Page 27 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

N othing went according to plan.

NOTHING.

First off, it took Alessandra days to escape.

The old Sicilian woman managed to get her out through the secret tunnel, yes –

But Dario intervened before the Turk could arrive to snatch her up.

Dario thrashed the two operatives who were lying in wait – a defrocked priest and some random thug.

Unexpectedly, though, both the priest and the thug committed suicide rather than let themselves be taken captive.

“You’re joking,” I said in disbelief.

“Cyanide pills,” Fausto confirmed.

“Why?!”

“The Oldanis are old-school Cosa Nostra . If their men are taken captive, they know it’s better to die than talk… because if they talk, the Oldanis will negotiate for their release and then torture them to death themselves. For weeks.”

I shuddered.

I was finally beginning to understand the kind of people I’d joined forces with.

If Fausto and the Oldanis were this bad…

I could only imagine how horrific Dario and the others were.

Then came the failure in Florence.

Fausto set up a meeting between the Turk and Dario. The whole thing was a ruse – an excuse for the Turk to scope out the property under the pretense of striking a business deal.

But then the Sicilian woman called us an hour before the meeting and informed us that Massimo and Valentino were taking Alessandra shopping in Florence.

With disgust in her voice, Filomena also let us know that Dario and Alessandra had become sexually involved.

Fausto hung up on her as she continued to rant about it.

“Do you think Dario raped her?” I asked Fausto, my own disgust fully evident.

“Hm…no,” he said thoughtfully. “My nephew is many things, but he’s not one to force a woman against her will.”

“If that’s the case, it means Dario will be even more protective towards her,” I warned. “We might never get another chance to grab her.”

“Then we’ll have to make this opportunity count, won’t we?”

Fausto informed the Turk about the shopping trip.

He was delighted. “I’ll have some of my men grab her in Florence! Who knows – if it happens DURING the meeting, I might even kill Dario myself, just as he’s finding out I have the girl!”

“Massimo and Valentino will fight back,” Fausto warned. “Your men are going to have to kill them.”

“They’ll handle it,” the Turk said dismissively.

“You can’t have a shootout in the streets of Florence without getting the Agrellas’ permission first.”

“You can take care of that, can’t you?” the Turk purred. “Partner?”

“I’ll talk to them,” Fausto grumbled.

“Excellent! I’ll have the girl by this afternoon, two of the brothers will be dead, and the rest won’t last the night!”

I thought the Turk’s confidence was misplaced.

I was right.

Fausto had some trouble convincing the Agrellas to go along with the plan.

“Bautiste,” he said into his cell phone as he paced back and forth in the study, “do you want control of all of Florence or not? Well, this is your opportunity!”

Bautiste Agrella must have expressed some sort of reservation because Fausto said, “I want the rest of Dario’s territory. YOU can have Florence.”

Fausto listened to the phone at his ear, then spoke in a solemn tone.

“Of course – I swear on the soul of my brother that you’ll have control of all of Florence.

I completely relinquish any and all claim on the city.

There – are you satisfied? Good. Don’t interfere if the Turk’s men start shooting. ”

After he hung up, I asked, “What was that all about?”

“Bautiste Agrella is the consigliere for his brother Dominic,” Fausto explained.

“Why are you dealing with him and not the top guy?”

“The consigliere is a go-between. He gives all the orders and provides a shield of plausible deniability for the Don in case the cops start arresting people.”

I raised one eyebrow.

Fausto chuckled. He knew what I was thinking. “Taking a fall for me isn’t part of your job description. You serve in a purely advisory capacity.”

“So why aren’t I talking to Bautiste, then?”

“I was my brother’s consigliere for 25 years, so it makes more sense for me to talk to him. Bautiste and I go way back. He’s the one I cut a deal with so the Agrellas could bribe their own judges.” Fausto smiled consolingly. “In addition to the fact that he simply wouldn’t trust you.”

I wondered if that was because I was a newcomer…

Or a woman.

Either way, I didn’t give a shit. The fewer mafia hoodlums I had to interact with, the better.

“All of that’s very interesting, but I was talking about you swearing on your brother’s soul.”

“Oh,” Fausto said, finally understanding my original question. “In the Cosa Nostra, there’s a sort of tradition. If you want someone to trust you implicitly, you swear on something holy to you.”

“But… you swore on the soul of your brother,” I said in shock. “Who you had killed.”

“That’s because I couldn’t give a shit about Leo’s soul.”

Fausto never ceased to amaze me with the depths he could sink to.

I frowned. “Are you really going to give Florence to the Agrellas?”

“No, of course not,” he said, like I was being stupid.

“How are you going to get out of it without starting a war with them?”

Fausto smiled. “You can help me figure that out later for another ten million euros.”

At least I had job security.

Florence was a disaster.

Not only did the Turk’s men not grab Alessandra, but several of them got killed in the process.

One of them tagged Massimo, but it was only a minor wound.

As a result of the botched operation, Dario deduced the Turk was behind the attempt –

And that the Agrellas had helped.

Not only that, but Fausto had told Dario to take the meeting with the Turk.

