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La Missione - The Mission
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Zürich, Switzerland - February 19, 1995
LORENZO EASED A DARK pair of sunglasses back on his face. The customs agent returned his passport with a snort. It was more like a toss back at him. He’d mastered restraint and patience for the past two months. It was best to ignore the coglione and remain humble.
“Move on,” said the customs guard behind the agent. Lorenzo tipped his head and plucked his bag from the floor with one hand before he walked off. Many things had changed. And no change had been more dramatic than Lorenzo’s appearance. His hair had grown much longer, and his beard covered part of his face. It made his fake passport much more useful, and custom agents even more distrustful. Covering his identity was crucial now. Giovanni had firebombed the Sicilian Dons into near oblivion. His war, had come in the form of kidnappings, politician payoffs, and extortion. There were only three families left from the carnage. And the Carabinieri was crawling all over them like cockroaches. Of course, the vow of silence held strong. Giovanni had not turned to the anti-mafia police to further damn them. But his retaliation had brought so much heat he might as well had done so. Lorenzo was losing his grip on Palermo. He trusted no one. And many remained loyalists to the now dead Mancini’s. His life was shit. His empire on shaky ground. And his woman and child remained missing.
That was all about to change.
He glanced to the signage above him and then headed south through Flughafen. His flight had been delayed. Any loss of time at this moment was costly. His baby girl would be born soon. A slight smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He had waited and waited on opening the little envelope that revealed the gender of their child. And now that he knew the truth, many truths, he couldn’t stop feeling the pride that came with fatherhood.
Once he walked through the crowded end of the terminal he spotted his men. Josef was the closest to him now. An Australian, Josef had left it all behind to move to Armenia with his family and soon fell into business with Vladik and Tahvo Yeremain. They were the head of the snake and Alik was more like the tail. So, when Josef arrived in Sicily Lorenzo knew the Akhperutyuns took his position seriously. He was his own man. A boss. And with Alik in America for the past several weeks handling their delicate business affairs with the gun smugglers, Josef was the additional muscle Lorenzo had to hold on to what he’d stolen from the Mancini’s.
“You miss your flight or something? We’ve been waiting for three hours,” Josef said.
“Three? Felt much longer than that.” Lorenzo tossed his bag to one of the men shadowing Josef. “Fucking pilot was useless. Spent more time on the runway than in the air.”
“Why?”
“Customs wanted to delay us because of his flight plan. And that meant delaying me. Nothing to worry about. I handled it.”
“You anxious?” Josef asked.
“I was born anxious,” Lorenzo smiled.
It was lucky for Lorenzo that the Mancini’s had wealth that wasn’t washed in cosa nostra’s blood. The legitimate businesses were now his. Catalina fought him on nothing. She had recovered from her womanly sickness. And now that the Marissa woman was gone Catalina did nothing but plan for the birth of the demon seed she carried. He thought Catalina’s madness had convinced her Armando was her true love. Lorenzo chuckled often over her devotion and frequent proclamations of love for the dead Don. He’d love to rub it in Dominic and Giovanni’s faces.
“I got a call from Vladik. It appears his granddaughter Marissa has not been heard from since she left Sicily. Is Catalina sure she returned to Armenia?”
“Catalina? Not sure. I think one of the servants said Marissa returned to Armenia. I remember the women discussing it.”
“Maybe you could call Catalina and confirm. Just to be sure of her destination. It’s been over a month.” Josef said. “He fears she might have tried to return to Las Vegas.”
“Not my problem.”
“Just thought you should know that Vladik inquired. He is the boss of all bosses.”
Lorenzo kept walking. He noticed how some of the armed officers were focused on him and his entourage. He tried to seem casual, but his guard was up. He was able to breathe a sigh of relief when he was at his car. Nothing could come between him and his mission.
The car door was opened for him. He eased inside.
“Marissa is known to take off for a time and then show up later. She and her brother are a strange breed. Tahvo’s craziness has rubbed off on them. Kids never had a chance.” Josef was seated next to him. He handed a folder to Lorenzo. Inside were pictures after pictures of Dr. Sera Marchetti. She had absconded from Italy almost two months ago. She walked away from her practice, her family, everything. Christmas day Marietta had shouted the doctor’s name before the communication was cut off. His wife had given him very critical clues. She was in a hospital, she was in Africa, she was being held hostage in Africa. And Lorenzo knew how Giovanni managed it. This cunt doctor had helped him.
“Even if your wife was taken to Tanzania, do you really think that Giovanni would leave her there now that you know this?” Josef asked.
