Cosa Nostra by Emma Nichols) 16656409 (z-lib.org) (1)-compressed

by Неизвестный

  made jittery movements and then settled on Patrina. He relaxed his hand on

  Beto’s shoulder.

  “Soon, Beto. Soon.”

  Beto nodded. Alessandro turned to Beto and patted his left cheek

  hard, three times. Beto took the blows with gritted teeth, and his eyes

  watered.

  Alessandro turned back to Patrina. “You will speak to our cousins in

  Spain, Auntie?”

  Patrina smiled. Good. He feels as though he is in control. “I will talk

  with Miguel.” Miguel Gama wouldn’t be her first choice boss to align

  forces with, but he was the most powerful leader of organised crime in

  Spain. If they needed to ensure the transit of cocaine to Sicily through

  Lombardo’s cement supplies, then he would be the man who could arrange

  it. She had another plan though. The price would be high but leveraging

  Gama’s support would benefit them in containing the ‘Ndrangheta. She

  needed this partnership to work to their advantage, for the future…her

  future. She looked to Beto. “Tell Chico we just need more time. A couple of

  weeks, if you can get it. Explain that the unions are causing trouble at the

  port. He needs to know we have that situation under our control.”

  Beto looked from Patrina to Alessandro then walked from the café

  like a man heading to the gallows. Alessandro clicked his fingers at the

  woman behind the bar. She brought over a carafe of wine and set it down on

  the table. He pawed under her skirt, and she smiled seductively, lowered

  herself to his lap, and put an arm around his neck. She kissed his cheek. He

  smiled at her then pushed her away. He poured a glass of wine and slugged

  it back in one hit, then fire flashed through his eyes.

  “That fucking pussy whore needs a lesson, once and for all.”

  Patrina stared at him, her insides flaming. She would always defend

  Maria, no matter what had passed between them. She loved Maria. She

  always had and always would. She smiled through the burning sensation

  and breathed deeply. The tension subsided a fraction. She saw Alessandro’s

  death in the vision in her mind, and the tension softened. She reached out

  and stroked the dead man, though his cheeks flushed, and she blinked away

  her desire. “We need to stay focused, Alessandro.”

  21.

  Maria stepped out of the hire car and walked slowly across the damp

  car park, taking care to avoid the freestanding water that stunk of urine and

  glistened with engine oil. Giovanni remained in the car, as instructed,

  watching her back. She became aware of the rifle pointing at Giovanni from

  the open window of the adjoining derelict building as she approached the

  parked car.

  The hairs standing to attention on her bare arms and the chill that

  crawled beneath her short-sleeved cotton shirt had little to do with the

  slightly cooler weather in Florence and everything to do with the

  heightened state that came with taking this meeting. The ‘Ndrangheta’s

  reputation as the fastest growing organised crime group on mainland Italy

  had been well earned. She respected that. Everyone knew who Don Chico

  Calabrian was. He and his crew were feared across the country. But the

  Lombardos were respected too, and she was banking on that being enough

  for the Italian gang leader to consider her offer.

  She had seen her own death a thousand times over, rehearsed this

  walk, the foul stench that filled her nostrils, and the cool air brushing her

  skin. The faces were different each time, but the feeling growing within her

  was the same. Intense, pervasive, and it wasn’t going away any time soon.

  She forced her ribs to concede to her breath as she approached the parked

  saloon car.

  Three men sat inside the ‘Ndrangheta’s car and a fourth man stood

  outside the vehicle. There was little reassurance having Giovanni close by.

  He would be taken out before her if Don Chico didn’t like what she had to

  offer. Her too. She was relying on tradition. Respect between Dons.

  She held out her arms, palms up, and stood a few paces from the

  vehicle. The young man was fresh-faced, clean shaven, and shorter in

  stature than her, and no more than twenty, she guessed. As he approached,

  he looked more terrified than she felt. He stared at her as if assessing how

  she might respond to his instructions and then tentatively, he patted her

  down. Gender was meaningless, and she wasn’t about to make a point as

  she would be inclined to do in Patrina’s presence. He reeked of fresh sweat

  and stale cigarettes.

  She didn’t flinch. He looked to the silhouette in the back of the car,

  the man’s features obscured by the thick tinted glass, and nodded. The man

  in the back of the vehicle opened the car door and stepped onto the

  concrete. He straightened his jacket then slicked back his grey hair as he

  walked towards her. The young henchman stepped back, pulled a gun from

  his waist, and directed it at her. She gave him a steady look, took a slow

  deep breath, and turned her attention to the older man in his mid-fifties. His

  eyes said he had seen life, and his smile said he was in control of his

  destiny. “Don Calabrian.”

