Still hungry, I hurried to complete the main course. The thick Barolo sauce with little plum and bacon cubes was ready, so I only needed the au-gratin-cooked spaghetti and the lamb cuts, fried à point again. For the decoration, I repeated my basil and cherry tomato creation.
With raised eyebrows, the Padrone sampled the first bite, but then his face changed to show pure delight. For this course, he took his time. I was in no hurry either this time, as my dessert still needed some more time in the fridge.
Upon a sign from him, Anna briefly disappeared, and then returned with four glasses and a bottle of red wine. The Padrone immediately took the latter. During unstopping and pouring, he made sure that I couldn’t see the label.
The wine splendidly matched my creation, but I only drank a few sips until I had finished my plate. Only thereafter, I took a long draft.
“Now?” He watched me with curiosity.
“What, now?”
“Now—what would you say about the wine?”
“An excellent choice with this course. A cuvee, naturally with a large share of Nero d’Avola, plus Shiraz, Merlot—and Sangiovese. Interesting.”
“And you can tell that after a few sips.”
“Yes.” Now I saw that I had made a mistake. Which street rat had ever had collected so much experience with good wine to taste the grapes in a blend?
Actually, it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t stay long enough in Palermo for it to make a difference. Moreover, it seemed wrong to me to lie to an honest restaurant keeper. “I’ve not always been in the streets.”
“No, that’s obvious. You know something about Dolce Vita.” He smiled. “What do you offer for dessert?”
“Coming.”
I rose and took my base from the ice. It yet had to be pureed and then poured into champagne glasses with a pastry bag. On top came a corner of a lime slice each.
“Please. Caipirinha sorbet.”
Padrone spooned the dessert up with patience, and then he sent Anna and Luigi back to the guests.
“I don’t need to tell you that all four courses were excellent—better than anything my restaurant ever saw. No, don’t argue. It was all done to the point and with a perfectly balanced taste—and I haven’t seen you trying it a single time. However, what impressed me most was your organization. I haven’t noticed any bustle. You knew from the start what had to be done, brought it into a manageable sequence and then pulled it through. Where did you learn that?”
“Learn?”
“Come on, don’t tell me. You have kitchen experience, I can see that. Where did you apprentice? Rome? Milano?”
“I’ve never worked in a kitchen in my entire life, Padrone. I’ve been waitress in a fast-food restaurant once. If I had to prepare my meal all by myself in the past, I’ve eaten it raw. Honestly.”
“Well then. If you’re not trying to pull my leg—where have you got it from, then?”
“I’ve transferred other experience. Assembling a meal isn’t that much different from assembling a reactor.”
“A reactor. And where did you learn that?”
“University of Melbourne.”
“Melbourne—Australia? And university—physics?”
“Dragon technology.”
Chapter Fifty-four
“Giovanna, I’m but an old cook, and I haven’t got around the world much. But you can’t tell me that you—with a Dragon technology graduation—need to live on the streets of Palermo like a hobo and can’t even afford shoes and bra.”
That made me grin. “Padrone, I never wear a bra. I don’t need one. For myself, I actually don’t need any clothes or shoes. But you’re right—I wouldn’t have to live like a hobo. I only do that to attract less attention. The Families seem to be somewhat nervous currently, and I’m a stranger.”
“I already had a suspicion—but you sound like you are from here. That deceived me.”
“Thank you. I’ve put quite some effort into the language.” With a little help of my Analogy.
Before we could delve deeper into the topic, a young man came in through the back door.
“Excuse me, Padrone!” he began excitedly. “I’ve been held back—they simply didn’t let me pass.”
Thereby, his gaze wandered back and forth between his Padrone and me—or better, my tits. What was a strange woman doing at the kitchen table with his Padrone and an apron, and most importantly, with a glass of red wine each?
“Who didn’t let you pass, Pablo?”
He gave me another nervous glance. “The—hum—Family. They’re checking everyone.”
“And what did you do to catch their attention?”
“Nothing, Padrone. I don’t know. Everything was as always. Honestly.”
“You are nervous,” I said. “They noticed.”
Pablo looked at me, irritated, and then back at his Padrone.
“Excuse me, Pablo. This is Giovanna. Giovanna came along tonight by chance. As you weren’t there, I’ve let her help out. Giovanna, this is Pablo, my lost kitchen aid.”
“Clear. Hello, Pablo.” I reached out my hand to him.
After hesitating briefly, he took it. “Hello, Giovanna.”
“So, what’s been going on, Pablo?” the Padrone now dug deeper. “Is it true, might you’ve been nervous?”
“Yees, maybe.”
“And why?”
“I—um—had a chat with Toni yesterday.” Again, his gaze went back and forth. “A friend in New York,” he explained. “Toni knew a few things.”
“What things?”
“Well, uh—about us, about Italy. The race is on here.”
“What race? Come on, Pablo, don’t let me drag it out of you. Sit down and tell us.”
“Fine.” Pablo sat down. “Toni wrote, there’s been a shoot-out near Rome. Friends have told him of helicopters and fighter planes. A country house was bombed and several helicopters were shot down.”
