Page 110 of Brutal Crown

To the parts of the city where La Mano Nera masks don’t matter, where the brunt of power is worn like scars instead of expensive silk. I look out for old captains who’ve disappeared from the spotlight, enforcers who suddenly vanished, widows of men who were “retired” by the Society for asking the wrong questions.

While Marco parades around with Lia on his arm, while the Elders sit smug at their polished tables whispering lies over wineand truffles, I start knocking on doors that haven’t been open in years.

First, I find Emilio Gallo.

He was once an accountant for the Vescovi family. Now, he’s a washed-up drunk running numbers for a small bar owned by a regular civilian. He slams the door in my face the first time I make my intentions known. The second time I knock on his door, I bring him his debt slip from two different loan sharks in town.

“I’ll clear all your debt,” I say. “If you talk.”

He talks.

His story is fragmented and old, thanks to his perpetual drunken state. But I don’t mind. They say drunk mouths speak sober thoughts. He reveals that the Elder representing the Vescovi family used outsiders to rig an election in Sicily in favor of his cousin. Head men—outsiders—with Society money.

Treason.

The kind that gets a family’s name burned from Society records.

“One of the strongest contenders died in what looked like an overdose. He was found alone in a luxury hotel room, with pills on the table and a bottle of bourbon in his hand,” Emilio reveals in a slightly slurred voice. “The footage made rounds on TV. Some people even turned him into a cautionary tale. But the Elder of the Vescovi family laced the pills himself through a mistress who disappeared right after completing the task.”

“What did he get in return for his cousin winning the election?” I ask.

Emilio raises his shoulders in a tired shrug. “More power. He made alliances with outsiders, outside La Mano Nera’s knowledge, across various countries. He was a paranoid man who believed in not having all one’s eggs in a basket.”

So he didn’t fully trust the Society. He had backup plans, just in case… of what? War? A coup?

Emilio slides a stack of papers toward me, his fingers trembling slightly. “Everything’s in there,” he mutters, his voice low. “Proof of what the Elder did. The rigging of the election in Sicily, the murder, the money transfers from Society accounts, his outside connections, everything.”

I study him closely. “You ran away without revealing what you discovered. My guess is that they found out.”

“I didn’t know what I was,” he hiccups, “looking at. When I figured it out, I realized I was already in too deep. I was scared he was starting to suspect me, so I ran to Russia. I heard he started looking for me then.”

“But now you’re back.”

He chuckles, revealing a set of brown teeth.

“I didn’t come back willingly. I was deported two years ago. I’ve been living under the radar ever since. I don’t even know how you found me.”

I take the papers and slip them into my jacket. This is enough proof, but it’s only the beginning.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I won’t forget this.”

The next person I find is Isotta Lanza. She’s a widow of one of the old enforcers who vanished in the early nineties. At first, she’s scared to reveal any information to me. But then I offer her protection and pay the medical bills of her sick mother.

She’s vague, but I get all the information I need. An Elder from the descendants of Altieri has his blood scattered across the city. Children he fathered outside of his accepted bride. Two of the women disappeared after their pregnancies. One of the children died in a car fire that was never investigated. The last woman he impregnated outside his marriage was just a girl who was sixteen.

It’s disgusting.

Not only did he impregnate a minor, his actions are a direct violation of La Mano Nera’s bloodline rules. Children born outside approved unions are considered a threat to the Society’s lineage. That kind of crime, when discovered, doesn’t just get the Elder executed. It puts his whole branch at risk of erasure.

“He paid off a doctor to make the birth records disappear,” Isotta whispers. She glances around her small living room nervously, like she’s scared someone will barge in and find her exposing the truth to me. “Then he married her off to some nephew in Argentina. Nobody has heard of her since. My husband discovered too much, so…” Tears well up in her eyes. “They killed him.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I say, offering my sincere condolences.

When I leave her house, I go straight to a notary I know. He’s a corrupt old man who has worked for me a few times in the past. I offer him five thousand euros to find the original birth records for the few names Isotta provided. It takes a few days for the documents to get into my hands.

I keep digging. I get lucky with a former secretary, Pietro, who once worked for a Salvatore Elder. One of his eyes is gone. I notice he’s also missing his two middle fingers. Whoever maimed him has a twisted sense of humor.

He’s the toughest nut to crack, probably because he’s had a rough life and doesn’t have anything left to lose. He refuses to talk, despite my threats and offers. He’s comfortable financially, so he doesn’t accept my bribes. He’s the only one I’ve met who isn’t hiding or on the run. From what I’ve gathered, he got tired of the darkness associated with working for an Elder, so he quit.