by Hugo Damas
Typical of a countrywoman, can’t really have a conversation without yelling at the husband for one reason or another. Mafia status be dammed.
Lazaros eventually grabbed the phone back from her.
“I know we’ve had our misgivings, Giuseppe, but if you know anything is that I take my word seriously. I want power, but I’m not some conniving, treacherous bastard, see? Stick with me, and even Donna will bend, you’ll see.”
Giuseppe scoffed. “Lazaros. We’re never gonna be friends, and we’re never gonna trust each other. Not really.”
Lazaros chuckled. “Enough will be enough, Giuseppe. We’ll be family, not friends. We’ll trust each other enough, you’ll see.”
Giuseppe grunted in protest and put down his phone, which was the tiny bit of rebellion that he could muster. Lazaros shrugged and put his own end down.
He sighed.
“Aright, let’s move. Florin, pick yer best men and go with Protos. I’ll take what’s left plus the new boys.”
“You goddit, boss.”
“Oh.” Lazaros absentmindedly turned back and pointed at the couple, “n’ take care of ‘em, of course.”
The couple turned towards him, startled.
“What?!”
The Don left the house feeling a bit unpleasant. The fact was that if Donna got to those innocent bystanders, the couple, everything would be ruined. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done.
In minutes, Florin’s boys had put them to sleep. They would clean up the place and make them disappear, they were skilled boys.
“Florin, if Donna’s gonna do anythin’, it’s gonna be a grab for the girls. You keep ‘em safe, but most of all, you keep ‘em out of her hands. Get me?” Lazaros commanded.
“Yes, boss,” Florin said.
“And no harm comes to ‘em, see? Not a bruise. Not unless Donna’s the cause,” Lazaros made sure to add, and they heard it.
“You can count on us,” Florin swore.
Lazaros nodded. Yes, he could. A Don was nothing without soldiers to count on.
He left in the car with the two brothers and one of Florin’s crew. Felt right to not be behind the wheel once again.
Felt even better to have the upper hand.
In truth, however, he wanted to assume Donna would be able to tell what he was doing. She knew he had taken Giuseppe’s girls so she could potentially guess the rest of what he was doing.
That could be trouble, or it could be nothing. Knowing a plan is useless if you can do nothing to stop it.
That was the real question Lazaros needed to answer: what could she do to stop him?
* * *
Lazaros talked to Gonzalo like he didn’t know about Donna. It went well, they had had no major beef in their past, so he wasn’t that disagreeable. Either that or maybe Gonzalo was just going through the motions since he had already decided to side with Donna.
Soon, Giuseppe would talk to him, and he would change his mind about that. Merely finding out Lazaros knew about the whole thing all along would freak him out.
After Gonzalo, the only ones missing were Donna and Roberto. They were heading towards Roberto when Lazaros got a bad feeling.
Always listen to your instincts, Emiliano had taught him. When you can tell them apart from your emotions, that’s when you’ll be at the top of your game.
Lazaros had accomplished that in a few short years since receiving that advice and at that moment, with the car stopped at a sign, and the sun ducking behind the horizon, he felt very much in danger.
The Don looked around, sitting as he was in the backseat. Few people were on the streets, some drunk, some couples, some small groups of people planning to get drunk. Lazaros sensed he was being watched.
Scanning for a reason, he found one man in a group of three drunks who were by the light. Waiting to cross. The man glanced at his car, at him, and he looked nervous.
“Drive,” Lazaros said calmly.
“Hm? The light.”
“Fanabala with the light,” Lazaros whispered. “Go now.”
The moment the engine revved, the three drunks were suddenly not drunk anymore. Their coats flapped open, and revolvers flared into being. The slowest to draw brought up a sub-machine gun instead.
They cursed their way through a hail of bullets that shattered their windows and chipped away at the car. Lazaros felt a tire get shot flat and one of the boys grunted in pain to the whisper of flesh being perforated.
Lazaros was the first to stick his arm out the window, pistol in hand. It kicked against his hand to the roar of gunpowder, shooting back.
