New York City/October 1984
Nurses P. Church and C. Parry had been making the rounds on the ICU floor of Belleview Hospital for over ten years. They would start at the east wing and work their way to the west wing, checking the patients’ vitals, the intravenous connections, and monitor for any changes.
Though for the most part, those staffing the nurse's station would immediately notice any change, it was mandatory that they physically made their rounds every hour. On this particular day, they had about eighteen patients to check; most in different stages of recovery, and one listed in a coma with little chance of improvement.
Around 2:00 a.m. they made their way to this particular patient's room. Nurse Church went around to the right side of the patient's bed and checked on the IV, while the other nurse went to the left side of the bed to check on the forty-seven year old patient.
"She looks like an angel," commented Nurse Church as she looked upon the woman lying there. The patient’s eyes were closed, and she was covered with a white sheet from her feet to just under her neck. Her head was wrapped in a white bandage making her look like a nun.
"Honey, that ain’t no angel in this bed," responded Nurse Parry. "She was once head of a ruthless crime family. She made her own bed. Serves her right if you ask me," Nurse Parry said with venom in her voice.
It had been three months since an assassin's bullet had a collision with her forehead. An operation she had when she was a child had resulted in a plate being placed on her front lobe, which had saved her life. The bullet ricocheted upward and to the right, resulting in a lot of bleeding. From the initial appearance, with blood all over the floor and nearby cabinet, it looked as if her brain had been splattered. However, it was only the outer skin that ripped as the bullet hit the plate and took flight upwards, missing the brain altogether.
As both nurses performed their duties, Nurse Church let out a short gasp when she looked up and saw the patient staring back at her.
"Wh... where... is my brother?" the woman asked in a frail, but commanding voice.
Without responding, Nurse Parry immediately reached for the call button and nervously began to push, while Nurse Church backed away fearing that the patient might have heard her.
Felicia Giordano had once again cheated death.
***
Within the hour, the room filled with doctors, nurses and the curious hospital staff. Though no one was permitted to visit with Miss Giordano for several days, immediate calls went out to a list of contacts provided by both the FBI and members of the Giordano organization. It was clear to all that failure to advise them of any changes to the state of Miss Felicia Giordano's health would result in dire consequences.
Almost immediately, two heavily armed men arrived and positioned themselves outside Miss Giordano's room. Additionally, two uniformed police officers were also dispatched to the hospital, not so much to protect Miss Giordano, but rather to control the onslaught of media and the curious. Barricades were put up around the entryway to prevent unauthorized access by the media and the public.
"This is outrageous! I want all of these barricades removed," screamed the hospital administrator.
It was Leo Russo who quite persuasively advised the hospital administrator that it was necessary to ensure the safety of Miss Giordano.
"Sir, if anything happens to Miss Giordano while she resides here in your hospital, you and your fucking family will pay the price. I hope I have made myself clear," Leo told him.
With that said, the administrator went back to his office and refrained from voicing any more objections.
The front page of most of the local newspapers bore the story of Miss Giordano's recovery. Some were calling it a miracle, while others were predicting that a slew of executions would befall those responsible for her brother's death.
"Has she been told yet?” “Does she know her brother is dead?” “How did she take the news?" reporters shouted out at anyone who entered the hospital who they thought might know Miss Giordano.
***
Three weeks after her recovery Felicia Giordano met with Leo Russo. Before Leo could say anything, she raised her finger to her lips, cautioning him on what was to be said.
"How do you feel, Miss Giordano?" he asked her.
"Leo, we've been friends for so many years and still you don't call me Felicia. Why?" she asked him.
"I am sorry Miss Giordano...um... Felicia. It's an old habit. I am so glad you are back with us. We are all very glad you have recovered," Leo told her.
"My brother, did he suffer?" she asked him.
"No, Miss Giord... Felicia. No he did not suffer. He was still under when...You know," Leo told her. Felicia nodded her acknowledgement of what he was trying to say.
"Why, Leo? Why did he do it? Why did he kill my brother and try to kill me?" Felicia asked then raising her hand signaling him not to answer. "We will discuss the matter further when I am out of this place," she told him.
"Yes, ma’am," Leo responded.
Just then there was a knock on the door. It was Captain John Connolly.
"Miss Giordano, I am Captain John Connolly with the FBI and I would like to ask you a few questions about the night you were shot."
"Get out of here. Take your questions and stick them up your ass." Felicia responded calmly.
John continued into the room ignoring what she just told him. "Miss Giordano, we can offer you protection," Connolly told her.
"Protection! You can give me protection? Really? Weren't some of your protection outside my brother's room when that fucker came in and shot us? Damn good protection you have! No, thanks," Felicia almost screamed at him.
The commotion was heard out in the hallway causing a doctor to rush in to see what had happened. "You are upsetting my patient. You will all have to leave now," the doctor commanded.
John smiled at her and nodded. But before walking out of the room he turned to her and said, "You had your own protection there too, and it didn't do you much good either."
"Get the fuck out of here," she told him.
Leo Russo followed John Connolly out of the room nodding at her as he left.
Felicia looked at the doctor and asked, "When can I be released?"
"You need some therapy to get you up and walking again. Probably in a couple of weeks," he told her.
Standing at the other end of the bed, Felicia asked him to come closer. With her right hand she pulled his white smock jacket down towards her.
"I want to be out of here right now. You do what needs to be done to make that happen. Do I make myself clear? If it is therapy I need, then have someone do it at my home in New Jersey. In the meantime, get me an ambulance to take me home right now. One more thing. You tell no one. Understand?" Felicia told him in a very strong and commanding voice.
The doctor stared at her and knew he had to handle this matter very carefully. "Miss Giordano, I must object. It is not in your best interest to leave this minute. It is not healthy. Please give me a couple of days to try and make you stronger. I strongly urge you to listen to me. I have only your best interest at heart. Please, just a couple of days," the doctor begged her.
Felicia stared at him for a few seconds. Seeing the concern in his face she retreated. "Ok. You win this round. You got a couple of days. But I want to get started now," she told him.
"Thank you, Miss Giordano. I will arrange for a therapist to see you immediately," he told her.