  His teeth were bright white and his eyes dark as he looked her up

  and down. “You are every bit as beautiful as I was informed.”

  Her racing heart stilled with her distaste of him. She moved her

  tongue around her mouth and parted her lips, then smiled warmly. “You are

  well respected, Don Calabrian.” She held out her hand and tilted her head to

  him.

  He looked at her hand briefly before he shook it, then looked back

  up into her eyes. “You have an offer?”

  “Yes, Don Calabrian.”

  He shrugged. “Well?”

  “We can generate greater returns for your business.”

  He frowned. “Why should I work with you when I already have an

  open door to Sicily?”

  She looked into his eyes. “I understand. Our family knows the

  Amatos well.” She took a deep breath and rested her hands on her hips.

  The man with the gun clicked the trigger back. She looked at him

  without smiling then turned to Don Chico. “Your recent consignment did

  not reach its destination.”

  Chico made a huffing noise and flicked his hand as if dismissing

  Maria’s comment. “That is not my problem.”

  “Don Calabrian, I know your business partner well. I wish to offer

  you a better deal and a personal guarantee.” Maria waited. The silence was

  thick and heavy. She already regretted trying to make this deal, and it

  wasn’t even done yet.

  “Seventy-thirty.”

  Her expression remained passive to the demands she could not

  accept. “Don Calabrian, that is not possible.”

  “That’s my price.”

  Maria noted the roof of the car park and the hire car in the corner of

  her eye. She looked to her feet where the steel girders from above her

  dripped water that splashed on the concrete and tainted the shine on her

  shoes. She took a pace back to avoid the grime, and the gunman took a step

  closer. She raised her hand slowly, gesturing him to stop, then looked at

  Don Chico. Even
if she wanted to accept a lesser deal and run, she couldn’t.

  If she conceded too easily, he would lose respect for her. “You have fifty-

  fifty with our friends. We can honour the same, and we can look at

  increasing the shipments through the port. We have strong relationships

  with our cousins in Spain that might be of use to you.” She cursed herself,

  but she had no choice. She had to offer something significant to attract the

  Don’s attention, and she would deal with the consequences later.

  She stood still, while the dripping water sounded like thunder in the

  quiet of the warehouse. She tensed against the pounding against her ribs and

  inched taller.

  Don Chico continued to stare at her. She remained steadfast and

  resolute in her offer. His eyes narrowed, and she saw a spark of amusement.

  His lips curled upward a fraction. “Sixty-forty.”

  He was toying with her to see how far she would push. She wouldn’t

  be bated. She frowned. “I can’t accept that. You understand how it is, Don

  Calabrian. My men would lose respect for me if I made promises that we

  cannot deliver.”

  Don Chico’s laugh reverberated around the cavernous space. “You

  have balls.”

  Maria half-smiled. “Fifty-fifty.”

  “Ha. My men would lose respect if I did not improve our situation.”

  He shook his head.

  “And you will improve it with access to the Spanish.” She shrugged.

  He thinned his lips and inhaled deeply. For a fleeting moment, his

  focus shifted. Maria could see him wavering but waited patiently for his

  response.

  “Fifty-five, forty-five.”

  “Fifty-fifty and the Spanish connection.” Her response was swift

  and decisive, her gaze unrelenting and showing no weakness. She felt his

  glare soften.

  He lifted his chin and turned away from her. “I will be in touch.”

  She waited until he was settled in his car with the henchman at his

  side. The car wheels squealed, and the vehicle sped from the car park, and

  she breathed in the dank, vile stench that surrounded her. A chill washed

  over her, bile rose from her stomach, and she swallowed it down. Her hands

  trembled and her heart thundered as she walked towards Giovanni who

  stood next to the hire car. She wiped away the sweat that trickled down her

  temples and nodded to him. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she

  retrieved it.

  Giovanni released a long breath and then frowned. “What is it?”

  “Beto is on his way to meet Don Calabrian.”

  Giovanni rolled his eyes.

  “I have to get back to Sicily. I have a meeting in Spain, Giovanni. I

  need you to stay here and watch.”

  “Okay.”

  Maria glanced around the car park. “At a distance, Giovanni. Don’t

  compromise yourself.” She closed her eyes briefly, not wanting to entertain

  the possibility of someone taking him out. She wasn’t certain she could bear

  it so soon after losing her father.

  22.

  The drive from Valencia airport to the Lombardo Cement Works on

  the outskirts of the city brought a smile to Maria’s face despite the large

  volume of traffic slowing her journey. Tapping her fingers to the music

  from the radio, she revisited the memory of Simone as she had just left her

  in the hotel.