“Africa is a huge continent. Why would Giovanni bother to move her when she is so close to delivery? And if he has moved her wouldn’t the doctor know her next destination?”
“Not if she’s running from Giovanni too.”
“I know how Gio works. Trust me,” Lorenzo dismissed the concern. He paused on one picture and frowned. Lorenzo studied it.
“What? What is it?” Josef asked.
“When I first met this doctor, I thought it strange that she looked so much like... someone I once knew.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter who. She looks like her. Even her hair color. Strange.”
“In your world there are no coincidences. So, I’ll ask you again. Who was this woman she reminded you of? It could be important.”
“She’s an old girlfriend; the best-friend to Giovanni’s wife.”
“So this one on the picture is a doppelgänger or family member?”
“I don’t know. She could be her cousin, they look so much alike. Fabiana was Italian, from America. Her mother... I think her family had either died or abandoned her. I can’t remember Fabiana’s story, she was killed... before I really knew her.”
“You think this woman is related to her?”
“If she is, that would explain her running from Giovanni. She got close to his wife, and mine. Where is the doctor now?”
“Home. She hasn’t left her home all day. I got two of your men sitting on her.”
Lorenzo slouched down and relaxed. He needed to clear his head. He needed the doctor’s cooperation not fear. Josef kept with the questions about Fabiana and he chose to ignore them. Fabiana was from another life. One he’d forgotten the day Marietta stole his heart. Whoever Dr. Sera was, she was no Fabiana. The bitch could die like the rest of them that stood in the way of him finding his wife.
“Have you heard from Alik?” Lorenzo asked.
“Not in a week,” Josef mumbled.
“That troubles you?” Lorenzo mocked him with his tone. “I thought you reported to Vladik.”
“I’m here to protect Vladik’s interests and that includes his son. So, hearing from him or not I’m always concerned. There is nothing but trouble now. Alik says the Italians can’t be trusted. You and that Sicilian Don say we should have blind faith. But you have not explained what has really happened, mate. It makes trusting you hard.”
Lorenzo laughed. “Giovanni’s stupid wife destroyed the clans when she played at being Mafia Donna. Gio has a rag-tag crew of pretenders bonded to him by Omertá.”
“Have you not been paying attention mate? You are losing alliances and Giovanni’s friends are growing in numbers. The Russians are strong in the Amalfi now. He’s far more powerful without you than he was with you.”
“The Russians can suck my dick! They don’t know what it is to be Camorra.”
Josef waved off his comment. “Stop with these oaths of silence and allegiance. I’m telling you it doesn’t matter anymore. What is Giovanni’s end game? Killing you can’t be it.”
“You piss on our customs because you don’t understand it. Same mistakes the Russians are making now with Giovanni. To defeat him, you must know him. Omertá is la cosa nostra vow. Giovanni has giuramento camorristico a different code of silence and loyalty. A rebirth.”
“Speak plain, mate,” Josef demanded.
“We are the knights of la Camorra, our fathers were the kings. We are all men of honor and of silence. The Campania belongs to us. What Giovanni is doing is what’s been done over and over again by our fathers. He’s rebuilding, for his sons. And that’s how I’ll defeat him. The same way he’s trying to defeat me.”
Josef gave a respectful nod and let the questioning end. This war between them was different. They were no longer la Camorrista. The arrest of the clan bosses had rocked the Campania to the core. And even more cofounding was the fact that Giovanni escaped any blame because of his coma. He could rebuild unchallenged. And he did. La Camorra’s rebirth was whispered to be known as the NCO, better referenced as the Nuova Camorra—the new family. A clan confederation of adhoc bosses gathered together by Giovanni. These clan bosses lived a different code of obedience. One that bled so deep in the Campania no one spoke their name above a whisper.
If a common cab driver was questioned by a visiting tourist. “Where is the Mafia? I hear on the news there were many arrests along the Amalfi? Can you show me?”
The cab driver would simply reply: “There is no Mafia. No such thing. What would I know of a Mafia? I drive cars. A simple man. I know nothing of a mafia.”
All of it lies of course. The Sicilian Dons had told Lorenzo of Giovanni’s movements. He’d taken money and gone into the prisons where all the old clan boys and girls were left to rot. He improved the conditions of the young prisoners. And gained gratitude and loyalty in exchange. Licciardi’s throat was cut during a prison fight. Racchi was found dead with a pipe impaled through his skull. Even in prison these men were not to be touched. But they were. By the loyalist who once bled and fought for them. And these same loyalists were coming out of prison taking a new oath of silence. One for Giovanni.
Lorenzo knew what being reborn into a new family meant.
