by Emma Nichols
“Lombardo won’t hold up their own goods through the port.”
Alessandro revealed his cosmetic smile, and his eyes widened. He turned to Beto. “You need to go to Chico and explain the situation.”
Beto stared at Alessandro, and his skin paled. “Going to Chico with this news is suicide, Alessandro.”
Alessandro went to Beto, put his hands firmly on his shoulders, and stared deeply into his eyes. It wasn’t clear whether he was threatening him or putting on a display of comradery to convey his trust in him.
“If anyone can persuade Don Chico, you can, Beto. You’ll make a compelling case, my friend,” he said softly.
Beto winced as Alessandro squeezed his shoulder tightly, and his head tilted towards the white-knuckled grip.
Beto lifted his chin. “I’ll arrange to meet with Chico.”
Alessandro sniffed and wiped his cuff across his nose. His eyes made jittery movements and then settled on Patrina. He relaxed his hand on Beto’s shoulder.
“Soon, Beto. Soon.”
Beto nodded. Alessandro turned to Beto and patted his left cheek hard, three times. Beto took the blows with gritted teeth, and his eyes watered.
Alessandro turned back to Patrina. “You will speak to our cousins in Spain, Auntie?”
Patrina smiled. Good. He feels as though he is in control. “I will talk with Miguel.” Miguel Gama wouldn’t be her first choice boss to align forces with, but he was the most powerful leader of organised crime in Spain. If they needed to ensure the transit of cocaine to Sicily through Lombardo’s cement supplies, then he would be the man who could arrange it. She had another plan though. The price would be high but leveraging Gama’s support would benefit them in containing the ‘Ndrangheta. She needed this partnership to work to their advantage, for the future…her future. She looked to Beto. “Tell Chico we just need more time. A couple of
weeks, if you can get it. Explain that the unions are causing trouble at the port. He needs to know we have that situation under our control.”
Beto looked from Patrina to Alessandro then walked from the café like a man heading to the gallows. Alessandro clicked his fingers at the woman behind the bar. She brought over a carafe of wine and set it down on the table. He pawed under her skirt, and she smiled seductively, lowered herself to his lap, and put an arm around his neck. She kissed his cheek. He smiled at her then pushed her away. He poured a glass of wine and slugged it back in one hit, then fire flashed through his eyes.
“That fucking pussy whore needs a lesson, once and for all.”
Patrina stared at him, her insides flaming. She would always defend Maria, no matter what had passed between them. She loved Maria. She always had and always would. She smiled through the burning sensation and breathed deeply. The tension subsided a fraction. She saw Alessandro’s death in the vision in her mind, and the tension softened. She reached out and stroked the dead man, though his cheeks flushed, and she blinked away her desire. “We need to stay focused, Alessandro.”
21.
Maria stepped out of the hire car and walked slowly across the damp car park, taking care to avoid the freestanding water that stunk of urine and glistened with engine oil. Giovanni remained in the car, as instructed, watching her back. She became aware of the rifle pointing at Giovanni from the open window of the adjoining derelict building as she approached the parked car.
The hairs standing to attention on her bare arms and the chill that crawled beneath her short-sleeved cotton shirt had little to do with the slightly cooler weather in Florence and everything to do with the heightened state that came with taking this meeting. The ‘Ndrangheta’s reputation as the fastest growing organised crime group on mainland Italy had been well earned. She respected that. Everyone knew who Don Chico Calabrian was. He and his crew were feared across the country. But the Lombardos were respected too, and she was banking on that being enough for the Italian gang leader to consider her offer.
She had seen her own death a thousand times over, rehearsed this walk, the foul stench that filled her nostrils, and the cool air brushing her skin. The faces were different each time, but the feeling growing within her was the same. Intense, pervasive, and it wasn’t going away any time soon.
She forced her ribs to concede to her breath as she approached the parked saloon car.
