Teresa chewed her lip, trying to hedge around the subject.
"Come on, what's going on, Teresa?"
She got up and went to stand by the shutters. "The one thing Domino had virtually settled was the sale of the villa and the orchards. We were offered a good price, Graziella signed the agreement, and Domino banked the deposit. Where in God's name that's gone to I don't know. I can't trace it, just as there are huge sums of cash I can't trace. ... It was supposedly all put into a Swiss account, but so far I haven't found it."
Back at the desk she handed Sophia a card. "That's Giuseppe Rocco, the card says real estate, it's a joke. He's a front man for the Corleone family, and they, Sophia, are the ones who have bought the Villa Rivera."
Sophia scanned the card. "So? Does it matter who we sell to? You said yourself it's a good price; that, added to the sales of all the various companies . . . Are we going to put them all under one contract? There're so many different sections, the warehouses, factory, docks, ships. Are we going for a complete sellout?"
Teresa sat down and took off her glasses. "That was my intention, to sell the lot. Just as it is their intention to buy us out lock, stock, and barrel. But that figure is all we get, Sophia. You see, their price for the villa, they insist, includes all rights to everything, warehouses, properties, everything you've just mentioned. And every day we do not accept their deal, the money goes down. They want possession as of five days from today."
Sophia stood up. "They can't do this."
"But they can, Sophia. And to make sure, they are cutting out every other possible buyer, seeing to it that no one stands against them. If we refuse, down goes the money, and they will let the company disintegrate."
Sophia stared at her sister-in-law blankly.
"It means, Sophia, all the work, all the money we took from Dante's club were a waste of time."
"They can't do this. Look, why don't I call Pirelli and ask him to help us?"
"Do you want to put Mama in danger? Rosa? We need someone to protect us, someone who knows the way the families work. So I've hired Johnny—"
"Oh, no, no way ..."
"Just listen! We can trust him because he has to trust us. One call to your precious Pirelli, and Johnny'll be arrested for Dante's murder. Besides, he's already agreed, and he's been more than helpful in setting it up."
Sophia folded her arms. "So you've already made up your mind whether I like it or not."
"You can back out. I've not even discussed it fully with the others because it is dangerous."
"Oh, yes? As dangerous as going against their offer?"
"Not if we work it right. We should be out of the country by the time what we've done becomes known."
"Did Moreno suggest this?"
"No, I put it to him, to see what he thought. The only way it's going to work is if we can stall them, somehow hold them off while we get ourselves ready to leave Palermo. We leave with all the contracts, every legal right to the entire Luciano holdings, still in our possession. We get to New York, and we sell to a guy called Michele Barzini, who's already made a reasonable offer to Mario Domino. This way we are clear of Sicily, and they won't want to get involved in a fight with the States. Even if they did, we wouldn't be part of it."
White-faced, Sophia said, "Dear God, Teresa, if they found out, wouldn't they send someone over to the States? They'd get us, wherever we were. ..."
"I know, and I've thought of that. We agree to sell only if they give us protection. If we are approached, we tell the Corleone family that we had no option, that Barzini threatened us. We have to play the innocent widows, incapable of dealing with the situation. That's how they think of us, so we play it to the hilt. Johnny thinks the only way we could possibly get away with it is to make sure the Corleones believe we are acting completely alone, have no idea what we are doing, have no one behind us."
"But, Teresa, we are alone, for God's sake."
"Except for Johnny. He'll look out for us until we get away."
Sophia's laugh was humorless. "One kid to protect four of us, Teresa?"
Teresa shouted, "So what do you suggest? Have you got any better ideas? Or do you just want us to accept the offer and get out? Haven't you been cheated enough? Used and betrayed enough? I have, and I won't take any more, Rosa won't—"
"You have to include Graziella."
"Of course, we can't do this without her. So, shall we call them both in and go through it?"
Sophia nodded. "I guess so. ..."
"I'll call them."
Sophia was still standing by the shutters when Rosa and Graziella came into the study. Teresa shut the door firmly behind them and returned, hesitancy, to sit behind the don's desk. She was slightly irritated that Sophia remained apart from them.
