Capo

by Peter Watson

  So far as Silvio could tell, no one had spotted him. The only problem was that the sea was beginning to get choppy and a light breeze had sprung up. That made hearing difficult.

  He fingered the gun in his pocket. He might only be eighteen but guns had been part of his life as long as he could remember. He had seen countless animals slaughtered by lupara, and he had now seen—he counted swiftly—fourteen people killed by guns, if he included the Lazio soldiers shot in the quarry. And Gaetano Mancuso.

  He liked guns. He liked their heaviness, their solidity, the very fact that there was no doubt about their purpose. He thought pistols and revolvers—revolvers especially—were beautiful, so clean, smooth, and shiny, with absolutely no waste about them. Rifles and shotguns he liked less. They were ungainly, he thought.… Footsteps were approaching. He stepped back into the shadows and held his breath.

  Two women went by, two old women, obviously taking the night air before turning in. “Thank you for rescuing me from the casino,” he heard one say to the other. “I’d already lost far too much and …” But the rest was lost on the breeze.

  Time was passing. He didn’t know how much exactly. He had been forced to give Bastiano’s watch back to him and now didn’t have one. If their lure didn’t work on the first night, they had decided, then they had to join up again not long after two, when Nino had finished his drink at the casino. Nino had said he would come down the stairs near where Silvio was hiding. So long as there was no one around, they could join up there and then.

  Sure enough, at about a quarter past two there was a clatter from above, and when it stopped, Nino stepped out onto the deck. He looked up and down the ship, then whispered, “Silvio!”

  Silvio moved out of the shadows.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No, just two old women who’d lost at the casino. You?”

  “No. But I made a discovery. Tomorrow is the barman’s night off.”

  “So?”

  “My guess is this: The barman sold us out. He won’t want to be anywhere near when the trouble starts. He wants to be able to say he was safely tucked up in his bunk. He wants an alibi. My guess is they’ll come tomorrow night.”

  It was a nerve-racking day. At least it was for Silvio. Nino seemed to take it in his stride easily enough, sleeping all morning, cleaning the gun that Silvio would use, singing in the shower down the corridor.

  Silvio spent a lot of the time daydreaming about Annunziata. Now that he’d slept with Anna-Maria, he was—well, if not yet a man, well on the way to it. There were things he could teach Annunziata now, little ways he could bring her pleasure. That morning on the mountain … the morning the bivio had been attacked, he had been surprised at the pleasure she had shown when he had bitten her nipples. How could he have been so naive! Anna Maria had shown him much more than that, and now he imagined himself showing Annunziata, imagined her moving on the straw mattresses of the bivio, moving and moaning in a way that, even as he gazed out to the empty sea, thousands of miles from her, made him aroused.

  Of course, he didn’t mention any of this to Anna-Maria, when they danced that night during dinner. Instead, he brought her up to date on what had happened the night before.

  “That makes sense,” she said, when Silvio told her about Nino’s theory.

  “You seem used to this sort of thing.”

  “You never get used to it, Silvio, but you see it. It goes on in Palermo, it goes on in New Orleans, why shouldn’t it go on aboard ship on its way between the two?”

  “Aren’t you ever frightened?”

  “Of course I am. I’m frightened for your sake, I’m frightened—a bit—for Nino’s. But I’ll give you a tip, Silvio, from a woman who … well, who’s had her ups and downs. Never, never, show your fear. Always remember two things: not to underestimate your opponent, and that he is probably just as frightened as you but is maybe better at concealing it. It’s the same with women; the more frightening you find them, the more nonchalant you must appear.”

  “Are women always a man’s opponents, then?”

  She grinned. “If it does happen tonight—and I feel that it will—and if you win, come to cabin 715 afterward. I’ve got a small supply of something that makes sex even better.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll tell you once you’ve earned it.”

  It was rougher than the previous night. Silvio had been on mules that gave a smoother ride than this ship. And it was darker. He was well hidden behind the ventilator shaft and had been standing in position for more than twenty minutes, or so he judged. But he would have a problem hearing any commotion on the deck above, and the ship was rocking so much that anything might happen in a fight.

