Pirelli stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. "Did he have any drills, dentist's drills?"
"I dunno, but Carolla beat the shit out of him over that arsenal. Then the kid gets this knife, a martial arts knife, you know, a butterfly thing? Every time you looked at him the kid was flicking it open, made some kind of sling in his sleeve. I didn't think he could use it, looked more like it was some kinda circus act, opening and shutting it, sliding it down his arm into the palm of his hand, and the blade was like a fucking razor. He had Band-Aids all over his fingers where he cut himself. "Sidona asked for a glass of water and took another cigarette from Pirelli, which he put behind his other ear. "Carolla has to get out of New York, right? He's got the FBI houndin' him; they're buggin' his car, his apartment. He's got a few families hasslin' over some booty that was supposed to be divided up and funneled into some business; that was fucked up. So between them and the FBI pushing to have him cited for racketeering and narcotics trafficking, plus there's this other bunch callin' themselves the Organized Crime Strike Force breathin' down his neck over his business in Brooklyn, any way he looked at it he was in shit up to his armpits. So he hadda get out, you know, go under cover. So there's me an' this other guy all set to go with him, but he's dragging this kid along, too. We couldn say nothin', but Luka starts acting up like he's gettin' one he of a kick runnin' from one country to the next, playin' it like game like one of the TV programs he's always watchin'. Tal about aggravation, I mean, he's coming on like gangbuster But Paulie takes it, kinda liked the way the kid was alwaj looking out for him."
Pirelli interrupted to ask, "Do you think Luka cared for his father?"
"Oh, yeah, I guess so. Maybe more like he was always wanting to prove himself. See, nobody ever got a thank-you or a kiss-my-ass from Paulie. He was a real bastard. We go i London and Amsterdam, then to Sicily, an' all hell breaks loose and we'd walked right into it. Lenny Cavataio was talking his head off, pointin' the finger at Carolla about some stiff he knocked out more than a decade ago. I never seen Carolla scare but he sure as hell didn't like this Lenny talking. He was like madman, frothing at the mouth about what he was gonna do him, but he couldn't move. He was wanted, warrants flying around like confetti. He was holed up in this barn of a place the mountains."
Sidona leaned forward and tapped Pirelli's arm. "I later found out that the stiff was something to do with Don Rober Luciano. You know the guy? You know who I'm talking about:
Pirelli nodded. "I know him."
Sidona sat back, waving his hands around. "You don't fuck around with the old guys, know what I mean? They keep vendetta going for fucking centuries over an insult, you know? So, it wasn't really Lenny getting at Carolla, but Luciano, mean, it was the don's son, right? An' I know if Carolla hadi had his head shot off in the court, he'd have had it done by Luciano, right?"
Sidona gulped his water and wiped his mouth on the ba of his hand. "We got a lot of assistance from the families, righ I mean, he was paying out millions to get out of the countr he was heading for Brazil."
Pirelli put in, "Did he have tickets for Brazil? Passports: "No, we were waiting for them to arrive. Meanwhile, w nesses were coming out of the woodwork, and Carolla was bei hunted by Christ knows how many cops. So Carolla decide that before he goes to Brazil, Lenny has to be shut up, you follow me? That way he reckons he'll get Luciano off his back. So me an' this other guy go back down the mountain, on foot, gonna get to Palermo by train. We couldn't believe it; he sends his kid with us, says he might be useful because he looks like an American, talks like one. I lived in New York for twenty years, but I still sound like a Sicilian, know what I mean? But this kid don't have no accent, and he's got the freaky blond hair. Christ only knows who his mother was because he certainly didn't take after Paulie Carolla."
Pirelli looked at his watch and gestured for Sidona to continue.
"So, now we got Luka around our necks, and he's a fuckin' nightmare. Questions, questions . . . Jesus Christ, he never stopped talking. We discover that Lenny's holed up in this supposed safe house, hotel, or whatever, and he's got two guards day and night. I mean, no fuckin' way could we blast our way in. They got one guy inside the room, one outside."
Sidona looked at his lawyer. "You sure I'm okay sayin' all this?"
Pirelli said, "We made a deal, go on."
"Well, I can't get in the hotel, right? One look at me an' I'm gonna cause suspicion. Same goes for my partner."