Lorenzo glanced over to Josef who too had his eyes closed. He then looked down at the picture of Dr. Sera Marchetti and for a moment saw Fabiana staring back up at him. What would have happened if he never had drinks with Giuseppe Calderone? Would he have fallen in love with Fabiana and never met the true love of his life? Or was Fabiana his intended destiny? When he thought hard enough on it he realized fate and destiny were the same for him. Everything he’d done up until this moment gave him the wife and family he’s always wanted. And he wouldn’t change a damn thing.
***
The Campania - Italy
THESE WERE THE NEW ones. Some were as young as fifteen mixed in with others who were as old as forty. Each of them awaited fate like a boys-school crush. The desire was to become family. To belong to something important. To be men, the hard way.
They stood shoulder to shoulder in rows of six like that of a small army. They wore no shirts. They wore no shoes. They’d been tested, starved, beaten and tested again. The rites of passage had been brutal for them the pass few nights—and lonely. Once there were as many as sixty-two. They were all that remained.
The door to the underground basement opened. One kid, a boy named Rolando barely tall enough to be shouldered between two scrappy older men fidgeted a bit. It was not from fear. He fought down excitement. The kind that made your gut churn and your knees wobble. He’d only seen the Don of the Campania from a distance. He’d heard so many stories about him and his Black Donna. He’d even heard that he had brown children with purplish-blue eyes. The man was a legend. A hero and a scoundrel to their people. He liked that mix a lot.
Three men entered first. Rolando didn’t know any of them. But he guessed by their hard looks and imposing stature they were the meanest of the Battaglia clan. None of them smiled. The next man into the room was no ordinary fellow, it was a priest. The kid recognized him from a parish his mother visited. Father Christopher was as old and respected as the traditions he made sure were upheld by faith and religion in the Amalfi.
Why did this feel more like a death than a rebirth?
The priest held a bible and baptism wand. His long robe dusted the floor as he stepped through the room with feet unseen. His collar was the whitest of white. The features of the holy man were made ominous by the shadows.
The last to enter the basement with another man closely behind him was Don Giovanni. He wore all black. He was taller than Rolando remembered. Or maybe Rolando felt smaller in his presence. One thing he knew for certain was the Don had walked down those steps unimpressed by the men he found. Rolando held his breath for bravery and stuck out his chest with pride. He stood firm and made sure the Don saw no signs of weakness. When the Don’s eyes fell upon him he made sure to hold his stare until his gaze moved on.
It was how he won Carlo’s respect. How he gained a father and mentor that rescued him from a life of misery on the streets. Carlo was gone, and so was the safety he once offered. Maybe today he’d find a mentor again in Giovanni. It was Rolando’s only hope.
Father Christopher circled the men. He splashed holy water from the copper wand over every corner of the room.
“Battezzo!” The Priest began. “This place is as your three old ancestors once were—unclean. I baptized it then. I baptize it now. You, the unclean, men born with irons and chains, I baptize thee.”
A sentinel of silence hung over the men which enforced obedience. The Priest began to pray in Latin. The boy braved another look at Don Giovanni. The Don looked him in the eye—again. Giovanni winked at the boy and then turned and left. Rolando almost smiled. It was the first and only action of humility he’d ever seen from the Don. He was certain the wink was for him. At the end of the rites of passage where he’d be tested and tested again by some of the most ruthless men in the Battaglia clan he’d be brought before Giovanni and the other bosses of the NCO. A hug between cumpare and cumpariello (godfather and godson) would seal his fate. He’d be cut. He’d bleed for the clan. He’d be reborn. Francesco like the rest of the men waited for the day.
***
“Che cazzo é? What the fuck are they?” Giovanni asked Dominic as he walked to the car.
“Your men. The best of what we got out of the last prison release,” Dominic said.
“They’re fucking kids.”
“We’ve taken in younger. The runts are what is left of Carlo’s boys. They need something Gio. Without them they are back on the streets lost.”
Giovanni nostrils flared. “I don’t want any more kids. Don’t I have enough shit to deal with? My Bella takes one look at them and she’ll cut my balls.” He walked off. Renaldo waited by the car. He opened the door for Giovanni. The Don stopped and looked back at Dominic. “What is the news from Carlo?”
“Any day now.”
“And Lorenzo?”
“He’s on the hook,” Dominic said. “Time to reel him in.”
“Not before Catalina is safe. You move her. She’s had enough time.” Giovanni pointed at Dominic. He nodded that he would. He’d had eyes and ears on Catalina since he got rid of the puttana plotting under her nose. He feared Lorenzo and the Armenians would connect her disappearance. For some reason they had not. Still it was a risk.