  Silvio was apprehensive, to put it mildly. He was tall and well built, but he knew that older men had filled out and were more muscular than he was, at eighteen. He knew he was nimble, but he had never really experienced prolonged pain, and if he was knifed in a fight, he was worried how he would react. He might let Nino down; or himself.

  The wind gusted and the Syracusa dropped suddenly between two waves, creaking all over the place. Silvio wondered about those creakings. Was this ship as safe as—

  That noise! Was it running feet, on the deck above? He strained to hear. They had both accepted that Nino couldn’t just call out “Silvio!” the moment something happened. Silvio needed to take the attackers by surprise. But was the attack already happening? He couldn’t be sure.

  He leaned forward. Was that a thud he heard? A grunt? More running feet? He ventured out from behind the ventilator. He had to hear better. He stood at the foot of the staircase.

  Then he heard a scream. It was muted, but it was definitely a scream. Nino had been cut!

  He took out his gun and leaped up the stairs. They faced forward and the scream had come from toward the stern. He turned, the lower half of his body concealed by the stairwell. Yes! He could see Nino clearly, holding what looked like a chain. Nino had his back to the wall of the lifejacket store, and the three—there were three—Orestanos stood facing him with their backs to Silvio. Swiftly he took off his shoes. Silence was needed now. He moved as quietly as he could toward Nino and the others. The ship was rolling badly—thank God he no longer felt seasick.

  He slowed as he neared the group. What was he going to do? Suddenly the ship rolled again, and the middle one of the three Orestanos was thrown backward—right onto Silvio. It happened too quickly for him to dodge, and without thinking, he raised the gun and brought it down on the other man’s head. Or he would have done, but the ship continued to roll and he was thrown off balance. The barrel of the gun struck the side of the man’s head, forcing him to the ground but also making him cry out.

  The other two turned—and the man on the right, a quick thinker, immediately lashed out with his knife at Silvio’s forearm, the one holding the gun.

  The blade made contact just below the elbow—the knife slicing through the flesh to the bone. Pain exploded in Silvio’s arm, a tide of boiling heat. He grunted and squealed at the same time. And dropped the gun.

  Saturated in pain, Silvio was nonetheless aware that Nino was swinging his chain at the man who had wielded the knife. He slapped him around the ankles, pulled, and upended the man onto the deck.

  But the third man had made a dive for the gun. Silvio was paralyzed, rooted to the deck. All he could do was watch through his tears as Nino reached down to the man Silvio had hit over the head and snatched his knife. As the third man picked up the gun, Nino slid the knife inside his tunic sleeve. Silvio was close to being sick.

  “Basta!” shouted the man who had the gun. “Enough.” It was unnecessary. Silvio was holding the slit in his right arm with his left hand, crying and trying to stanch the flow of blood. The pain just wouldn’t stop and made even his gums ache. Nino stood still.

  The man who had been chained by Nino now knelt to the man whose skull had been cracked. He was beginning to come around. “Onofri! Onofri! Quickly. We ha
ve their gun.”

  This seemed to work, for the other man, the biggest of the three and the man who Silvio realized had cut him down in steerage—Onofri Orestano—looked up. He transferred his gaze from Nino to Silvio, then to the man holding the gun. He grinned.

  Unsteadily, Onofri Orestano stood up. The ship was still rolling. He grabbed Silvio. “Stand over there,” he growled, shoving him roughly toward the wall next to Nino. Then he looked around the deck. “My knife! My knife! Where the fuck is it?”

  Silvio managed to gasp, “I kicked it overboard. You won’t cut anyone else with that.” It may have been the greatest lie of his life. Or the last one.

  The big man took a step toward Silvio, raised his arm, and slapped him hard across the face with the back of his hand. He was wearing a ring and its edge bit into Silvio’s cheek. But this move coincided with another roll of the ship and Onofri Orestano was unbalanced, falling to one side. For a moment the gunman’s eyes followed the other man’s fall. In that moment Silvio heard Nino grunt and saw his arm swing forward. Moments later he gasped as a knife punctured the gunman’s chest, cracking his breastbone. The man let out a wail of surprise, fell to his knees, dropped the gun, and pitched forward onto the deck.