"This partner, he got a name?"
Sidona considered for a moment. "I don't know his name, understand me?"
Pirelli sat back. "Okay, go on. Can't blame me for trying."
"Well, the kid walks straight in, all American innocence. He's a student, gets a room. Second floor, balcony. So we climb in that way. Now all we gotta do is make it to the next floor and to Cavataio. Fucking kid does it again, he walks out of the elevator, we're in it behind him, and we put it on hold. Luka walks up, asks if he's on the fifth floor, dangles his key. My partner takes the guard out, kicks open the door, one guard, three of us, right? Fuckin' guy backed off so fast he didn't even try to protect Lenny. Dropped his shooter as soon as he saw we meant business, yelped that he had two kids and a fuckin' white rabbit—you know the score. My partner saw to the guard, then hit Lenny Cavataio. One bullet, here . . ." He indicated his right ear, and his voice dropped. "He was dead, we could have walked out, no? But the next minute Luka's pulled Cavataio's trousers down. I said what the fuck? He said, 'Gettin' a small present for my father.' He cut his testicles off, I'm not kidding, just swiped them off with his fucking knife." He shook his head from side to side.
Pirelli stubbed out his cigarette. "Then what?"
"Well, he still wasn't satisfied with just that; he had to show whoever found the body that no one talked against his father. . . . He slashed out Cavataio's tongue. There was all this blood, me an' my partner standin' there wantin' to get the fuck out of it, but he wouldn't leave, he was like crazy. . . . He's got these eyes, eyes that go really pale, you know, freak's eyes. We both turned and walked out, left him in there. We got as far as the elevator, and the two relief guys walked straight into us. I made it to the next street before they picked me up, and I was in the fuckin' patrol car, sittin' in the car when I saw him. He must have got some clean clothes, maybe Lenny's, I dunno. He was standin' with the crowd outside the hotel, lookin' on like he was just a spectator."
"And after, did you ever hear from him again?"
"No. I heard they picked Carolla up three days later, but his son wasn't with him. You think I'm sorry? If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be in this shithole."
Pirelli said, "So you were in jail when they brought Carolla in?"
"Yeah, that's right. And if he was mad about Cavataio givin' evidence, you should have seen the guy go stark, ravin' mad when he was told about Luciano taking his fuckin' place."
"You know if Carolla ordered the deaths of the Luciano family?"
Sidona pulled a face. "Come on, Carolla was a made guy, lotta contacts, but he wasn't that important. That was a God almighty hit."
"Who would you say organized it?"
Sidona became shifty and tucked his hands beneath his chair. "I dunno . . ."
"Two little boys shot, an entire family wiped out."
"Look, I made a deal to tell you about Luka Carolla, that's 'I, no more."
Pirelli remained silent, staring at the tip of his scuffed shoe.
Sidona wriggled uncomfortably, looked at his lawyer, back to Pirelli.
"I don't know any names, but if Don Roberto had been allowed to take the stand, it was like breakin' up the system, understand? He was old, respected, a lot of power. ... I figure maybe the U.S. had a hand in it; nobody could afford to let him talk, he knew too much. Could have hurt too many people, so they used him as an example to warn off anyone else."
"Which U.S. family do you think could have played a part in it?"
"Oh, shit, I dunno. I swear on my mother's life, I dunno."
&n
bsp; "Would Luka Carolla know these American people? I mean, could he have been involved in any part of it?"
Sidona ran his hands through his hair. "He met a lot of family over here, must have had the contacts in the States; he was Carolla's son."
Pirelli leaned forward and gripped Sidona's knee tightly. His voice was a low whisper, hardly audible to Ancora or the lawyer.
"One name, give me one name you think might know something about the Luciano murders."
Sidona was scared, they could smell it. He leaned forward as if to speak, then sat back. Pirelli held his knee tighter, leaned closer. Sidona licked his lips and finally leaned forward, close to Pirelli's face, whispered, "Michele Barzini, maybe."
Pirelli smiled, patted Sidona's knee, gave him a small wink. He had no idea who Barzini was, but he would find out.
He smiled and lighting another cigarette, suggested Sidona go back to the beginning.