“Gio?” Dominic said before the Don slipped into the car. “What do you want me to do with the doctor? After she does what we want we can’t just let her walk away. We know who she really is.”
“Fuck her,” Giovanni said and got in the car. The door was closed. Renaldo walked around the car and got in and drove off. Dominic watched him disappear into the night. He’d grown fond of the doctor and wanted no harm to come to her at first. But then her betrayal was revealed to him. And Giovanni was the one to tell Dominic what he should have seen the moment they met. For every success he made there was always something to remind his brother of his ineptness. It had to stop. Dominic reached in his pocket and removed his mobile phone. He dialed.
“Pronto, Mancini Palazzo? Who’s calling?”
“Bionca, you know why I’m calling.”
“Si signore. I know. But you were never to call here,” she whispered into the phone.
“I told you to keep the phone with you always. I haven’t been able to reach you.”
“I am at work. I can’t be caught with it. It would make the staff suspicious... I’ve done what you asked. I have gone to Bagheria.”
“And?” Dominic sighed.
“I met with your Zia. I delivered your message.”
“And?”
“I must go. Signora Catalina is expecting her lunch. She’s resting.”
“What is wrong with her?” Dominic stopped pacing. “Bionca?”
“Fainting spell. Nothing serious. The doctors want her to relax—.”
“Tell me about Zia.”
“I must—.”
“Answer me!”
Bionca sighed. “She said nothing. I think she understands your wishes.”
Dominic wiped his hand down his face. “Are you sure Catalina is okay? I want the name of her doctor. Everything you can find out about him.”
“She says she’s fine. How am I to know more? I can’t ask those questions.”
“Lorenzo is gone. Isn’t he?”
“Yes, but—.”
“Then fucking ask the questions!”
“Si Signore Dominic,” Bionca complied. Dominic relaxed. He couldn’t help it. Catalina was going to be a mother. Though he’d give his life for the kid to be his, he still couldn’t help but imagine how vulnerable Catalina must be now.
“Does she cry and mourn your boss?”
“She talks about Armando a lot. Wants a boy to name after him. But she doesn’t cry anymore. She’s strong, Dominic. Very determined.”
“This will soon be over. Lorenzo and all of it. For now, you make sure you have the phone with you always. If Zia does what I’ve asked, you let me know. I need to move Catalina... bring her home.”
“The doctors won’t permit it—.”
“Get me the information I asked, and I will deal with the doctors.”
“Si Signore Domi.”
“Grazie. I will call again soon.”
***
Palermo - Sicily
“THANK YOU, BIONCA, but I’m not hungry.” Catalina said as she clipped the roses.
Bionca wheeled in the cart with lunch and cool drink closer. “You were supposed to stay in bed. The doctors want you to rest.”
Catalina laughed. She glanced over to her servant who after Marissa left had become her only companion. The concern was genuine, but it felt sad. “What is there to do here but rest? All I ever do is rest. Clipping a few roses under moonlight relaxes me. Okay?”
Bionca nodded in agreement. “I’ll leave your dinner. You can eat it later. It’s late. I must get home to my children.”
Catalina looked around the garden. Her mother had taught her at a young age how to clip and groom rose bushes. These weren’t the blue roses her mother loved, but they were just as beautiful. “It’s a nice night. The moon is big... it’s almost like the sun. Go home and share the night with your babies. When I was a little girl visiting Sicily, I loved this time of day.”
Bionca looked up at the moon from the open garden.
“Scusi, Donna Catalina,” a young woman on the staff interrupted them.
“Yes?” she answered.
“You have a visitor.”
“There are to be no visitors, you know better,” Bionca admonished.
“Si, si, but this visitor is different. She is your family.”
“She?” The news landed hard. Catalina dropped the shears in her hand. For two months she had sent messages, had called, had even written to her Zia and nothing came in return. Lorenzo confirmed that Zia stayed in Bagheria. Could it be Zia, or was it one of her many other aunts coming to do Giovanni’s bidding?
It didn’t matter.
The mere thought of seeing her family sent a surge of hope through her. “Where? Where is she?”
“The parlor.” The girl answered.
“Catalina—.” Bionca stepped in her way. “Wait a moment. Let me confirm who this visitor is. You shouldn’t be upset.”
“Get out of my way.”
Bionca gave her a patient smile. “If you insist. But if this is your aunt, the one you spoke of so many times... you might want to change. See her at your best.”
Catalina looked down at her white house gown that was smeared in dirt stains, and her hands caked with dirt. She’d done some plotting, as well. And she rarely dressed for the day because she never saw anyone but Bionca.
