Growls and exclamations go around the table. “Che cazzo?”
I don’t understand the phrase, but from the way it’s snarled think I can make the right interpretation. The expressions of hatred being sent toward me, and toward my brothers at the opposite end of the table, make me rest a hand on the butt of my gun just in case.
Lucio raises his hand; his men go quiet. “I was set up,” he repeats, “by my own son. By Angelino.”
There are a few audible gasps. I’m watching all reactions carefully, eyes flicking away, faces looking down at the table, anything which might suggest one of these capos is in the know. But the expressions range from horror to surprise to resignation.
“But you are alive,” Gallo observes.
“Because the Satan’s Devils are not as hot-headed as Angelino. They speak first.”
Roberto grimaces at the pain on Lucio’s face and takes over as the don clearly is finding it hard to admit his son’s failings.
“Angelino has taken a woman. He believes her to be the daughter of Vittore Parma.”
There’s swearing in both English and Italian at the name. I’m trying to work out whether they’re praising Angel for taking Violet or upset at the name just thrown out into the open. My face must give me away.
“The woman is the wife of Demon, President of the Satan’s Devils.” Roberto indicates me. “For his sake, and the rest of his men, please talk in English only.”
“Your wife?” A capo asks. “Why would he take your wife?”
“To get revenge on her father, Capo Lecce.”
“The man who we suspect as being Vittore Parma is dead,” Roberto puts in. “He died of natural causes eighteen months ago.”
Now the expressions are of confusion.
“Angelino wants revenge on a dead man?”
“Lui è pazzo,” one says, tapping his forehead. Then for my benefit clarifies, “Loco, crazy.”
“Don Lucio,” the capo sitting next to Roberto starts, “how has he set you up?”
“Demon’s wife was wearing a tracker. A necklace. He gave it to the woman on my staff who he was having an affair with. It led the Devils here.”
A couple of the capos are nodding.
One puts it into words. “Angelino thought they would come in all guns blazing and kill you.”
“I am sad and sorry to call you here today,” Lucio rubs at his face tiredly, “to inform you of our underboss’s betrayal. But there are two things on the agenda. One is dealing with Angelino and the second is finding Demon’s woman.”
“The evidence against Angelino is circumstantial,” another capo observes. “The bikers could have planted the tracker themselves. There has been a change at the top spot as we all know, maybe Demon doesn’t want to continue the agreement his club has with ourselves.”
Whoa. That was unexpected. I eye the man suspiciously. Only a supporter of Angel would speak up like that.
Lucio clearly feels the same way as he suddenly snaps, “I’m his father. I’ve been pretending not to see what was happening. Who among us can deny that Angelino wants to lead this family in different ways? Napoliello had it right. He is crazy. I’ve tried to ignore the signs I see day by day that have been warning me my own son wants me dead.” His voice has risen, he allows his last words to ring in the silence before he continues, “Angelino wants blood and violence.”
Blood, violence, drug and gun running and slave trafficking are the bread and butter of the Mafia. But this group are all shaking their heads.
“He’s getting careless,” Napoliello says.
Ah. So that’s it. Not disdain for the business they’re in, but the way they do it.
The don nods. “We are respected. We have built relationships in this town, in this state. If we attract attention to our trade, then we all suffer. Angelino does not understand the necessity of discretion.”
“We have proposals,” Roberto takes over. “I have been Lucio’s consigliere for three decades now. I have seen this approaching ever since Angelino was promoted. He is too eager to walk in the don’s shoes.”
“We would need to vote him in.”
“You are right, Ratti.”
“He wouldn’t get my vote.”
There’s a moment of consideration, then a number of them echo the last observation.
“A show of hands. Who wouldn’t vote for Angelino?” Roberto presses.
“One moment, Consigliere,” The capo called Ratti interrupts. “We are not all here. Do I take it there is a reason for that?”
For an answer, Roberto just steadily stares back. A second, passes, then Ratti nods. The reply, silence, was all that he needed.