Ancora sighed, checked his watch. It looked as if Pirelli was going to be a long, long time.
Pirelli did not get through until three o'clock in the morning. Even then he returned to headquarters. He faxed the United States to check the schools Sidona had remembered. He repeated over and over that they needed a recent photograph, urgently. He also asked for any information on Michele Barzini.
Ancora yawned for the tenth time. "Can we call it a night,
Commissario? I don't know about you, but I am dead on my feet."
Pirelli put an arm around Ancora's shoulder as they headed for the parking lot. "You know, we've got enough evidence to put him away for the rest of his life."
Ancora nodded, opened his car door. "What's sick about it is, we find him, any lawyer's going to plead insanity. In the end, how can you say that's justice for what he's done? They had it right in the old days, hanged, drawn, and quartered. For this creature I'd do it personally."
Pirelli slammed the car door. "Yep, but first you have to find him."
Ancora started the engine and wound the window down. "You'd better get home. See you in the morning, okay?"
Pirelli moved over to his own car. He was tired. Perhaps that was why he felt so depressed.
As he drove out of the lot and into the square, the workmen were already hauling the twenty-foot Christmas tree into position. Christmas? He heard her soft, pleading voice: "My babies . . . my babies ..."
CHAPTER 18
Luka and Teresa were awaiting the arrival of the Corleone men. Luka was carrying a pair of binoculars, hoping to recognize the men from a distance.
The Luciano widows were about to deal with the advisers to Don Luciano Leggio, the infamous capo di tutti capi and the most feared man in Sicily. Leggio had slaughtered his way to the top of the Corleone family in a bloodbath that Sicily would never forget. Before he was even twenty-three, he had filled his private cemetery in the wilds of Rocca Busambra with countless skeletons.
Under Leggio's supervision, the city of Palermo had issued more than four thousand building permits in the space of four years. Four out of every five went to four front men: a bricklayer, a charcoal vendor, a manual laborer, and a work site guard. These men, all of them illiterate, were authorized to build almost anything anywhere on behalf of "unnamed parties," the Corleones.
And now, with Don Roberto Luciano dead, they believed nothing could stand in their way.
At the dot of two o'clock a black Mercedes-Benz turned in at the driveway, followed by a Jaguar. Teresa hurried to the door and called to the women that their visitors were about to arrive.
Luka studied the men in the cars. "You've got one of the consigliere, don't know the other guy with him. They've got two bodyguards. Yeah, they're carrying . . . Oh, yeah, nice one! They've got the new twenty-two. I can see one tucked into the guy's belt. It's a real assassin's weapon; with the silencer it's almost soundless."
Teresa's nerves were already on edge. "Who's this consigliere? Do you know him?"
"Well, you're not important enough to get the top men or Leggio's underboss even. The consigliere is the counselor, like a lawyer, oversees all the contracts."
"Can we trust him?"
"Yeah, they've just sent him to deal. His name is Carmine something or other. They always move around with armed bodyguards. . . . Rocco's in the Jag, alone. I'll get up to the roof to see if they've got anyone on foot. You'd better go downstairs to greet them."
Teresa was shaking with nerves. The women, as Luka had warned, were stepping into a snake pit more dangerous than they could have dreamed.
The two cars stopped in front of the villa. The men in the Mercedes remained seated until Rocco got out and opened the door for them. The consigliere and his companion looked like respectable bankers, white-haired, in dark suits, somber ties, and whiter-than-white shirts.
Luka eased open the window of the bedroom above the porch and crawled on his belly toward the edge of the roof.
"Stay with the cars?" an incredulous voice asked below.
Luka peered over as Rocco turned away, hands on hips. "Stay with the cars? Me?"
"Yeah, you : . ."
"How long do you want me to wait? I've got business to see to. I've got a property deal goin' down. You want a carhop, get one of the guys to do it."
No one replied, and the four men disappeared under the porch. Rocco stared after them, his face tight with anger. He called, "I can't wait long. I don't want to lose this deal—"
Luka heard the doorbell ringing and pulled back, afraid Rocco would spot him.
Adina ushered the men toward the dining room. The two bodyguards remained in the hallway, standing like sentries, arms folded, as Adina came out and went to the study door and tapped.