Three men sat inside the ‘Ndrangheta’s car and a fourth man stood outside the vehicle. There was little reassurance having Giovanni close by.
He would be taken out before her if Don Chico didn’t like what she had to offer. Her too. She was relying on tradition. Respect between Dons.
She held out her arms, palms up, and stood a few paces from the vehicle. The young man was fresh-faced, clean shaven, and shorter in stature than her, and no more than twenty, she guessed. As he approached, he looked more terrified than she felt. He stared at her as if assessing how she might respond to his instructions and then tentatively, he patted her down. Gender was meaningless, and she wasn’t about to make a point as she would be inclined to do in Patrina’s presence. He reeked of fresh sweat and stale cigarettes.
She didn’t flinch. He looked to the silhouette in the back of the car, the man’s features obscured by the thick tinted glass, and nodded. The man in the back of the vehicle opened the car door and stepped onto the concrete. He straightened his jacket then slicked back his grey hair as he walked towards her. The young henchman stepped back, pulled a gun from his waist, and directed it at her. She gave him a steady look, took a slow deep breath, and turned her attention to the older man in his mid-fifties. His eyes said he had seen life, and his smile said he was in control of his destiny. “Don Calabrian.”
His teeth were bright white and his eyes dark as he looked her up and down. “You are every bit as beautiful as I was informed.”
Her racing heart stilled with her distaste of him. She moved her tongue around her mouth and parted her lips, then smiled warmly. “You are well respected, Don Calabrian.” She held out her hand and tilted her head to him.
He looked at her hand briefly before he shook it, then looked back up into her eyes. “You have an offer?”
“Yes, Don Calabrian.”
He shrugged. “Well?”
“We can generate greater returns for your business.”
He frowned. “Why should I work with you when I already have an open door to Sicily?”
She looked into his eyes. “I understand. Our family knows the Amatos well.” She took a deep breath and rested her hands on her hips.
The man with the gun clicked the trigger back. She looked at him without smiling then turned to Don Chico. “Your recent consignment did not reach its destination.”
Chico made a huffing noise and flicked his hand as if dismissing Maria’s comment. “That is not my problem.”
“Don Calabrian, I know your business partner well. I wish to offer you a better deal and a personal guarantee.” Maria waited. The silence was thick and heavy. She already regretted trying to make this deal, and it wasn’t even done yet.
“Seventy-thirty.”
Her expression remained passive to the demands she could not accept. “Don Calabrian, that is not possible.”
“That’s my price.”
Maria noted the roof of the car park and the hire car in the corner of her eye. She looked to her feet where the steel girders from above her dripped water that splashed on the concrete and tainted the shine on her shoes. She took a pace back to avoid the grime, and the gunman took a step closer. She raised her hand slowly, gesturing him to stop, then looked at Don Chico. Even if she wanted to accept a lesser deal and run, she couldn’t.
If she conceded too easily, he would lose respect for her. “You have fifty-fifty with our friends. We can honour the same, and we can look at increasing the shipments through the port. We have strong relationships with our cousins in Spain that might be of use to you.” She cursed herself, but she had no choice. She had to offer something significant to attract the Don’s attention, and
she would deal with the consequences later.
She stood still, while the dripping water sounded like thunder in the quiet of the warehouse. She tensed against the pounding against her ribs and inched taller.
Don Chico continued to stare at her. She remained steadfast and resolute in her offer. His eyes narrowed, and she saw a spark of amusement.
His lips curled upward a fraction. “Sixty-forty.”
He was toying with her to see how far she would push. She wouldn’t be bated. She frowned. “I can’t accept that. You understand how it is, Don Calabrian. My men would lose respect for me if I made promises that we cannot deliver.”
Don Chico’s laugh reverberated around the cavernous space. “You have balls.”
Maria half-smiled. “Fifty-fifty.”
“Ha. My men would lose respect if I did not improve our situation.”
He shook his head.