“That’s nonsense,” the Padrone commented. “Who should do such a thing?”
“Toni’s friends didn’t know, either. But it gets even better. Naples. There’s been a massacre, too—the Camorra shot down a bunch of people. Just so. Only—no one of the Camorra survived the massacre. Someone killed the entire gang.”
“Pardon? What’s going on there?”
“The day after, again people were gathered, Toni heard. There, the criminals didn’t get to start shooting.”
“Toni’s living in danger, and you are, too, you know that, do you? The Families don’t like it at all if someone records their activities.”
“’Twas just chat, Padrone. That’s not saved. In any case, the Carabinieri showed up. But the craziest thing is the reason for it.” Pablo leaned back. “That massacre was meant as revenge—for someone having killed the Capo dei Capi.”
“Holy Virgin Mary, no!”
“So, and now Toni asks, why was he in Naples and not in Rome? Because there was a big bang in Rome before. So, someone’s sounded the hunt on the Families. And that fits, Toni says, because the Cartel isn’t anymore.”
“What does that mean, the Cartel isn’t anymore?”
“Liquidated, broken up, arrested. There is no more Cartel in America. Toni knows that well, because he’s seen it all, when New York itself was freed. That must have been a gigantic bang, too. He writes, that was a single woman’s doing. Velvet.”
“A woman, bah. That’s not possible.”
“Toni says, if it’s now starting with us, she must be here. And that fits, he writes. The Camorra’s published a warrant in Naples. They’re looking for a short, dainty woman for the murder of their Capo. Toni says, the description matches Velvet.”
“Can be coincidence,” I chimed in. “There are lots of short women. Look at me.”
Pablo looked at me, but soon got stuck at my chest again. “Yes, but in Naples, that woman was active, the Capo was dead, and no one noticed how it had happened. That matches Velvet, Toni says.�
��
“Then I can understand that the Families are nervous,” I commented on. “There is—were—two supreme leaders, right? And if one of them ran to Naples, where did the other one go?”
It took a moment until the wheels in Padrone’s head had clicked into the right position. Pablo needed a few breaths longer. “Damn.”
“Exactly. And then you come walking along looking like someone who knows more than would be healthy.”
“I’ve always told you, restrain yourself,” the Padrone noted. “There, you see where it can get you. So, and now, make yourself useful and clean the kitchen.” With a glance at me, he added, “We’ll make room for you here. Giovanna, will you come outside with me?”
Chapter Fifty-five
The Padrone had something more on his mind, that much was obvious. I followed him out into the alley, where he first looked around, before he nailed me down with his gaze.
“There are lots of short women, Giovanna.”
I waited silently.
“How many of them studied Dragon physics?”
“At max, a handful.”
“Exactly. You’re a big exception, and I believe, if someone from Palermo would have studied such a subject, it would have been announced proudly and loudly. I’d know about it. Giovanna, you’re not from here. You’re not even Italian, are you?”
“No, I’m German.”
“German—well, no matter. Anyway—nothing of the stuff Pablo told was really new to you, or was it?”
“Such news gets around quickly.”
“No. Not hereabouts, where newspapers, radio, TV, and Italian-language websites are tightly monitored.”
“Normally not, no. But this news did.”
“Giovanna, don’t try to fool an old man. I’ve heard the name Velvet only once before, from a guest, and I shouldn’t have heard it then. I’ve pretended not to have noticed. I don’t know this woman, but she must be darn clever if she can walk all over the Cartel and the Families like this. I believe there aren’t many short women who are so smart. So smart that they even could study Dragon physics. No, wait. I also believe that you’re right with your suspicion why the Families are so nervous. They’ll expect this Velvet to come from Naples to us next. That means that a short, smart woman will come to Palermo or is already here. You are a short, smart woman. Tell me, how likely is it that two strange, short, smart women come here at the same time?”
“I tell you something, Padrone. You’re right when you say you shouldn’t have heard this name. This strange woman will come here, beat up the Families, kill the second Capo dei Capi and then leave again, but you’re staying here. The Carabinieri will continue to clean up among the Families, but you know better how firmly the Families are rooted in Sicily. You don’t want to have any business with those short, smart women. You only had a little street rat with a knack for cooking visiting, and in the face of the upcoming events, you’ll completely have forgotten about her by the end of next week.”
He smiled. “No, I don’t think that I’ll soon forget this menu, Giovanna. Or what’s your true name?”
“In German? Johanna. Giovanna comes closest.”
“Indeed. So, Giovanna—if that’s true, why did you give yourself away by cooking? And why did you tell me of your studies?”
“I was hungry. I hadn’t had breakfast or lunch. So, when the opportunity came, I wanted to treat myself to something good. Yes, and then I answered your questions truthfully, because I didn’t want to lie to you. After all, you were very generous when you let a simple street rat into your kitchen.”
“A putative street rat.”
“Currently, a genuine street rat. I don’t own anything but what I’m wearing.” And maybe a car that’s waiting in its hideout in France, because it would be much too flashy and immobile for me. Well, in fact I didn’t own it anymore, but at best it was still my property.
