The Prince

by Vito Bruschini

  * * *

  Jano was familiar with the Chiarenza mill. It was halfway between Salemi and Trapani, close to Lake Rubino. He figured the two lovers wanted a protected place, away from prying eyes. Jano left his horse about a half mile away from the mill and walked the rest of the way, careful not to be seen by anyone. Finally, he came in sight of the mill. It was a stone structure, on the bank of a stream fed by a nearby pond. The wooden wheel stood stationary because of a bomb that had damaged the mechanism. Evening was falling, and he recognized Mena’s buggy near the door. What Don Calò had told him was true.

  Jano was carrying his shotgun. He walked to the door. It was unhinged and leaning to one side. He bent under it and went in, taking care not to make any noise. He wanted to surprise the two while they were making love. But not a sound could be heard in the place. He walked down a corridor and reached the door leading to the machinery room.

  From there too, not a sound.

  He opened the door and entered the room, stepping over fallen beams and splintered wood on the ground. He looked around. The gear works, drive belts, and big wooden cogwheels were still covered by a thin film of flour, as if the workers had simply left for the day and would be back the next. Jano advanced to the center of the room, where the horizontal cogged axle of the big wheel that dipped into the waters of the stream stood.

  A voice behind him, cold as ice, took him aback.

  “Dui su’ i putenti: cu avi assai e cu non avi nenti.” “Only two have power: those who have a lot and those who have nothing.”

  He spun around and saw Prince Ferdinando Licata emerge from the shadows.

  At his side was Saro Ragusa and, behind them, three of Saro’s men. Except the prince, all were armed with rifles. One of the three men went up to Jano and took the shotgun out of his hand.

  The prince stepped forward and stopped a short distance from his adversary. “Surprised, Jano?”

  Jano Vassallo realized that he had been sold out by Don Calò. He knew he was done for.

  “It’s the day of reckoning; time to settle accounts,” the prince spoke calmly as usual.

  “I’m not afraid. Screw death, I don’t give a damn about it,” Jano spat contemptuously.

  The prince shook his head and smiled. “You see, you won’t be the one screwing; the other lunatics who will be living with you starting tomorrow will be screwing you.”

  “Get it over with, Prince Ferdinando Licata! Kill me! I’m not afraid,” Jano repeated.

  “It would be too easy for us and too good for you. Sorry, Jano, but I have other plans for your future. For example, I’ll stuff you with drugs, but not too much, because I want you to be fully conscious when I feed you to the sex maniacs. That’s right, my friend, because I’ve decided to have you locked up in one of our worst lunatic asylums with a diagnosis that will give you little chance of recovery. You’ll live for years and years steeped in your own excrement and that of your numerous lovers. And don’t think you’ll be able to kill yourself, because I’ll see to it that you lack both the strength and the will to move. You’ll live like a larva. It’s what animals like you deserve.”

  Hearing that chilling verdict, Jano dropped to his knees. He grabbed Ferdinando Licata’s ankles, pleading with him: “Patri—have mercy on me!” He kissed his shoes, but Licata kicked him and broke his grip. He headed for the door, while Jano began banging his head on the bare ground, until two of the men forcibly pulled him up and gave him the first morphine injection.

  * * *

  The night following these events at the Chiarenza mill, a meeting was called between the heads of the Sicilian Mafia and those of the American Cosa Nostra. The United States was represented by Ferdinando Licata, while the bosses of the twelve major families spoke for Sicily. Various spheres of influence were established. In Sicily, Don Calò would still control the Commission while Saro Ragusa received the recognition of the padrini, who “kissed his hands” as a mark of respect and gratitude for all that he had done to restore them to the top levels of power in Sicily. In the United States, Ferdinando Licata was named, along with Vito Genovese, as the Commission’s main point of contact, replacing Lucky Luciano, who two years later, consistent with the prince’s strategic plan, would be freed and deported back to Italy, he too under the official pretext of being an undesirable.

  During the meeting, Don Calò asked what happened to Jano Vassallo.

  “He lost,” Saro replied. The old boss nodded, satisfied, and asked no more questions.

