Rosanna was flustered, but hid it when she opened the door to Don Carlos. He was a handsome young man, around thirty years old, and he and his family had a reputation beyond belief. Normally, he went everywhere with his armed bodyguards at his side, so she was a little surprised to see him standing alone. The men had remained in the car.
Rosanna curtsied. ‘Don Carlos, you are most welcome. Please, will you come in?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ he said, and he crossed the threshold.
‘If you will come with me, please, I will let Mrs Lambrianu know you are here.’
He nodded, and Rosanna led the way to the lounge. She tapped on the door, then opened it.
‘Mrs Lambrianu, Don Carlos is here to see you.’ Rosanna curtsied again and left the room to make the coffee.
‘Please, come in, Don Carlos,’ Miriam said. ‘This is a rare occasion. Take a seat, make yourself at home.’ Miriam was on her guard. This man hadn’t wasted his time coming to see an old woman for nothing; what did he want?
‘Thank you,’ said Don Carlos. He set down the briefcase he carried and took a seat in an armchair. He was aware of the effect his visit was likely to have, and wanted to put Miriam at her ease. ‘Do not distress yourself, Mrs Lambrianu. May I be so bold as to call you Miriam?’
Miriam nodded. Don Carlos could be as charming as he was cold and calculating.
He smiled at her. ‘The vineyard is doing very well, I hear. It has a good reputation, and makes a lot of money. That’s good, I’m glad you are prospering.’
So, thought Miriam to herself, this is about the vineyard. I wonder how much he wants not to blow it up?
‘Thank you, Don Carlos. Is that what brings you here?’
As an old lady, and an old friend of his grandfather, she felt she could speak her mind and cut through all the charming formalities.
‘My grandfather set great store by your family, Miriam. He always told us of the great debt he owed your husband.’ He bowed his head slightly. ‘I was saddened to hear of Mr Lambrianu’s death. My condolences.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You may have heard my grandfather is also dead.’
Miriam nodded. ‘I was sorry to hear of it.’
Miriam also knew that Alfonso had been shot with a machine gun, many times, during one of his escapades. Apparently, he was so full of holes he couldn’t have an open casket, as was the tradition at an Italian Catholic funeral.
There was a tap at the door and Rosanna came in, carrying a tray on which stood the best silver coffee pot and the finest cups, in honour of their visitor. Don Carlos had been about to speak, but he held his tongue while Rosanna poured the coffee. She put a plate of homemade biscotti on the table, alongside the coffee things, then left the room.
‘Many times,’ said Don Carlos, as the door closed behind Rosanna, ‘my grandfather said he wanted to pay back the debt he owed your husband. He spoke of you both often. Your very kind and gracious husband would never accept money from him, nor, I believe, any favours. He had told my grandfather they were family, and families help each other.’
‘That’s correct,’ said Miriam. She sipped her coffee. She was getting tired of all this reminiscing about the past, she wished he would get to the point.
‘Maybe now I can repay this debt, so that I know my grandfather can truly rest in peace.’
‘I don’t want your money, Don Carlos.’ Miriam shook her head. ‘As you said yourself, your grandfather was a good friend – family, even. I don’t need your money, I have money of my own.’ She waved her hand around the room to prove her point.
‘I know, Miriam, I can see that. Your late husband’s “secret recipe” is famous and known all over the world.’ He nodded at her and smiled. ‘There are some things money can’t buy, though, aren’t there?’
Miriam looked at him quizzically. It seemed he wasn’t there to ask for money, and neither was he offering any. So, what was this about? What was it that money couldn’t buy?
‘I can see you’re tired, and I apologise for keeping you in suspense for so long.’ Don Carlos sat back in his seat. ‘There has long been talk about how you have tried to find your daughter-in-law and your grandson.’
‘It has been a sadness, to me, that they were never traced.’
‘Well, I am to pay my grandfather’s debt to you, but not with money.’ He sat forward, his eyes locked on Miriam’s. ‘I have found your grandson, Miriam. I have met Antonias Lambrianu, and I know where he is living.’