“And you will improve it with access to the Spanish.” She shrugged.
He thinned his lips and inhaled deeply. For a fleeting moment, his focus shifted. Maria could see him wavering but waited patiently for his response.
“Fifty-five, forty-five.”
“Fifty-fifty and the Spanish connection.” Her response was swift and decisive, her gaze unrelenting and showing no weakness. She felt his glare soften.
He lifted his chin and turned away from her. “I will be in touch.”
She waited until he was settled in his car with the henchman at his side. The car wheels squealed, and the vehicle sped from the car park, and she breathed in the dank, vile stench that surrounded her. A chill washed over her, bile rose from her stomach, and she swallowed it down. Her hands trembled and her heart thundered as she walked towards Giovanni who stood next to the hire car. She wiped away the sweat that trickled down her temples and nodded to him. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she retrieved it.
Giovanni released a long breath and then frowned. “What is it?”
“Beto is on his way to meet Don Calabrian.”
Giovanni rolled his eyes.
“I have to get back to Sicily. I have a meeting in Spain, Giovanni. I need you to stay here and watch.”
“Okay.”
Maria glanced around the car park. “At a distance, Giovanni. Don’t compromise yourself.” She closed her eyes briefly, not wanting to entertain the possibility of someone taking him out. She wasn’t certain she could bear it so soon after losing her father.
22.
The drive from Valencia airport to the Lombardo Cement Works on the outskirts of the city brought a smile to Maria’s face despite the large volume of traffic slowing her journey. Tapping her fingers to the music from the radio, she revisited the memory of Simone as she had just left her in the hotel.
Simone’s warm, damp skin had shimmered and sweat had pooled in the pit of her soft stomach. Through gritted teeth, Simone had tensed at her touch, and screamed out, and fallen into a quivering heap. They had laughed uncontrollably and kissed until Maria had needed to shower and leave.
Maria’s smile softened her vision, and the resonance of Simone in rapture fluttered in her chest. God, I love her. She sighed and took a left off the highway.
Beto’s image came to her, and the lightness in her chest became suddenly dense. She had noted the way Beto looked at Alessandro. It was clear he had no respect for his boss. Beto wasn’t like Alessandro, and he didn’t deserve to die for the fat man.
Don Chico hadn’t taken too kindly to Alessandro sending his lacky to the meeting. It was a mark of disrespect, and he had put two bullets into Beto as a reminder to the Amatos that they had a debt that needed paying.
One week for each bullet, and two weeks to pay what they owed. Luckily for Beto, Giovanni saw the incident and had Beto’s wounds tended to before he bled to his death. The fat pig’s image lodged in her awareness and a shiver passed down her spine. She hadn’t thought herself capable of hating someone as much as she detested Alessandro. Perhaps Vittorio wasn’t such a bad judge in this case after all.
She turned her attention to the scenery, the road ahead, and enjoyed the wind on her face. Open fields spanned both sides of the road, and the concrete towers at the plant grew in stature as she got closer. Her thoughts drifted. The air was fresh and clean by comparison with the stench of the car park in Florence. She inhaled deeply. I have to leave Sicily. Don Chico type meetings would always be needed in this job and someone would always end up hurt or dead.
She turned into the site, flashed her passport ID to the security guard, and smiled. He opened the gates to the compound, and she drove to the site offices.
Preferring to stand while she waited in the reception, her heart raced with anticipation and hope. She had longed for this moment for as long as she could remember, and now it had arrived. She looked through the large glass panels at the tall concrete towers with large sprawling arms and gurgling chutes feeding greedy trucks that moved slowly across the site.
The site was even more impressive close up. The uniformity and precision of the operation brought a smile and warmth settled her.
“Donna Maria.”
The deep soft voice came from behind her. She turned and smiled at Rafael’s bright eyes. She approached him with open arms. “Rafael. How are you? The family?”