“I’ll make sure your Zia is comfortable. You hurry upstairs and get dressed to receive her. Make this a happy moment to reveal to her your blessing.” Bionca touched Catalina’s small baby bump. She was beginning to show. Catalina eyes watered with understanding. She was visibly pregnant.
“Yes, you’re right. I need to clean up. I won’t be long. I’ll hurry.”
Bionca gave her a nod and Catalina hurried out of the door. She was crying. Tears of joy. She didn’t need confirmation. She felt it. Her Zia was here. Zia had come to see her.
***
“ZIA?” ZIA TURNED FROM the portrait of the Mancini’s and her gaze immediately went to Catalina. She had heard rumors but never believed them. The many times Catalina had called Bagheria to speak to her she refused. She feared the truth. An offer for her to come to visit was rejected as well. No matter what Catalina and Lorenzo were doing this was Marsuvio Mancini’s land. They should not be here.
And then Domi delivered a message to her. One she could not ignore. Her sweet Catalina was indeed pregnant with Armando’s child and in need of her help.
“It’s you!” Catalina rushed over and threw her arms around the old woman. She hugged her tightly. Zia hugged her back.
“I’m so glad. I missed you so much. So much!” Catalina wept. Zia could barely keep her niece standing thanks to her own small stature, but she tried. And the more she tried to comfort Catalina the weaker she became. She helped her to the sofa and they both sat. However, Catalina never let go of her.
“Zia, Zia, Zia,” Catalina wept.
“Piccolina mia per favore, calmati,” Zia said. She stroked the side of Catalina’s face. “You’re pregnant. It’s true?”
“I’m married,” Catalina sniffed. “See? He loved me. He always did.”
“Who loves you?”
“Armando. My husband.”
Zia took her hand and inspected the ring. It was a pretty diamond nestled between many diamonds. Eve had feared the marriage the moment Tomosino told her that he agreed to the bargain. Giovanni had defied his father and forced Catalina to marry Franco. No one foresaw this. But fate could not be denied. Zia of all people knew this.
“Say something?” Catalina pleaded.
“I had heard you married him. Nothing on this island remains secret. But part of me didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it.”
“I love him. I loved him,” Catalina broke down into tears. “Lorenzo killed him.”
That was not new news to Zia. She’d seen evidence of Lorenzo’s power in Sicily. Especially after the burning down of Mondello. The world had turned on its axis. Nothing made sense.
“How many months?” Zia asked.
“Twenty-two weeks... I conceived in September.”
“This child is a blessing.”
“Is it?” Catalina wept. “Do you mean it because Giovanni won’t see it that way.”
“Your brother loves you. The family loves you. He will love this baby too. It’s our family blessing. I’m here. To take care of you.”
“You are? You’ll stay?” Catalina sighed with relief. “You’ll stay here with me?”
Zia smiled. It was the call from Giovanni that changed her mind. And after seeing Catalina she knew he was right. She was needed here. She would stay by Catalina’s side until it was time to bring her home.
“Where’s Lorenzo?” Zia asked. “I must speak to him.”
“It won’t make a difference. He’s evil now. He’s always been evil. The only way I could keep peace between us was to give him all of this.” She gestured. “I signed everything over to him except this house. This house is mine. But he controls everything else. Even Armando’s men are loyal to him.” Catalina wiped her tears. “It’s a nightmare. Armando is dead because of me. But if I hadn’t come here I would have never known... never known him the way I do. And my baby... did he have to die so I could have my baby?”
“That is done.” Zia lifted Catalina’s chin. “You’re going to be a mother. Your child is the last true heir to the Mancini’s. That means Armando is alive. Here.” She pressed her hand against Catalina’s belly.
Catalina took down a few deep breaths and relaxed.
“Are you calm?”
“Yes. Zia... how is everyone? Gio, and... Mira?”
“Not well.”
“She hates me too,” Catalina said.
“No, Mirabella doesn’t. She did what she had to do to protect your brother. She had little choices back then. She has even fewer choices now.”
“Why aren’t you in Sorrento? They tell me you stayed in Bagheria after Rocco... oh Zia, Rocco... I can’t believe he’s gone. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”
Catalina collapsed on Zia again. Zia comforted her and told her all about Rocco’s illness and death. She told her niece every detail of his funeral and passing on. She kept talking until Catalina’s questions were all answered. It exhausted them both. Zia prayed for the family. The news Giovanni wanted her to share with Catalina and Lorenzo would have to wait. In that moment she just wanted to make her piccolina feel whole again.