In a matter of seconds, the environment was filled with gunfire and bullets wheezing past across the street, the yelling of people scared and the cursing of people mad. People like Lazaros.
Marco, the driver, managed to retain enough control to drive them out of range of the shooters. It was only then that Lazaros pulled back inside.
“Who got shot?” Lazaros demanded.
“’m okay, boss,” the chatterbox of the two brothers replied. “Just grazed me.”
That had been Donna.
“That rotten bi…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it out-loud. Instead, he gritted teeth as if he was too angry to say it, and not actually a victim to her decades-old near-institutionalized intimidation.
“She just tried to whack me!” Lazaros yelled, punching down at the door.
“You said she might,” Marco pointed out. The other two knew they were too new to say anything.
“This is soon, this is very very soon.” He reloaded the pistol. “Let’s change cars. We’ll pretend nothing happened.”
“They just tried to kill you, boss,” Marco complained, and Lazaros could understand. It was weak, it made him look very weak to ignore something like that. But the truth of fact was that he couldn’t prove that Donna was behind it.
“Just for now. ‘Till I talk with Roberto. It’ll confuse him to see me alive like nothing happened. Might make him suspicious of Donna.”
Frustration tugged at him all of a sudden, why was he explaining himself?
“Why’m I explainin’ myself? Just hurry and get me to Roberto.”
Would she also attack Protos? No, if Lazaros were to die, Protos would bend, that’s what he should do, and that’s what he’d do. She wants as little loss as possible.
She knows I’m travelin’ light right now, it was the best time to strike. But why? Then, he realized. She would know Lazaros took Giuseppe’s girls even if the bastard didn’t tell her. It was too easy to find out. Donna must have then guessed his strategy, again. That would explain the attempt on his life.
He was seething. Lazaros was so angry he could hardly contain himself. They all knew it, they all felt it in that car, he could tell how afraid they were that he would kill them.
That was the power of being a boss, everyone knew you could kill and suffer no consequences.
They switched cars with that of someone else who was heading home. Again, an intimidating glare was enough, though Lazaros still punched the man, if only to release some stress.
Lazaros almost did the same to Roberto after he slammed his door open.
“’m all outta patience for fondlin’ balls, today, Roberto!” That was how Lazaros greeted the man, way too angry to do small talk. “I got the Shadow Conclave backin’ me up now, so it’s time we became one big family again. With one boss. Me.”
Roberto’s right eyebrow rose. “Well, someone’s really confident about takin’ over the country, aren’t they?”
“I’ve already talked to everyone else is why, Roberto.”
“You did?” He asked, not afraid enough, in Lazaros’s opinion.
“The Magnotti, Mikos, Frattaroli, and Salvatore. They’re all bendin’ to the Infeperio name,” Lazaros told him.
“Are they now? And the Serratore?” Roberto asked.
Donna…
“She’ll only bend if all o’ you do it, you know that. She’s smart but not smart eno
ugh to be able to tell she can’t be on top anymore, see?”
Roberto’s squinted eye -- the left one had been pulled out of him when he was a cappo a long time ago -- looked him over. No doubt trying to find signs of the shoot-out Lazaros had just survived. He found none, not even sweating.
Lazaros looked confident and cool in his red suit with his dark coat and pants. Also angry. He was lucky no bullet had even grazed him, it meant he looked utterly untouched.
“Sure, Lazaros,” Roberto said, opening his arms. “Why posture? Why delay the inevitable? I can’t fight ya, let alone when ya’ve already convinced everyone else AND have the Shadow Conclave backin’ you.”
Roberto had always been the most pragmatic of them. The most ruthless too, though not by much since any of them were ruthless enough to make entire cities tremble.
Lazaros smiled victoriously. He was a bit annoyed that he had to fake it, but he didn’t let that show.
“I knew you’d be reasonable, my friend! Happy to hear it. I’ll have someone contact you with details. Feel free to contact me at any time with worries and wants.”
“Likewise…boss.”