His cheeks flushed as he grinned. “We are all well, thank you, Maria.” He pulled her into his arms then held her away from him and studied her. “You look well.”
“Thank you.” She looked over his shoulder towards the door that led into the hub of the building. “Is he here?”
Rafael nodded. “He has the paperwork ready for you.”
She followed him to the director’s boardroom.
A short, suited man stood as she entered the room. He smiled at her and held out his hand. She glanced briefly at the paperwork neatly laid out on the table in front of him as she shook his hand.
“Buenos días, señorita Sanchez? It is a pleasure to meet you,” the man said.
“Buenos días, señor.” Her hands trembled though she didn’t let it show. She removed the passport from her jacket pocket and handed it over to him.
He studied the photograph and then Maria’s face. He maintained an official, stern look as he opened the documents and transferred the information needed from the identification she had provided to his forms.
Then he passed the completed documents across the table and smiled faintly.
“Could you please sign at the crosses as indicated on the forms, Ms Sanchez?”
Maria sat and duly signed each of the forms, and one by one slid them back to him. He took a set of the documents and handed a second set to Maria.
“These are for your safekeeping.” He delved into his bag, pulled out two bunches of keys, and handed them to her. “Felicidades, señorita.” He packed the paperwork into his briefcase and looked at Maria as he stood.
“Everything is in order.”
“The transit will progress?” she asked.
“Sì, señorita. We have those details as Palermo with a delivery in two weeks’ time. We do not foresee a problem but if one arises, we will contact the offices here as per your request.”
“Muchas gracias.” She held out her hand. Again, the Spanish language rolled off her tongue as if she were native to the country, and the man acknowledged her as such.
He shook her hand and smiled. “Buenos días, Señorita Sanchez.”
Her spirit lifted as the deal was concluded. “Buenos días.”
Rafael escorted the man from the boardroom and gave Maria a quick, congratulatory smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them.
Maria glanced at the paperwork, and the quivering in her stomach spread to her hands. Yes, yes, yes. She looked around the room and through the glass panel that spanned the length of the corridor on the other side, hoping she wasn’t being watched. She released a deep breath and clasped her hand to her chest. It’s happening. She paced the boardroom to stop herself from bursting or voicing her
delight with screams that would have made her look a little crazy. She congratulated herself then admonished her overzealousness. She had to maintain her composure. Discipline. Control. It might be one small step closer to realising her dream, but the situation was still shrouded in uncertainty. It was too early to celebrate.
Her parents had always known how she craved to leave Sicily. Her father had supported her as best he could along the way, but even he probably never thought she would actually leave. Her mother had made it clear she would rather Maria stayed in Sicily, but that could never happen if Maria wanted to be happy. Had it not been for her father’s death she might well have left already. But then she would never have met Simone.
She had spilled her wishes for a different future to Simone without thinking, like picking up on a call with a soul mate she’d known for a
million years. The code of silence was there to protect those you love. Had she broken the code? Bringing Simone to Valencia and the Pyrenees was a risk. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Her actions around Simone defied logic.
This was what love did to you. It was dangerous to lose her capacity to think and to be controlled by strong emotions. She closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t live to regret the weakness that afflicted her. The image of the cruiser she had just purchased came to her, and she opened her eyes and smiled.
The Octavia was a key part of the plan. She had done everything possible to ensure the cruiser couldn’t be linked back to her. The owner, Mariella Sanchez, was a woman of Spanish origin who would be untraceable should anyone come looking.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again. Her heart slowed with her thoughts. She couldn’t tell Simone about the boat or her identity.
Not yet. It was too risky. She turned as the door to the boardroom opened and smiled at Rafael.
“Congratulations, Maria.”
“Thank you, Rafael.”
“Please, take a seat. Would you like a drink?”
Maria nodded and a woman came into the room with two cups of freshly brewed coffee. Rafael smiled at her as she set them on the table, remaining silent until the woman had left the room.