  A few months later, once Jano’s “mental illness” became established, the Vatican annulled his marriage to Mena Losurdo, on the grounds that his psychic flaw had been concealed from her at the time of their nuptials.

  A year later, Mena and Saro realized their dream of love, and little Saruzzo was finally able to embrace his real father: Saro Ragusa, the new boss of Salemi.

  * * *

  Such was life in Sicily in those days: a cup of bitter gall.

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks to all the “fathers.”

  The “father” of a novel is never solely the author. It all began six years ago, when Sergio Fumasoni, a dear friend who has lived and breathed publishing since he was in short pants, tried to convince me to write a story about the Mafia. At the time, Vincenzo Labella (writer and producer of Jesus of Nazareth, Marco Polo, and other miniseries), sent us an article from the Los Angeles Herald Tribune by Stash Luczkiw, in which the poet regretted that stories like The Godfather were no longer written. The article was inspiring, and I accepted the challenge. It was Fumasoni who gave me a starting point: among his papers, he had a 1945 dossier on the sinking of the Normandie. I wrote The Father—Il Padrino dei Padrini (The Godfather of Godfathers), which Fumasoni brought to Carmine Parmigiani, a film producer. Parmigiani was immediately excited about the story and in turn passed it on by email to a friend of his in Los Angeles, Fabio Mancini, a producer at Paramount. The producers of the “majors”—the major film studios—presented it among their selections for fall 2007. At the same time, Parmigiani also had the manuscript read by director Alessandro D’Alatri, who, more than anyone else, saw a strong likelihood that Prince Licata’s story might stir movie audiences’ emotions. D’Alatri instantly took action and proposed the novel to the publisher of Newton Compton Editori, Raffaello Avanzini. I will never forget the day we received his “okay,” and he showed me the cover of the book. Finally, the last “father” of this book is actually a “mother”: namely, Giusi Sorvillo, the novel’s editor. It’s always smooth sailing with Sorvillo; she can wield a pen like Benvenuto Cellini’s chisel.

  To all of them, I offer my sincere gratitude and warm recognition for bringing me to the result you hold in your hands.

  But there are still two people who are in my thoughts at this moment. The first is Giuliana, my wife from time immemorial, who from time immemorial has supported my dreams. To her I apologize for all the sacrifices that she’s had to make to get to this day. The second one’s name is also Giuliana, and she is my daughter. For her I wish a life full of dreams—and that they may come true.

  Rome, October 13, 2009

  About the Translator

  Anne Milano Appel, PhD, is an award-winning translator whose latest translations from the Italian include Paolo Giordano’s The Human Body, Andrea Canobbio’s Three Light-Years, Goliarda Sapienza’s The Art of Joy, Claudio Magris’s Blindly, and Giovanni Arpino’s Scent of a Woman. Most recently her work was awarded the John Florio Prize for Italian Translation (2013) and the 33rd and 32nd Northern California Book Awards Translation Prize for Fiction (2014 and 2013).

  VITO BRUSCHINI is a renowned Italian journalist who heads the news agency Globalpress. He lives in Rome, Italy.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2009 by Newton Compton Editori, s.r.l., Roma, Casella postale 6214, Italia

  Jacket design by Anna Dorfman

  Jacket photographs © George Marks/Retrolife/Getty Images (MAN); Archive Holdings Inc./Getty Images (Skyline); Grimgram/Shutterstock (Tommy Gun); Angela Babii/Shutterstock (Clouds and Water)

  Author photograph by Salvatore Scirè

  English language translation copyright © 2014 by Anne Milano Appel

  Originally published in Italy in 2009 as The Father: Il padrino dei padrini by Newton Compton Editori

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bruschini, Vito.

   [Father. English]

   The prince / by Vito Bruschini.—First Atria books hardcover edition.

    pages cm

   “English language translation . . . by Anne Milano Appel”

   Originally published in Italy in 2009 as The father: Il padrino dei padrini by Newton Compton Editori.

  1. Mafia—Fiction. I. Appel, Anne Milano, translator. II. Title.

   PQ4902.R76F3813 2014

   853'.92—dc23

                   2013035380

  ISBN 978-1-4516-8719-4

  ISBN 978-1-4516-8721-7 (ebook)