The man sitting beside the consigliere reverts to Roberto’s question. “Before today? I would have voted yes to Angelino taking over in the light of your—natural—death, Don Lucio. But under the circumstances, I could no longer support him. I would vote no.”
“Thank you, Padovano,” Lucio nods.
One by one, men stoically raise their hands.
“We are not all here. Of those who aren’t, my view is Ferri and Sanna might support him. I suspect that was what Roberto hadn’t said. They are close to him.”
The capo called Padovano barks a laugh. “I was wondering about their absence. But I’ve also been wondering about their future with the famiglia. They’ve both been sampling the product a little too often.” He stares straight at the don. “Both cocaine and women.”
Lucio’s face tightens. “We have a proposal. We need to draw Angelino out. Both to deal with him and to rescue Demon’s woman. I do not want a war with the Devils on my hands. It’s time I introduce you to the men at the end of the table.”
“Let us introduce ourselves,” Drummer suggests, then rests his steely eyes on each man at the table. “I am Drummer. I am president of the mother chapter of the Satan’s Devils. Beside me is Red, who leads the Vegas chapter. We also have the president of Utah back at the Pueblo compound. We’ve other chapters, too. Our motto isn’t just words. Satan’s Devils ride together. You start a war with one, you’re declaring hostilities against us all.”
My heart warms at his promise.
Then Drummer continues. “We would also ask for support from our dominant, the Wretched Soulz.”
I avoid giving him the sharp look I want to. Our charter exists by agreement with the Wretched Soulz, one of the main outlaw MCs in the States, fuck, in the world come to that. Drummer insists on all Satan’s Devils chapters retaining a good relationship with their local branches for just such a reason as this.
An intake of breath, and that seems to clinch it. The dominant club is huge. The Silvestri family might be numbered over a hundred, but we’re talking about the possibility of being able to summon up a thousand men. Men who, perhaps, would be a little more eager than us to take on some of the trade the Silvestris are running.
“We’ll get your woman back.” Gallo’s looking in my direction. “Hopefully unharmed. Angelino cannot be allowed to come between the Devils and il famiglia.”
I am not surprised. Bikers are mobile; our members are made up of large numbers of veterans who learned guerrilla tactics and have other military knowledge. I’ve a number of vets in my own club; Ink and Lizard are ex-Marines and Mace was in the Army, for starters. The Mafia’s normal approach of bringing the fight into the open won’t work while we’re using speed and manoeuvrability to pick them off. Coupled with that, full-scale war would bring the Feds in pretty quickly. They’d just love an opportunity to bring down a RICO charge on our heads, and the group it would fit most would be the Mafia.
Catching Drummer’s eye, I raise my chin. He gives back a quick nod.
“So where is Angelino holding the woman?”
I just about stop myself rolling my eyes. If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here.
“You have a list of properties?” Roberto, the more practical one, asks me.
“I do.”
“Text it to me.”
I take out
my phone and send him the list. A few seconds later, every capo is taking out his phone.
“Check the list. I want to know of any other properties Angelino is linked to. Anywhere he might have rented or bought recently, or any person he may have intimidated to use their space.”
They’re allowed a moment to consider the list.
“You got this?” Gallo asks me, his jaw clenched. At my nod, he continues, “Not sure I like you getting all this intelligence.”
I shrug. Must be recorded somewhere for Cad to have found it. Let them wonder how easily we can get the information we need, and just how much we know of their business.
“I know of a couple of places. Long shots.” One by one a few more addresses get added to the list. I text them to Mace, confident he’ll check them out.
I don’t know his name, but one of the capos speaks up. “Checking known locations is all well and good, but doesn’t deal with the fact Angelino might have gone off the radar. Why not bring him to us?” My eyes sharpen. I like that idea. “If he knows Don Lucio is still alive,” the man continues, “he’ll go on the defensive. Knowing him, he probably has a plan up his sleeve were he to find out the set-up failed. But on the assumption it succeeded, he’ll be waiting on a summons.”
The don sits up straighter. He’s got them on board. “We let him believe it was a success, that I’m dead.”