“That sounds sad. You don’t have a home?”
“No. Not anymore.”
“A family? Friends?”
“No.” Instead, I had a Dragon as Companion. Somehow that might count as family, too, but not the way the question was put. “No. There’s no man I could trust, no home, no job.”
“With whom do you celebrate Christmas, then?”
“I’ve never celebrated Christmas.” Not with my parents, because they hadn’t wanted to remind us that we didn’t have anything. Not in my job, as a brothel didn’t seem to be the right place for this festivity. Later, there hadn’t been the opportunity. Most recently, in jail, Christmas had only been a cause for the guards to have their candle raised—without me.
“Where do you belong then?”
That was a good question. “Everywhere and nowhere. I’m free as a bird.” Exactly. I was free game—cleared for shooting, dependent on my respective team members’ goodwill, whether they accepted me as I was, or would arrest me for illegal immigration.
At the same time, that was my prompt.
“In any case, I no longer belong here.” Saying that, I took off my apron, handed it to the Padrone and left him.
Chapter Fifty-six
The night was still young, I wasn’t tired yet, and I wasn’t through with my plans yet.
My target basically had two options to dig himself in—in his city villa or on his country cottage. Every other location would be an admission that he wouldn’t expect his Family to be able to protect him, and thus they were unthinkable.
By all I had extracted from Pietro, the two Capi’s reign was based on an unstable political balance. Only too gladly, the other families’ heads would assume this role themselves. So far, they had restrained themselves. After all, they didn’t want to jeopardize their control over this country. For the bribed policemen, the intimidated citizens, the ousted politicians, the factions of the Italian Mafia had to show closed ranks—to the outside, the impression that they could be played off against each other shouldn’t even arise. All that within an organization where occasional murder was part of the game and of new members’ initiation rites!
Which didn’t only apply to the Neapolitan Camorra or the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, but also to other organizations like the Calabrian ‘Ndrangheta.
Neither of these organizations would have desired to challenge the Cartel lead. The Cartel provided the Mafia with plasma guns and armor suits and commanded effective disciplining measures—or, more precisely, had commanded them. With Jana’s death and the subsequent arrest of the Cartel’s leading heads, this support for the Italian hierarchy had ceased to exist. In the last half year, there had been a delusive peace, as Pietro had put it, where more ambitious Mafia members only waited for their supreme Capi to make a mistake.
My Neapolitan Capo had made the most severe mistake—he had let himself be killed. The local Cosa Nostra Capo wouldn’t want to repeat this mistake, but at the same time he had to demonstrate strength to his competitors. So he couldn’t go into hiding. He had to show up, let me come, and take me down.
Should I play along in this game? If I succeeded, the path was clear for the next Capo to seize power. What would be the gain? I regarded it like the Billiard break-in—the solid structures had to be torn apart so that the ROS or other anti-Mafia forces could find weak points for their actions.
What would happen if I didn’t do anything? All involved would conclude that the Capo held the better hand. Not a good sign for the liberation of Italy from the reign of organized crime.
No, as so often, there was only one option—I had to dare an All In, although I knew that my life was part of the stakes.
The only question was where the game would take place. City or country? With regard to the strong presence of checkpoints all over the city I guessed the city villa—why should you secure Palermo if the show ran elsewhere?
I’d now check exactly this guess.
Partially in the shadows, partially over the rooftops, I approached my target. What ideas had the Capo’s men come up with?
>
For one, cars or vans with armed men inside were parking at every access road or alley, equipped with large-caliber rifles—that might be dangerous for an armor suit, too—and the usual sunglasses. Where were the UV spots then? And where were the respective fluorescent substances spread out?
I need UV sight.
Yeah, exactly. Some street lanterns radiated visible and ultraviolet light together. Only a little, but it sufficed to identify the sprayed areas. It also sufficed to expose how many feet already had passed these areas. So the tracks weren’t all too revealing anymore, especially not if someone only stepped into the available footprints.
Nevertheless, such an intruder would collect a little powder under his soles and scatter it beyond the sprayed zone again—this again would only stand out if the intruder didn’t continue stepping into the available footprints.
Interesting were those spots avoided by the tracks. Almost invisible tripwires or infrared light barriers spoke their own language, and I actually didn’t want to know what they’d trigger.
I had to check it out anyway, and not just for curiosity. Should I be forced to a hasty retreat, I’d better know what nasty traps I’d have to avoid.
The light barriers were connected with tiny senders—thus I had almost come to the end, because how should I determine the sender’s target? It could be a plain silent alarm or the trigger of a self-shot installation that aimed at just this spot.
Alone, I’d probably have missed the barrel of such a gun in the dark. My Analogy didn’t fail to notice such a detail, that is, the muzzle of a heavy machine gun in an unlit room behind a half-open window.
What had been linked to the tripwires then? A few dashes of paint quickly set me on track—improvised spray devices with paint that would tear any invisible person from his camouflage—as simple as it was clever.
All these traps were built in a way that they’d react to invisible intruders as well as to people who wanted to leave. But now that I knew them, I’d simply not trigger them.
Treason Page 14