If Fausto didn’t handle the situation exactly right, the brothers would suspect their uncle was plotting against them.

“SHIT!” Fausto snarled. “Now I have to do damage control because of that Turkish goat-fucker!”

In the end, it all turned out fine. Fausto and Aurelio went over to Dario’s estate the next day, and Fausto tap-danced his way out of suspicion.

But as a result of the hit, Dario tightened security.

There was no way to get Alessandra out of the house –

And thus no way for the Turk to sneak inside to kill the brothers.

Stalemate.

Fausto was furious. He was absolutely impossible to live with for several days, and I avoided him like the plague.

But then everything shifted in our favor.

In the end, it wasn’t a stroke of genius that delivered Alessandra into our grasp, but pure dumb luck.

The two lovebirds had a fight. Alessandra wanted to go back home.

Stupidly, Dario let her.

As soon as the Sicilian woman let us know, Fausto called the Turk.

Fausto was very careful to only contact the Turk using cheap cell phones that he would then immediately throw away. If the Turk failed and the brothers got hold of his cell, Fausto couldn’t risk the calls being traced back to him.

“The girl will be back at her father’s café within half an hour,” Fausto said.

“I’ll be waiting,” the Turk cackled.

The Turk called us after midnight to let us know he had Alessandra and was on the way to Dario’s mansion.

Once Alessandra showed him the secret tunnel she had escaped through, the rest would be easy.

“YES!” Fausto roared, then clamped down on his ebullience. “Be careful, though. My nephews are nothing if not wily.”

“I don’t care how wily they are – they’re as good as dead.”

Once more, I thought I might be on the verge of collecting my ten million euros –

And once more, catastrophe struck.

This time, it was even worse than the debacle in Florence.

We sat in the library till dawn, waiting for a call that never came.

Fausto sat hunched over in his chair, an agonized look on his face. “Even if the Turk failed, we should have heard from Filomena.”

“The Turk didn’t fail,” Aurelio said confidently.

“Then why haven’t we heard from him?” I challenged him.

Aurelio scowled at me, then turned to his father. “Let’s fucking call him.”

“What, and risk his phone ringing as he’s trying to sneak up on Dario? No,” Fausto said darkly. “He’ll contact us when he’s ready.”

The Turk never called.

But Niccolo did, shortly after 8 AM.

Fausto sat there with a sick look on his face but managed to sound relieved. “My God – I’m so sorry, Machiavelli… I never would have suggested you meet him if I’d known – ”

Niccolo cut him off with a vicious tirade. Even though Fausto didn’t have him on speakerphone, I could make out most of what he said.

“Apologies aren’t going to cut it, Fausto! Your fucking arrogance and stupidity nearly cost us our lives!” he raged.

I might have been trying to kill Niccolo…

But I liked him immensely at that moment.

There was more. Because Niccolo calmed down, I couldn’t hear what he said next –

But Fausto replied, “You’re joking,” in a sickly voice.

“Why would she do that?!” he asked, followed by, “WHAT?!”

From the one-sided conversation, I deduced that the Sicilian woman had failed, as well.

“Niccolo… please…” Fausto moaned, but Niccolo hung up on him.

Fausto’s face became a mask of hatred as he snarled at the dead phone. “Next time I’ll make SURE you’re dead, you little piece of shit.”

“What happened?!” Aurelio asked impatiently.

Fausto collapsed wearily in his chair. “Niccolo had surveillance cameras installed months ago. They saw the Turk coming a mile away.”

“So…?” Aurelio asked, eyes wide.

“So the Turk’s dead.”

Aurelio sagged like all the wind had gone out of his sails.

“What about the old Sicilian woman?” I asked.

Fausto laughed bitterly. “Filomena not only tried to kill Dario and failed… but in her final moments, she confessed to killing my brother Leonardo.”

Both Aurelio and I stared at him in horror.

“She didn’t… tell them about you, did she?” Aurelio whispered.

Fausto looked at his son contemptuously. “If she had, I’d have gotten a bullet in the head, not a fucking phone call.”

“So we’re back at square one,” I muttered.

“It would seem so,” Fausto said darkly. “I guess you’ll be staying here a while longer, Consigliere.”

We all sat there in a foul mood…

Until I put my hand out towards Aurelio. “Pay up.”

He looked at me in bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You bet me 10,000 euros the Turk wouldn’t fail. Pay up.”

“You’re doing this NOW?!” he hissed.

“What, too soon?” I snarked.

“Fuck you and your – ”

But Fausto interrupted him.

“PAY her,” he snarled, a look of vicious rage twisting his features.

Aurelio looked taken aback, but he went and got a wad of bills from his bedroom and grudgingly counted out my winnings.

To be honest, I was a little disappointed.

I didn’t give a shit about the money.

For me, it was all about putting Aurelio in his place.

I’d been expecting him to welch on the bet, and I’d planned to throw it back in his face every chance I got –

So when Fausto forced him to pay up, it ended my fun prematurely.

But maybe Aurelio’s moment of humiliation would teach him to be a bit less arrogant.

…though I doubted it.

And I was 100% correct.