“And that we need our underboss to lead us,” Roberto nods.
“He comes here, and what? We beat the truth out of him?”
Yeah, I like the sound of that.
Lucio sighs. “No. Not because I don’t want my son harmed—I think his death warrant has already been signed; I for one could never trust him—but I think we need to consider his rationale for doing what he has. Angelino wants revenge. Yes, I agree, he probably has a backup plan up his sleeve, and probably more than one. He wants revenge on Parma, and on the Satan’s Devils MC. In the event he doesn’t return, I suspect he’ll leave instructions for Violet to disappear. Which will mean she’ll be alive, but wishing she was dead.”
“Can’t take that risk.” My teeth grind together.
“Your idea?” another of the capos asks.
“I’m an old man,” Lucio admits. “Roberto already has plans to enact when I am gone. A meeting, an election. The result of which Angelino thinks is a foregone conclusion…”
“You need Salvaggi here. He’s in Sicily at the moment. All capi need to vote.”
“So there’s time. But as the underboss, he’ll take over for now. Until a new don is elected.” Roberto has taken over again. “You will meet to get his guidance. Then he’ll return to where he’s holed up with Violet. He has, shall we say, a personal interest in her?”
“That business about her baby?”
Lucio nods, then glances that way. “We will track Angelino back to his hide-out.”
The plan will take time. My head rests in my hands. Time, I hope, that we have.
Fabbri suddenly raps his hand on the table. “You were asking about properties. I tagged along with Angel a year or so back. He seemed interested in a property that was for sale. It’s not on your list. Maybe he didn’t proceed with it. Didn’t think much of it at the time, we’re always toying with properties to store shit or hole up.”
I exchange a glance with Drummer, then look at the capo. “Where is it?”
As he reels off an address, I text Mace, and pass it on, telling him to get eyes on it and then wait. It sounds promising, so I want to be in on it.
“If anyone thinks of anywhere else. Let me know. I’ll make sure the information gets into the right hands. And,” Roberto’s eyes come to mine, there’s an iciness in them. “If you come across Angel before us…”
“Can’t guarantee I won’t kill him. He puts hands on my woman? He’s a dead man.”
The capos’ eyes go to the don. Lucio closes his briefly, then opens them. “It if had been my Maria… Another had his hands on her? Raped her? I’d have gutted him on the spot. Can any of you say different?”
Like the club, the Mafia are all about family. No man objects. But they don’t comment either. One way or another, whoever finds him first, Angel’s dead. It’s by whose hand that’s in question.
The meeting is over. As the capos start taking their leave of their ‘dead’ don, going to put Roberto’s succession plans into place, I know we won’t be invited to attend any further gathering.
“As soon as we know where Angel’s hiding, I’ll be in touch. I guarantee it.” I trust Roberto. He knows what’s at stake.
“If I get any leads, I’ll do likewise.”
I’m impatient to be off. I might have sent Mace there, but I want to investigate this place myself.
Hold on, Vi, I’m coming. I just hope we don’t arrive too late.
It feels good to be doing something. Anything, rather than sitting around talking. Joining the search at least makes me feel I’m closer to Vi. Hell and I speed away from the don’s house as fast as our bikes will go. When we catch up with the enforcer and Ink, Mace updates me on the places he’s already visited, many properties Angelino might own, but wouldn’t frequent, or, not personally. No, the drug dens would be supplied by his men. Likewise, the strip club, which certainly appears to offer no threat to Tits Up. The next house was in a residential area but set well back from the road. In the street there was a kid out chopping the next-door hedge. Ink, being the least threatening, had approached, asked, and received the information that nobody lives there, or no one he’s seen.
“Where was it?” Hell asks.
“What is it?” The sharpness of Hell’s tone catches my attention. Something’s got him thinking.
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.”
His nose is spot on. The address matches the one the capo had mentioned Angel had thought about buying. Mace might have dismissed it; it’s gone to the top of my list.
I ring Cad, asking for more info.