The words didn’t sink into Miriam’s brain at first. Could it be true? she thought. Has Don Carlos met Antonias? She had constantly prayed to God for news of Antonias, but now the news was coming from the very devil himself!
‘I know it’s been a long time since you saw him, but describe him to me. What features did he have?’
‘He was a very small boy when I last saw him, Don Carlos.’ Miriam wiped away a tear; she hoped this wasn’t some kind of trick. ‘His most striking features were his blonde hair and blue eyes.’ She stood up and walked over to a table on which stood an assortment of fancy frames containing family photographs. She selected one and took it to Don Carlos.
Don Carlos looked at the picture in the frame and nodded. The resemblance was undeniable, the young man who had gone out of his way to warn him that his own boss was going to double-cross him, who had risked his life for him, was the small boy in the picture.
‘In that case, Miriam, I have definitely found your grandson. Obviously, I had to check; blonde Italians are a rarity, indeed. There is a new problem now, however.’ He looked down at the floor and smiled.
Miriam wiped her eyes. ‘What is it? Is Antonias ill, Don Carlos? Please tell me, I’ve waited so many years for news of him.’
‘Fear not, he is well, I assure you. I was just thinking to myself how the world is a circle. You see, I have paid my grandfather’s debt, but I am now indebted to your grandson. He tried his best to warn me of great danger, and risked his own life doing it, should he have been found out.’
‘Forgive me, Don Carlos, but how did you meet Antonias? And what do you mean, he risked his life for you?’
Don Carlos looked at the ceiling, as though trying to gather his thoughts; he was actually deciding how much to tell her.
‘We are family, yes? And you know the Italian way, we look after each other, you have proved that. Antonias has made his way in the world as best he can, but he is involved with some, let’s say, unsavoury characters.’ Don Carlos paused; Miriam waited for him to continue. ‘At the moment, a diamond exchange is being negotiated. I’m not sure how involved he is, but he is involved, as am I.’ Don Carlos reached into his briefcase and took out a large folder, which he handed it to Miriam. ‘Antonias is a clever young man, which is remarkable, given his upbringing.’
Miriam took the folder from him. ‘What is this, Don Carlos?’
‘Before I came to see you, I wanted to check my facts. You are a great lady, and I didn’t want to raise false hopes and upset you.
‘Antonias was raised in foster care, after a very difficult early childhood. All the facts are in there but, be warned, it does not make for very nice reading. His address and location are in the back of the folder.’ Don Carlos stood up to leave.
He reached out and took Miriam’s hand, kissed the back of it, then smiled at her. He hoped, now, that both she and his grandfather would find peace.
Don Carlos or not, Miriam went forward and put her arms around him and hugged him.
‘Thank you, Don Carlos. How can I truly say thank you? This is no insult to your grandfather’s debt, I just want to express my gratitude for the kindness you have shown to an old woman.’
Don Carlos knew she wanted to give him a gift; she was an old Italian woman, and it was the way.
‘I hear you have some very good claret wines in your stores, Miriam, very good wine to go with a good meal.’
Miriam nodded, then went to the door and opened it. ‘Rosanna!’ she shouted. ‘Get the
men to put as many boxes of the finest claret as will fit into Don Carlos’s car.’ She returned to her guest.
‘God bless you, Don Carlos.’ Miriam hugged him again. Now Don Carlos was grateful he had been wise enough not to bring any of his men in with him. He felt like a small child, in her embrace.
‘Good luck in your reconciliation, Miriam, I wish you well.’ He turned to leave. He smiled to himself as he headed to the door, thinking how sorry he felt for Antonias. If Miriam had hugged him like that for news of the boy, what she would do when she finally met her grandson? God help him!
Miriam wiped away her tears. She looked out of the window, watching Don Carlos climb into his car. She could see the factory workers still putting boxes of her very best, expensive claret wine into the large vehicle. It was a small price to pay for the news he had brought.
‘Rosanna, Rosanna!’ she shouted, again.