Graziella and Rosa sat, like two schoolgirls, on the chairs in front of the desk.
"Have you two been arguing?" asked Rosa.
"Tell them, Teresa, and get it over with." Sophia faced the room now, arms folded.
Luka had not been included in the meeting, but he listened at the door. There was a long silence; then he heard Teresa. She spoke quietly, and he had to press his head to the door to hear clearly.
"We had an offer for a buyout of the entire Luciano holdings, from an American, a man who, I am told, is a negotiator for a number of American families. Michele Barzini—-do you know him, Mama? Have you ever heard the name?"
Graziella shook her head. "Maybe I met him with Papa, but I met so many business associates. I remember a time, we used to stay—"
"Not now, Mama, this is important. You see, he has made a good offer, one that is acceptable, if not as much as we hoped for, and twenty times as good as the Corleones' offer. Their offer, which I believed was only for the villa, was for the entire company; they are insisting on a complete buyout. The contract for the sale of the villa, which we all have agreed is fair, has gone through, but it does not state anywhere that it includes all the Luciano holdings. But they have given us an ultimatum: Sell them everything, and for every day we hold out the price goes down. They will, I am assured, block any other family or company attempting to buy the business."
"Can they do this? I know we agreed to sell the villa. Mario Domino handled it, I know—"
"Mama, whether they can or can't is immaterial. They insist, and we are powerless to stop them. If we try, from here in Palermo, they will hold off any other offer. No one in Sicily will oppose them. Our only chance is in America; we sell to the Americans, to this man Barzini."
Sophia moved closer to the desk. "If we do this, we all are in danger."
Teresa turned on her. "Let me tell them, or are you taking over?"
Sophia snapped, "I am not taking over, for God's sake, but get to the point."
"That is what I'm trying to do, but Mama and Rosa have a right to know everything. ..."
Graziella leaned forward. "If we decide not to sell the villa, we pay back the money already paid by the Corleones, yes?"
"We can't do that, Mama; it's gone too far. We sell them the villa, as agreed, but then we have to stall them, long enough for us to get out of Italy and to New York. We have five days to do this; we have to leave without their having the slightest notion of our intentions. We leave Italy and go straight to Barzini. We ask for protection from his families, and we sell to the Americans."
Graziella pursed her lips. "Is he to be trusted?"
"His offer is good, and I have called to see if it still stands. He has agreed to meet me, so, yes, Mama, I think he is to be trusted."
Graziella folded her hands. "How much would we receive from this man Barzini?"
Teresa took a deep breath. "I'd ask for twenty million, but I would accept eighteen, possibly a little less."
"Dollars or lire?" asked Rosa.
Teresa snapped, "Dollars, Rosa, don't be so dumb. That'll be a good split for all of us." She was growing impatient. She looked at Sophia, but her sister-in-law had returned to her stand by the window.
Gr
aziella spoke up again. She was very calm. "Teresa, don't make us hurry. We must think this through, as Sophia said—"
"Mama, we don't have much time. We have to arrange our flights, leave here, travel to Rome. . . . We have a lot to organize, and only five days."
"I know. But what was Barzini's original offer?"
Teresa sighed and looked over the desk. "It was made just after the murders. Mario Domino seemed to think it was not enough. He made a memo to—"
Graziella interrupted. "How much?"
"Twenty-four million . . . dollars."
"So why ask for less? Ask for more than his original offer. We must not appear to be desperate in any way. We can negotiate when we are in New York."
Sophia turned slowly and stared at Graziella, hardly believing what she heard. Teresa moved fast, suddenly aware that Graziella was not opposed to her plan.
"Okay, do you want to put it to the vote? The more time we waste, the less we have left. So, if you all agree?"
Graziella held up her hand. "No, no, wait. You understand everything, Rosa?"
"She understands, Mama. You understand, don't you, Rosa?"
"No. I mean, what would we get if we just let the sale go through to the Corleones?"