"Signora, your guests are here."
Adina returned to the kitchen, head down, afraid even to look in the direction of the bodyguards.
The women filed in, led by Graziella, who took her husband's position at the head of the table. She alone was veiled; the others, bejeweled and sophisticated, formed a line beside her to greet their visitors. Graziella's hands were shaking as she tried desperately to remember all her instructions. Teresa gave her a brief nod to begin.
"Please allow me to present my daughters . . . Sophia Luciano, widow of Constantino, mother of Nunzio and Carlo . . . Teresa Luciano, widow of Filippo. Her daughter Rosa, who lost Emilio Luciano, her fianc6. I am Don Roberto Luciano's widow, Graziella Rosanna di Carlo Luciano."
Unexpectedly Graziella continued. "I am sorry that Don Camilla could not be present himself. He must be unwell. Please give him our condolences. And you are?"
Teresa was impressed. Graziella was majestic. When the two men introduced themselves, she stretched out her hand to
be kissed. Then Teresa seated them around the table and took
over the meeting. She spoke deferentially, her head slightly bowed.
"Signore, I thank you for coming. For all of us, I would like to say how very much we appreciate Don Camilla's most generous offer. We will vacate the villa by the end of this month and hope that our request for an extra three weeks will not inconvenience Don Camilla. We are unable to leave before because the apartment we have purchased here in Palermo is being refurbished. We wish the Corleones well. May they have a full and happy life here at the Villa Rivera."
"Grazie, signora, grazie ..."
Luka was about to climb back into the house when Rocco's car phone rang. Luka inched back to listen.
Rocco snapped instructions into the phone, said he would be there as soon as he could. He then wandered toward the fence by the kitchen garden, looked around, and walked back to his car. He got in, started the engine, and reversed the Jaguar toward the lane that led to the rear of the house.
Luka climbed back into the house and moved quickly down to the first-floor landing. He pulled up short when he saw the two bodyguards in the hall. There was no way past them without being seen, so he backtracked to the floor above, to Teresa's room, which overlooked the garages. Rocco was just climbing out of his car. Luka was not sure
what to do; if Rocco entered the garage, he would see the packing cases and the women's luggage in the cars, ready for their departure. Yet at this very moment the women were pretending that they were going to remain at the villa for another three weeks.
Teresa smiled as she passed over the deeds to the villa, and both men nodded and smiled in return, presuming that she was agreeing to the completion of the sale of the entire Luciano holdings. Their faces fell as Teresa said, "We also take this opportunity to refuse our dear friend Don Camilla's offer for the Luciano companies. We will leave all the financial arrangements for the sale of the villa and its contents to our lawyers, who have worked so well on our behalf during this tragic time. If you wish to speak with them, they await your instructions."
"Signora, did you understand Don Camilla's offer?"
"Oh, yes," Teresa answered. "Signor Rocco made it most clear, but after discussing it with the lawyers and with Don Scarpattio and Don Goya, whose families run the north side of the docks and so were exceptionally interested in our waterfront sections, we were persuaded by Don Emilio Dario and Don Bartolli that they, too, would be prepared to purchase sections, and all four families might perhaps form a group buyout. This would give each family access to our waterfront and bays, plus our cargo vessels at present in dry dock, and, of course, we would agree to sell the cold storage and the warehouses with the package. Since the factories are not at present productive, they, too, would make valuable storage areas. As for the vineyards and groves, though they are sadly destroyed by drought and neglect, we have been assured they could be productive again in two years.
"According to our lawyers, the contract for the sale of the villa does not include these properties. You must understand, we are just four women who have no interest in the complexities of the business and have simply placed everything in the hands of our lawyers. Considering the subsequent offers from America, you will understand our confusion and accept our apologies for the delay. Until we are told by our legal representative to accept Don Camilla's offer, we must sadly decline at this stage to sign any documents. Thank you again, and please give our most respectful good wishes to Don Camilla. We hope he will pay us a visit before we leave. If you wish to discuss the matter again, we will be here. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank your associate Giuseppe Rocco, who was kind enough to suggest that we approach the other families. As I have said, we are dependent on the advice of others, having no business experience ourselves, and appreciate all the help and kindness that has been shown to us."
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