking, all the while trying not to cry right then and there. When Victoria protectively looked over her son, his pants could not hide their wetness.

Azeem stepped between Big Anthony and what was supposed to be his new family. You’re out of line, Mr. Tomasulo, and you’re scaring your daughter and OUR son. Azeem kept his stare directed at Papa, but his peripheral vision never lost sight of the men maneuvering into position. He corralled his bride to be and his son behind him with his outstretched arm.

As Azeem turned to them, he noticed the stained, wet pants. Vicky, why don’t you take Double A to the restroom? Clean him up and calm him down. I’ll handle this.

Her need to protect her son trumped her desire to stand her ground. How she wanted to stay with Azeem as she had so often in that desert. Keeping her hand gripped around her son, the mother maneuvered around the Father and headed for the restroom located stage left of the pulpit.

Azeem tried to assess the situation. One man remained by the entrance but was now moving toward their coats, and the weapons that had foolishly remained inside. Two men to his right, another two coming from the left. The one with the scar on his right cheek stayed six feet behind Big Anthony. Papa was just four feet away when the good Father called out. Nothing in the Church, Mr. Tomasulo. That’s what you said.

As the army of four closed in from the sides, Azeem swiftly turned, bringing his right foot down and into the leg of the closest enemy. The crack of the bone was followed immediately by the scream. For a moment, all movement stopped. The largest of the funeral suits, the one behind Big Anthony, pulled out a Glock 9-mil and Papa simply said, That’s all, for now.

From the front, the man covering the coats pulled two weapons out of their pockets and yelled, We got sumptin’ here, boss. We hit the jackpot.

Azeem knew what he had to do and nothing could take the place of protecting his almost wife and child. In the microsecond that only the mind can function in, he imaged the mortar shells of the desert blasting in his ear as he lay atop Victoria. The disbursed shrapnel cut through his left side while he smiled at her eyes, knowing she was safe. His hand went to the scar that still adorned his body. I will walk out with you peacefully, Mr. Tomasulo. No need for your grandson to see any part of this. The words were clearly enunciated and loud enough for Victoria to hear. It was the type of strategic communication they had learned during years of battle.

Victoria opened the bathroom window, lifted up Anthony Ali, and pushed him to the outside. She quickly climbed out behind him, picked him up, and together, they moved with an urgency usually reserved for the battlefield.

The wind was blowing harder. The snow coming down heavier. The adrenaline-filled mother moved them out of harm’s way, yet into the storm. There was no time to waste wishing for a coat. The hand of Double A was damn near frozen to his mom, his only lifeline. The sun was still another hour away. Their only light came from the reflection of the streetlamps bounding off the fallen and falling snow.

Azeem walked peacefully out the front door, led by his almost father-in-law and surrounded by his new enemies. The slower he walked, the longer he could maintain calm, the more time his family would have to put danger at a distance.

Pete, the man who took the guns from the overcoats handed one of the weapons to Big Anthony. Holding the second weapon, he said, Sir, this one came out of your daughter’s coat. Pete started waving the .38-caliber pistol in the air, then pointed it directly at Azeem.

Don’t do anything stupid, Pete. I’m sure Azeem can be reasonable about the boy.

Pete repeated the phrase, Yeah, be reasonable, as he continued to point the gun. Azeem’s fear for his child and military attitude took over as he lunged for the weapon. As he tried to grab Victoria’s pistol from Pete…it fired.

The next sounds were the blast of the pistol, the striking of bullet into brain, and the fall of a man onto the soft snow covering the hard ground.

Boss, it was an accident. He came for the gun.

You’re a moron. Big Anthony didn’t like what happened, but sometimes that’s the way things go. OK, that’s Victoria’s weapon. Wipe your prints off and leave the gun next to the body. All they can do is trace it back to her. Looks like the family may have to look after the boy after all. Let’s get out of here.

Victoria felt the tears freeze down her cheek as the crack of the discharging weapon ended her dream. Double A cringed as the wet pants froze onto his helpless thigh. They pressed on, into the howling wind and the icy bite of the pre-dawn blizzard. A bride’s white veil was taken by the wind; lost forever. Not yet knowing where they were headed, mother and son trembled away from the scene.

The red blood flowed silently over the white snow as it deserted the dress blue uniform. Azeem lay motionless wrapped in the colors of America.

From a distance, she heard her papa roar:

Now, find my daughter and bring me my grandson. You hear me, Victoria Tomasulo? Wherever you go, I will find you!

Chapter 3

The beauty of being up before dawn is the beauty of the dawn. Miles Falcon, age 32, ran his fingers through his curly, dirty blond hair.