Teresa sighed. "Okay, if we just sell the villa and everything else to them, we get about one million dollars between us. Then, from the smaller businesses, the ones they have no interest in, Sophia's warehouse, a shoe shop, a gas station, and some candy shops—"
"How much?" demanded Graziella.
"Maybe we'd clear two million, possibly two and a half."
Rosa looked at Graziella, then at her mother. "Okay . . . I say we go for it."
Graziella opened the safe. "Yes, I agree. And I think I have something that will help us. The less anyone knows about when and how we leave, the better."
They watched her take out a brown envelope. "These are passports, for me, for anyone. All in different names. Papa and I used them when we went to America."
Teresa smiled and held out her hand for them. "Thank you, Mama!"
Graziella's cheeks flushed. "We are together. That is all that is important; we are together."
Sophia sighed. "Yes, Mama, we are together, but this is not a game. It is very dangerous; we are going directly against a very powerful family—"
Graziella's eyes flashed. "I know the dangers, Sophia. I lived with them all my life. I played no part in them; I wanted no part. I stood by and watched, but no more. We have been cheated, we have been lied to, and now they try to force us to accept the crumbs they throw to us like whores in the street. We are not worthy of respect, of honor. Not one of these people, these so-called powerful families, came and gave us their justice. And if we went to the courts to beg for help now, we would not be given it. They have destroyed the Luciano name. No one gave Don Roberto justice for Michael; no one gave any of us justice. We are treated like the guilty, but we have committed no crime except that of loving. My sons, your husbands, Rosa's husband-to-be, my grandsons died. For what? Are we such nothings that we have no rights? Why not take what is ours, fight for what I almost lost for you? And if it's dangerous, we'll take care of each other!"
Sophia turned to Teresa. "Call Giuseppe Rocco. Stall him, ask for more time. Say we've got lots of last-minute packing to do."
Graziella nodded her approval. "And tell them to meet with us here, in the villa. Tell them to give Graziella Luciano the courtesy of calling on her. They should come to us!"
Rosa jumped up. "Mama, why not say we are delayed because we need to find a new, smaller home in Palermo, an apartment? Then they won't be suspicious."
Teresa smiled. "Okay, okay, but be quiet; let's hear what they say."
Rocco returned Teresa's call almost immediately. He said that Don Camilla of the Corleone family had agreed to meet with the widows, along with his advisers, at the Villa Rivera in three days.
The women had three days to organize the getaway. They were united now; there was no argument, no bickering. They packed everything Graziella wished to keep, and decided to use trusted men from the factory, old men, to take the crates away for storage. The evenings were spent going over every detail with Luka Carolla.
Luka was satisfied with the passport Enrico Dante had obtained for him in the name of Johnny Moreno since none of the newspapers had mentioned his alias. He was confident it was safe to travel with the women. He was unaware that police at every airport in Sicily and on the mainland were on the alert for someone using that name. The police computers carried a detailed description, and all the men had received the composite picture. Even if the Luciano women got away, Luka was sure to be arrested.
A major hitch developed at the last moment. Graziella received a summons to appear in court on the charge of attempting to murder Paul Carolla. Her lawyer said there was no way around it; she would have to appear, which might necessitate her traveling back to Sicily. After a hurried discussion they decided, as a precaution, that they all would leave the villa but that Graziella and Sophia would stay in Rome. They would give away their plane tickets at the airport, rather than exchange them.
Teresa suggested to Luka that he go with Graziella and Sophia in case of any trouble. He hesitated, wanting to leave haly more than they could have imagined, but in the end he agreed. Graziella would travel back to Palermo for the hearing, then fly directly with Sophia and Luka to New York.
When she was alone with Sophia, Teresa told her to ask her friend Pirelli for protection until they left Sicily.
Lisa Pirelli walked from room to room, complaining of the dust, the musty smell of the Palermo apartment. Then, while Pirelli opened his son's jigsaw puzzle, she slipped her arms around his neck. "Are you pleased to see us?"
He kissed her affectionately. "You'll see just how pleased tonight. ..." She giggled provocatively. "Are you going to be here for Christmas, Joe?"
He shrugged. "I hope not. We should wrap it up before then."