  This time Nino was the quickest on his feet. Silvio could still only watch through his pain as Nino leaped forward, picked up the gun, and turned it swiftly on the others. They froze. “Over there,” Nino said to Onofri, indicating that he wanted the two live Orestanos to stand together. Then: “Silvio! Here, by me. Quickly!”

  Silvio didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t. He was fighting a desire to throw up. It was as if someone was pressing a sharp, hot sword to his bone without any respite.

  Nino addressed Silvio again, but in a quieter voice, “Not long now, Silvio, I promise. No cock’s blood. Hold on. I’m going to move the others to the stern of the ship. I want you to drag the dead man behind me—as fast as you can. It’s important. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” He managed barely a whisper. Nino might not have heard. Silvio nodded instead.

  “You two,” hissed Nino, using the barrel of the gun to indicate the stern of the ship. “Move.”

  Through his tears, Silvio watched as the others glared at Nino. But after a moment of defiance they shuffled in the direction he wanted. With his left hand Silvio grabbed the dead man’s collar and began dragging him along the deck. There was a big stain on the man’s chest, but he had stopped bleeding. The knife still stuck out, where it had become lodged. Like the price tag on meat in a butcher’s shop.

  Silvio lagged behind the others. He watched as Nino moved closer to the Orestanos—too distant for them to lunge at him with any hope of success but close enough to fire with accuracy if they tried any tricks.

  But there were no tricks, and soon they had reached the stern of the ship.

  Silvio heard Nino shout, “Stop! Stand there!” Then he saw him indicate the ladder that led to the sternmost lifeboat on this deck. Nino now simply waited, without speaking or moving, while Silvio caught up. One moment Silvio was sweating, the next he was shivering. The pain in his arm was as intense as ever. “Put the dead man there,” Nino said to Silvio, nodding toward the ladder. “But don’t get too close to these other vermin. Then come and stand near me.”

  Silvio did as he was told. After he had let go of the dead man, he could at least nurse his bad arm with his good hand. He seemed to be losing a lot of blood. Through the pain, he heard Nino address the Orestanos again. “Get in the boat.”

  By now the realization of what Nino was planning had dawned on the Orestanos. “No,” said the big man, Onofri. “You’ll have to shoot us instead.”

  “And if you shoot,” said the other one, “the whole ship will hear.” He grinned. “Go ahead, shoot.”

  For a moment they all stood there. Silvio was close to being sick again. He didn’t care if Nino shot them. He had to lie down.

  “Think about this, mezzatacca,” said Nino as quietly as he could in the wind. “Am I going to let you live, or remain onboard, to fuck up my arrival in America? No. You can either die now, here, this very minute. Or you can take your chances in the lifeboat. The choice is yours. I’m going to count to five, and then I’m going to shoot. One …”

  The Orestanos’ grins had faded. They looked at each other.

  “Two …”

  Silvio’s head was swimming. He was growing dizzy.

  “Three …”

  Onofri Orestano knelt down and grabbed the clothing of the dead man. “Get in the boat,” he said to the third man.

  “But—”

  “Four …”

  The third man suddenly clambered up the ladder as Onofri lifted the body onto his shoulders and began to follow. As he rose, the other man, who was in the lifeboat now, took the dead man from Onofri’s shoulders and pulled him onboard. Then Onofri Orestano climbed over the lifeboat’s gunwale.

  Silvio couldn’t hold out much longer. The fingers of his good hand were sticky with warm blood. He had to be sick and he had to lie down.

  “Quick!” hissed Nino. “Silvio, take the gun.”

  Silvio hesitated.

  “Take the gun!”

  He let go of his arm and held out his good hand. His sticky fingers closed over the gun.

  Quickly, Nino ran to the derricks that supported the lifeboat. He operated the levers that swung the vessel out beyond the edge of the Syracusa’s deck. He then found another lever and jerked on that. At once the cable that supported the lifeboat began to play out. The boat began to descend.