The way he said it would’ve made Lazaros’s skin crawl…if he wasn’t the Don. The Don looked back at the man thoroughly insulted.
“What was that tone?”
“What?”
“I’m asking about that tone!” He approached Roberto and looked him right in his one eye. “You plannin’ somethin’, Roberto?” Lazaros just had Marco with him. Roberto had all of six buttons with him, but once again, Lazaros didn’t back down.
He made Roberto back down.
“Take it easy, Lazaros, nothin’s goin’ on. Just hard for me to swallow, arright? All o’ this is crazy and sudden,” Roberto said.
“Better be that,” Lazaros told him, backing away. Marco looked a bit more relieved. “Better be that.”
“Just a little bit o’ attitude. I’m doin’ what’s best for my family, it’s not ‘cause I’m afraid o’ you, arright?”
“I don’t want anyone’s fear, Roberto,” Lazaros pulled out a cigar, “I want your respect, see?” He lit it.
“Well, that’s gotta be earned,” Roberto said.
“Can’t do that if ya don’t gimme a chance,” Lazaros countered, before finally turning around to leave. “Take care o’ yourself, Roberto, talk to ya soon.”
“Yeah,” Roberto replied, sitting back down, “you take care o’ yerself too.”
No talk to ya soon, though, Lazaros noticed with distaste. You wait. You all just wait.
His hand hadn’t let go of his gun ever since the shooting.
Even while driving, his eyes kept scanning his surroundings. His time at the Shadow Conclave had made him forget how he’s not immortal, and yet, he had to look immortal. Everyone had to believe he was immortal.
The car stopped at a light.
“Drive, damn you!”
This time, Marco didn’t question or hesitate, he pressed the foot on the gas and drove on.
“You stop at a light again, Marco, I’ll make you tie a rock to that foot for a week, see? Maybe then you’ll learn to keep it down on the damn gas.”
Lazaros lit a cigar. At the beginning of the day, he had been planning to stroll into Donna’s territory with nothing but Florin and an amalgamation of power behind him. Now, he was invading her territory with a collective of bluffs, one confirmed ally, coerced, and three buttons. Two of which were completely new and clearly open-minded when it came to loyalty. They still didn’t speak much, it was hard to gauge what they were thinking.
“So what’re your names, anyways?” Lazaros asked.
The one at his side glanced at him surprised. The one riding shotgun laughed.
“It’s been crazy, huh? Haven’t even given you our names.”
“Yeah,” Lazaros said, smiling in a friendly manner. “So what are they?”
“I’m Enzo, my brother’s named Nico,” he said.
“Nico don’t talk?” Lazaros asked.
“Not since Giuseppe had his tongue ripped out,” Enzo explained.
“Eesh,” Lazaros looked sorry for them even though there was probably a good reason, a reason that had him momentarily worried. “What happened? He sold out some info or somethin’?”
“Nah, he’s always talked too much but not like that. He called the daughter a bitch.” Lazaros opened his eyes. “Yeah. I begged the real one, that’s the mother, not to tell the boss, but she did anyway.”
Well, Lazaros would probably have done the same but, at least, it definitely wasn’t a reason for concern. If anything, it made him trust them more.
“This why you turned so quick?” Lazaros asked.
“I wouldn’t say we did it quick. More like as slow as you let us.” He shrugged, but he was right. Don nodded a bit pleased.
“Well, you made the right choice. Things are pretty dangerous right now, but that’s to be expected,” Lazaros said.
“You can count on us, boss,” Enzo reassured.
Lazaros felt like a villain from a fictional story, gaining stalwart allies out of a sibling duo where one didn’t talk. Seemed like something out of a story. A story people would be telling for years after he was dead, he bet, the story of Don Lazaros Infeperio.
He straightened up, once again in a good mood.
Lazaros realized they were already on the outskirts of Donna’s home district, her territory. It was one of the smallest but, at the same time, the most peaceful. She kept a tight ship, there was no denying that, and up until that day, she had never had the ambition to acquire more territory.