"I've read about the Carolla boy."
He sighed. "You and thousands of others, but we still can't trace him. He must have good contacts; somebody must be shielding him."
Lisa wrinkled her nose. "You wouldn't think they would, knowing what he did."
He gave her a glum smile. "You never can understand people, my dearest, particularly in Palermo. The place is a sewer."
His son rode his bike into the dining room and piped up, "See, I need a bigger bike. . . . And by Christmas I'll be even taller."
Pirelli gave him a wink and tapped his nose. "We'll see how many inches you can grow in three weeks. No promises, though."
He could see Sophia, hear her voice: "My babies, my babies ..." He put his arms around his son, hugging him tightly.
Lisa shouted from the kitchen that everything was ancient, she had never seen such an old gas stove. Pirelli heard the gas pop and ran to see if she was all right. She turned with the box of matches in her hand.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, minus an eyebrow. Have you cooked anything on this since you've been here?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. Never mind, I'll get it sorted out."
He put his arms around her, kissed her cheek. "I know you will, and I'm sorry about the vacation. Maybe at Christmas we can go skiing."
They held each other, and she looked into his eyes. "You seem tired. Why don't you lie down? And I'll come in and further exhaust you." He laughed, loosening his tie.
But as they reached the old iron bedstead, the phone rang. He pulled a face.
"Don't answer it, let it ring." She pulled him toward the bed, but he picked up the phone.
It was Ancora, who apologized, but he had a good fish on the hook, a con doing life who knew Luka Carolla and wanted to make a deal.
Pirelli sighed. "Can't you handle it?"
"Sure I can, just thought you'd like to be in on it. The guy is called Tony Sidona, used to work for Carolla. He was picked up as an accessory to the Lenny Cavataio murder."
L
isa was kissing Pirelli's neck now, undoing his shirt.
"I'll be there, wait for me," he said.
As soon as she heard the words, she flopped back, arms outstretched. "I don't believe it, I come for a weekend, I'm only here two minutes, and he's going out!"
He kissed her, grinning. "But I'll be back." As he reached the door, he turned again. "I love you. See you later, okay?"
Tony Sidona would talk only after it was agreed that the government would review his case, and he insisted on having it in writing, with his lawyer present. Pirelli, tired, wanting to get back to his wife, agreed to everything.
"Okay, let's hear what you have to say, and make it quick."
"You won't back down?" Sidona demanded.
"We've agreed to have your case reviewed. You know what that means: You'll get an early parole. So let's go."
"And nothin' I say will be used against me?"
"No," Pirelli growled, getting really angry. Ancora saw the eyebrows meet and wondered what had put him into such a foul mood. Then he remembered that Lisa had arrived.
Sidona received a brief nod from his lawyer. He began, "Okay, Carolla came to Palermo with me an' another guy. We both had worked for him in New York. His kid, this Luka you're looking for, nobody liked. He was a pain in the ass, real weird. He used to hang around the apartment, get in everyone's way; he was always hanging around."
Pirelli offered Sidona a cigarette, which he accepted but stuck behind his ear. "Did you ever see Carolla mistreat his son?"
"You must be kidding. He shelled out dough to the kid like peanuts, never asked what he was spendin' it on. Gave him a Porsche just before we came out here, two-hundred-and-fifty- thousand-dollar Porsche."
"You know the registration number?"
Sidona shook his head. "Carolla used to try everything to off-load his kid, get him some kinda work. He wasn't heavy in the brains department, got kicked out of every school."
Sidona spent ten minutes trying to remember the names of the schools, until at last Pirelli got one that he could check. He still needed a recent photograph of Luka Carolla.
Sidona continued. "Put him in a pizza parlor, kid was a fiasco. Tried him in a few gambling joints, you know, runnin' the bets. Fucked up." He rubbed his head. "There was one time I saw him lay into Luka. He found a cupboardful of weapons, a fuckin' arsenal in there. Carolla went apeshit; they were traceable. Stupid bastard had bought them over the counter, Jesus only knows where. We hadda chuck 'em."
BELLA MAFIA Page 37