‘Yes?’ said Rosanna, as she trotted into the hall.
‘Pack the cases, and book us both a flight. We are going to England.’
Miriam bent down to the table and picked up the folder Don Carlos had given her. All these pages were filled with her grandson’s life. Everything she had always wanted to know about her grandson was there. She couldn’t help but cry, as she sat down and opened it.
Don Carlos had been right; this had been no life for her beautiful grandson. She started to cry again, feeling the pain and anguish he must have felt at times, thinking no one cared about him.
Don Carlos had said that Antonias looked well enough, and she knew he wouldn’t lie to her about something like that. What did he look like now? He would be a grown man; the last time she had seen him he was a small child. It was finally time to meet him again.
FAMILY TIES
Now she was in London, Miriam didn’t know what to expect. She had read every word of the files in the folder Don Carlos had given her and they told a pitiful, heartbreaking story.
She wasn’t sure of the best way to contact Antonias, and she didn’t expect a warm family reunion, when she did. Why would he care? He didn’t know who she was, or what had happened to make his mother run away. Now she had been given this opportunity, she had to admit to herself she was nervous – a little frightened, even – but also excited.
Rosanna had rented the penthouse suite in a large hotel in the centre of London, and she had made the rooms look as much like home as possible. Miriam had insisted many family photos went with them. That way, she felt she could at least prove who she was and show the young man his father and grandfather.
What was it Don Carlos had said? Antonias was involved in some diamond exchange. She wasn’t stupid, she knew he meant robbery, theft, whatever, and as Don Carlos was involved in import and export, there were no guesses as to his involvement.
***
‘Tony, there’s a courier at the door, he’s asking for you. There’s a package you need to sign for,’ Elle shouted up the stairs.
Tony was in his bedroom, getting ready for work. A courier with a package for him? He hadn’t ordered anything. He ran down the stairs to see what it was. The motorbike courier stood at the door. He held out an envelope, and a receipt pad, for Tony to sign.
Tony’s first thought was that maybe it was something from the bossman, but no – surely, he would just send Eddie around, as usual. He thanked the courier and walked into the lounge, with Elle hot on his heels.
Tony ripped open the envelope and found an invitation card inside. It was white, with gold embossed writing on the front. He looked at the card, and then at Elle. He thought there must have been some mistake, nobody sent him posh invitation cards.
He opened it and was surprised to see that the writing inside the card was in Italian. It was an invitation to tea. Tony figured it must be from the Italian guy he had met at the hotel, when he had gone to interpret for the bossman.
He wasn’t too surprised that this man knew his address; he seemed to know everything.
‘When is it for, Tony? Come on, tell me again what it says.’ Elle was excited, even though it wasn’t for her. Tony read it aloud again, in Italian, and grinned.
‘Tea, tomorrow, at a flash hotel. I presume it’s from some rich guy I did some work for, a few weeks ago. He must be back in town.’
After work, that evening, he went around to show Jake the card. He seemed very impressed, and handed it across the table to show Sharon.
‘I bet it’s from that Italian guy I told you about, do you remember? Maybe he wants me to do some work for him.’ Tony talked enthusiastically about how the men that worked for the Italian were well-dressed and looked smart, and how maybe he could look like that. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Jake had asked if Tony wanted him to go with him, or at least wait outside. What if this Italian had told the bossman Tony had informed on him? It could be a trap, he could end up being shot or something.
Tony assured him all was well. For some strange reason, he trusted the Italian; he didn’t know why, but he felt he was a man of his word.
***
Next day, Tony arrived at the hotel in his best suit and tie, and the freshly ironed shirt Elle had prepared for him. He was excited, and he was also very impressed. He was to go to the penthouse suite; the lift seemed to take forever to reach the top.
Tony knocked on the door, expecting one of the men who had been with the Italian to answer it, but instead it was a woman he didn’t recognize. She opened the door and smiled at him, then turned and said, ‘Mr Antonias is here, Miriam.’ She opened the door wider, for him to step in.