“Don’t have much, Prez. Angel bought it a year ago. Nothing on who’s living there now.”
According to the neighbour’s kid, no one at all. Or, someone who doesn’t want to be seen.
“Any rear access?”
“Just pulling the maps up. Shit. Yes. A track. Google Earth shows it’s possible to get an off-road four-wheeler up there.”
That’s enough for me. “Hell. I want to go to that house. You come with me.”
“We’ll all go,” Mace says. “Prez, if I missed something…”
I clasp his shoulder and squeeze it. “You’re trying to cover a lot of ground fast, Mace. Ain’t nothing gonna fall back on you.”
It’s not that far. We park a discreet distance away, then proceed on foot. The house itself can’t be seen from the street. As I view the driveway, it certainly does look unused, weeds growing up through the cracks. But there’s an approach from the rear, Cad had said.
“Wait here. Hell, you come with me.” Checking our guns are within easy reach, the two of us keep in the shadow conveniently provided by the bushes between this and the neighbouring property. When I reach the front door, Hellfire is right behind me. It’s a quiet area; I hear an owl hooting and, in the distance, traffic moving. Nothing to raise suspicions.
Hell stands to my side, ready to burst in after me.
I raise my hand to knock. The slight pressure of my fist hitting the wood causes the door to ominously swing open. I exchange another look with Hell. A trap? I signal him to stay put.
Knowing my brother will have my back, I warily step inside. Darkness has fallen, moonlight coming in through the windows is the only brightness. Taking out my flashlight, I switch it on then look around carefully, my eyes taking in everything, the lack of furniture, the dusty floor. And the one set of footprints disappearing through a doorway, then coming back. Apart from those, the place doesn’t look like it’s seen anyone since Angel bought it.
Could Violet be upstairs? But how would they have gotten her there without leaving a trace?
�
�A trap?” Hell whispers behind me, his head peering around, taking in the same scene.
“Unless there’s a back door, doesn’t look like anyone else, apart from the person who left those prints, has been here.” I listen again. I can’t hear anything.
The shape of the shoes in the dust is compelling. It reminds me of Hansel and Gretel, but did that story have a happy ending? For the life of me I can’t remember. Someone was cooked, that’s for sure.
“Think we should search?”
“I’m going through there.” I point to where the trail leads.
“Be fuckin’ careful, Son,” Hell growls “Remember, Angel likes a set-up.”
I’m only too well aware. It’s tempting to walk in the exact same spot, but in my head, I’m running over any possible threat there could be. Explosives hidden under the boards? A pressure trigger just waiting for me? With hairs pricking at the back of my neck, gingerly I ease my way halfway between the footprints and the wall. My senses on high alert, I turn back, “Wait outside, Hell.”
His face is full of concern, but he reluctantly obeys with a nod. I’d have the exact same feelings as him, I’d want to stay close, too, but there is no point us both dying together.
As carefully as a big man can, I move across the floor, my ears pricked for any sound, the tiniest snick of a bomb being primed, ready to throw myself back. But it’s only silence and that damn bird ‘whoo-o-ing’ outside that I can hear. Two steps to go. I can now see I’m being led to a kitchen.
Am I on a wild goose chase? Is there really any clue to be found? Maybe it’s just someone checking on their empty premises. There’s nothing to be seen, the place clearly hasn’t been lived in for a while. There are no pots, pans or anything visible. Just counters and cupboards. And those footsteps leading to one in particular, then turning around and walking back out. Perhaps someone just came in to look for something.
Wanting to move this along, I step to the cupboard, placing my hand on the handle and pulling it. Then I jump back so fast I slip and fall on my ass, my heart only just staying put and not leaping out of my chest. As maniacal chuckles ring out, my rage rises to the surface. A fucking jack-in-the-box. Rigged to give a heart attack to whoever opened the door. Christ. Wanting to kill something, anything, standing I return to destroy the toy when my eyes fall on a note behind it. Sweeping the offending object which almost caused my death through stopping my heart aside I take out the paper and quickly scan the words on it.
Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3 Page 64