Just then, he saw that the street was blocked. Almost at the same time, his car stopped.
“Boss?” Marco asked.
“Drive to ‘em, lemme talk,” Lazaros ordered, all the while wondering what the cops were doing there.
Marco went slowly. The brothers were holding their pistols, looking calm. Lazaros didn’t even gulp, he lit a cigar and opened the window.
The cops waved them to turn around and leave, so Marco turned the car around as if he was going to leave but instead stopped right by them.
“Good evening, officers,” Lazaros greeted.
“Mr. Infeperio,” the woman cop noted.
“I see the road is blocked?” Lazaros asked.
“Good eyes, Mr. Infeperio,” she said, spitefully. His smile died.
“And what detour should we take, then?”
“Back where you came from,” the woman said, with a voice that alerted him. He recognized her.
“Wait, I know you, don’t I?” Lazaros asked.
She sneered in contempt, which turned out to be the help he needed to remember her.
A hard-line detective that had never taken bribes. She did so well so fast that by the time Lazaros wanted to, he couldn’t kill her, not without massive backlash. She figured herself to be the one to stop organized crime, so Lazaros showed her how well the system worked, the system she was ready to die for. He framed her, set her up so her chief, who was in Lazaros’s pocket, could demote her to traffic duty. She had disappeared after that.
“Edmonda, right?” Lazaros asked, smirking.
She looked awful. Her curly hair was now slimy and disheveled, shoved inside her hat. Dark bags under her eyes didn’t go very well with that green. She was slumped, while he remembered her always being so uptight and upright, one of those people that stand tall no matter what. The years following her failure hadn’t been nice to her, not at all.
It was honestly satisfying to see.
“You can read a badge, congrats,” she said.
“Badge? What’re you doing here?” Lazaros asked.
“Blocking traffic,” she said coldly. “That’s my job though I’m sure you’ve forgotten.”
“’Course I did, why’d I keep track of you? I’m no stalker,” he teased with a smirk. “Well, in that case, tell us what detour we can take.”
She groaned. “Donna doesn’t want your company toni
ght,” she stated flatly. “Leave.”
Lazaros raised an eyebrow. He frowned at her, but the woman had clearly given up on life. She hadn’t feared death before out of bravery and sense of duty, but now, she just didn’t care.
“Her bribe that good, was that it?” Lazaros asked.
“I’m not on her dime.” She shrugged, “now leave or shoot your way through.”
“What do we do, boss?” More asked.
Lazaros looked over at the car. He wanted to say “both” and then shoot them and leave but, looking around, he felt trapped. There were no witnesses right then, but gunfire would bring them out fast enough.
She’s not on Donna’s dime… Lazaros considered, believing her as far as that went. That means…
Realization hit him. He grimaced mockingly at her to hide his anger.
“Thanks there, Edmonda.” She seemed to hate herself over him knowing her. That he remembered who she was. She seemed starkly aware of how content he was with how low she had fallen.
“Drive, Marco. We’re going home,” Lazaros said.
Things had gotten worse. He had been blindsided yet again.
AGAIN! He yelled in his mind, trying not to break the handle as he turned it to close the window. The car drove off fast.
Donna had already gotten to the president. He was protecting her. Was that how she planned to beat him in the war? Use the military? How had she convinced him?
He thinks she’s won, Lazaros realized. She had gone straight to the most powerful man in the country and applied the same strategy Lazaros was applying with the dons.
His mind raced. Lazaros had to talk to him, he had to convince him she hadn’t won, and that he was backing the wrong horse. He also had to let the other bosses find out that he knew about this, they couldn’t know he had been outmaneuvered again.
Or maybe they already know… Maybe he was being played the moment Giuseppe called him. Maybe Protos and Florin were already dead, and his turf was already under attack.
The Don frowned so heavily he felt the muscles in his face protest the effort. “Stop the car,” he demanded.
Marco did as he was ordered, proving that there was no more hesitation in him. Lazaros exited the car and elbowed the window of a parked car, promptly breaking it.