His brows furrowed; he was puzzled by this. Instead of the Italian man he was expecting, he saw an old woman, sitting in a chair. In front of her was a large coffee table, filled with all kinds of sandwiches and cakes.
Miriam felt sick inside with anticipation; the young man standing in the doorway was her grandson. She had still mentally pictured him as the little boy who had lived with her, but here he was, an adult man. He had Annette’s blonde hair, but her eyes. ‘Blue as the Mediterranean Sea,’ Fredo used to say to her.
She could see he was uncomfortable with the situation, as he didn’t know what was going on. It was time to put him out of his misery. She stood up to greet him.
‘Come in, Antonias, my boy, come, and sit down.’ Miriam could not help but admire this tall, handsome young man.
Tony walked forward; he was looking around the room, expecting someone else to come out of one of the doors. He wondered, how does she know my name? He felt ill at ease, the situation was strange.
‘Don’t be nervous, Antonias; please, sit.’ Miriam indicated one of the large armchairs in the room.
‘Who are you?’ Tony said. He wanted to be respectful because of her age, but there had obviously been some kind of mistake. And yet, she seemed to know him. How?
Again, Miriam pointed to the chair, and he had no choice but to sit down opposite her. ‘I’m your Italian grandmother, Antonias.’ The introduction was short and sweet, and not what Miriam had anticipated.
Many was the time she had played this scenario around in her mind and imagined what she would say, but now she was lost for words. She saw the shocked look he gave her, his face had paled. Miriam indicated to Rosanna to pour some coffee.
‘My grandmother,’ Tony repeated. ‘Since when? I don’t have a grandmother, I don’t have anyone but Jake and Elle. If this is some kind of weird joke, you can go to hell, old lady.’ He stood up to leave.
Miriam had to think quickly; she had read the file about him being fostered by Elle, a kind woman who had taken him in and looked after him. She also knew a little about Jake, who had also been fostered by the same woman.
‘I’m sorry to hear about Annette’s death,’ said Miriam. She thought the mention of his mother might just make him think again about leaving. Not a lot of people would know about her.
Tony turned. His face was red; Miriam could see she had touched a nerve and he was angry.
‘How do you know A
nnette? Who the hell are you, old lady? I don’t need this,’ he shouted.
‘Annette was your mother, Antonias, she was my daughter-in-law. Look.’ Miriam showed him the framed photographs she had brought with her. She was glad she had them, because the meeting wasn’t going as well as she would have liked.
Tony looked at the photos; they were definitely of his mother. She stood alongside a man, and a small boy, with blonde hair. He wanted to be sick; he could feel the bile rising in his throat. He had put his mother to the back of his mind all these years, and now it seemed she had come back from the dead to haunt him.
He looked at the photo again. The man standing with his mother looked familiar; it was the same man his mother had a photo of in the locket she left him.
Tony put his hand to his mouth, and looked at Rosanna. It was obvious he was going to vomit. Rosanna pointed to the bathroom door and Tony hurried inside.
The two women waited, not speaking, for Tony to return. When he eventually did, he went and sat down opposite Miriam. He felt more composed now.
‘Don Carlos told me where to find you,’ she said. ‘I believe you met him a while ago. He recognized your name at once. Thankfully, everyone knows I have been searching for you for eighteen years and so he came to tell me he had found you.’ To prove her point and make him believe her, she carried on, even knowing she was on dangerous ground. ‘I believe you had a meeting to discuss something about diamonds.’
Tony raised his head and stared at her; she could see he was trying to think of something to say.
‘Who’s Don Carlos?’ he said after a pause. Tony didn’t know who she was talking about, and yet she knew about the diamonds.
‘Don Carlos, the Mafia boss. He says he met you, and you warned him about something. Is that not so, Antonias?’ Now Miriam was confused, that is what Don Carlos had told her.
Tony realised he had never asked the Italian man his name. Mafia boss? It all sounded a bit farfetched, but why would this old lady make up something like that? To impress him?
Dangerous Games Page 15