  At this, the Orestanos began to shout and scream. “Help! Help! Save us! For the love of God, Nino. Help!”

  Nino took the gun from Silvio. Sweat and tears mingled on Silvio’s cheeks. There was the taste of vomit in his throat. He didn’t move as Nino rushed to the edge of the ship and pointed the gun at the Orestanos. They fell silent.

  The lifeboat hit the water. The cold black sea was very rough by now. The boat was immediately tossed one way and the other, like a fly on the end of a fishing line. Silvio stared down without moving. It became clear to the Orestanos that they must disengage the cable. With the Syracusa steaming through the water at ten or eleven knots, and pitching and rolling, the lifeboat was being pulled against her hull, the cable going slack and tightening alternately. The smaller boat might break up in no time.

  Silvio and Nino watched as the big man fought with the cable, disengaging first the stern link, then the bow link. He looked up as the lifeboat began to slip behind. Nino waved, but Silvio couldn’t move his limbs; he just stared through his tears into the darkness. The sea was so high, and the gloom so dense, that the lifeboat soon vanished.

  Nino turned. “They’ve gone. Now let’s see to your—”

  But Silvio was lying on the deck.

  Annunziata had a gun. She pointed it at him and screamed, “Don’t ever come near me again! Fuck whoever you want, you’re such a sophisticated man of the world now, Sylvano Randazzo. See if I care!” Annunziata never swore. Now she took the gun and held the barrel upright, closing her fingers around it, moving her hand up and down, as though the barrel were a penis. She laughed. “Is that what Anna-Maria does, Toto?” She laughed again. “But is she as pretty as me?” Then she took the gun and aimed it at Silvio. “Good-bye, Toto,” she said, laughing. “No lifeboat for you.” And she fired.

  Silvio screamed, but no sound came. He tried to dodge the bullet but suddenly realized he was tossing and turning—and sweating—in bed. In the cabin.

  “Ah!” said a voice. “You’re awake.”

  Silvio groaned and turned over. Instinctively, his left hand went to his right arm.

  “I stitched and bandaged it,” said the doctor. “You’ll live, though we were worried for a while. You lost a lot of blood, which is probably why you fainted. I gave you a sedative. That’s three times I’ve treated you, Silvio, in three days. I’d say you were unlucky.”

  “What … what time is it? And where’s Nin
o?”

  “Ah … it’s five o’clock, in the afternoon. You’ve been out for sixteen hours. As for Nino, as you call him, I’m afraid you won’t be seeing him for a while.”

  “What! Why not? What’s happened?”

  “The captain is aware of what you did. Lifeboats dropping into the water make a lot of noise. You can imagine that he was not, shall we say, jumping with joy at the news. He ordered that the ship turn back—”

  “Did they find them?” Silvio was suddenly scared all over again.

  “We steamed in a large circle, in heavy seas, during the hours of darkness, from two-thirty to five. Then we spent two hours in daylight crisscrossing that part of the sea where they should have been. But no, we did not find them—and don’t look so pleased with yourself: the captain lost three passengers and nearly six hours. He is going to have to explain that without reference to Nino and you, since you’re not supposed to be on board. It will cost him money.”

  “But why can’t I see Nino?”

  “Use your head. You’ve both caused so much havoc on this ship you are confined to your cabins. Because you were injured, you were left here. Some small hovel has been found for Nino. You’re both locked in and will remain that way until it’s time to put you ashore in four days’ time.”

  Dr. Tolmezzo stood up. “So get used to it. I’ll come by twice a day, to dress your wound and watch out for any infection.” He knocked on the door and Silvio heard a key being turned in the lock. A moment later the doctor was let out, and the door locked behind him.

  Silvio stared at the ceiling. So: the Orestanos had been seen off, but at a price. On the whole, he thought, the price was worth it, given that the alternative was unthinkable. But the whole episode, which had ended well for the moment, nonetheless showed that Nino had made some implacable enemies. Nor would it end here. In time, the Orestano family would hear of what Nino—and Silvio—had done, and there would be retaliation. It would take time, but it would come. So much for America being a fresh start.