  Simone’s warm, damp skin had shimmered and sweat had pooled in

  the pit of her soft stomach. Through gritted teeth, Simone had tensed at her

  touch, and screamed out, and fallen into a quivering heap. They had

  laughed uncontrollably and kissed until Maria had needed to shower and

  leave.

  Maria’s smile softened her vision, and the resonance of Simone in

  rapture fluttered in her chest. God, I love her. She sighed and took a left off

  the highway.

  Beto’s image came to her, and the lightness in her chest became

  suddenly dense. She had noted the way Beto looked at Alessandro. It was

  clear he had no respect for his boss. Beto wasn’t like Alessandro, and he

  didn’t deserve to die for the fat man.

  Don Chico hadn’t taken too kindly to Alessandro sending his lacky

  to the meeting. It was a mark of disrespect, and he had put two bullets into

  Beto as a reminder to the Amatos that they had a debt that needed paying.

  One week for each bullet, and two weeks to pay what they owed. Luckily

  for Beto, Giovanni saw the incident and had Beto’s wounds tended to

  before he bled to his death. The fat pig’s image lodged in her awareness and

  a shiver passed down her spine. She hadn’t thought herself capable of

  hating someone as much as she detested Alessandro. Perhaps Vittorio

  wasn’t such a bad judge in this case after all.

  She turned her attention to the scenery, the road ahead, and enjoyed

  the wind on her face. Open fields spanned both sides of the road, and the

  concrete towers at the plant grew in stature as she got closer. Her thoughts

  drifted. The air was fresh and clean by comparison with the stench of the

  car park in Florence. She inhaled deeply. I have to leave Sicily. Don Chico

  type meetings would always be needed in this job and someone would

  always end up hurt or dead.

  She turned into the site, flashed her passport ID to the security

  guard, and smiled. He opened the gates to the compound, and she drove to

  the site offices.

  Preferring to stand while she waited in the reception, her heart raced

  with anticipation and hope. She had longed for this moment for as long as

  she could remember, and now it had arrived. She looked through the large

  glass panels at the tall concrete towers with large sprawling arms and

  gurgling chutes feeding greedy trucks that moved slowly across the site.

  The site was even more impressive close up. The uniformity and precision

  of the operation brought a smile and warmth settled her.

  “Donna Maria.”

  The deep soft voice came from behind her. She turned and smiled at

  Rafael’s bright eyes. She approached him with open arms. “Rafael. How are

  you? The family?”

  His cheeks flushed as he grinned. “We are all well, thank you,

  Maria.” He pulled her into his arms then held her away from him and

  studied her. “You look well.”

  “Thank you.” She looked over his shoulder towards the door that led

  into the hub of the building. “Is he here?”

  Rafael nodded. “He has the paperwork ready for you.”

  She followed him to the director’s boardroom.

  A short, suited man stood as she entered the room. He smiled at her

  and held out his hand. She glanced briefly at the paperwork neatly laid out

  on the table in front of him as she shook his hand.

  “Buenos días, señorita Sanchez? It is a pleasure to meet you,” the

  man said.

  “Buenos días, señor.” Her hands trembled though she didn’t let it

  show. She removed the passport from her jacket pocket and handed it over

  to him.

  He studied the photograph and then Maria’s face. He maintained an

  official, stern look as he opened the documents and transferred the

  information needed from the identification she had provided to his forms.

  Then
he passed the completed documents across the table and smiled

  faintly.

  “Could you please sign at the crosses as indicated on the forms, Ms

  Sanchez?”

  Maria sat and duly signed each of the forms, and one by one slid

  them back to him. He took a set of the documents and handed a second set

  to Maria.

  “These are for your safekeeping.” He delved into his bag, pulled out

  two bunches of keys, and handed them to her. “Felicidades, señorita.” He

  packed the paperwork into his briefcase and looked at Maria as he stood.

  “Everything is in order.”

  “The transit will progress?” she asked.

  “Sì, señorita. We have those details as Palermo with a delivery in

  two weeks’ time. We do not foresee a problem but if one arises, we will

  contact the offices here as per your request.”

  “Muchas gracias.” She held out her hand. Again, the Spanish

  language rolled off her tongue as if she were native to the country, and the

  man acknowledged her as such.

  He shook her hand and smiled. “Buenos días, Señorita Sanchez.”

  Her spirit lifted as the deal was concluded. “Buenos días.”

  Rafael escorted the man from the boardroom and gave Maria a

  quick, congratulatory smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind

  them.

  Maria glanced at the paperwork, and the quivering in her stomach

  spread to her hands. Yes, yes, yes. She looked around the room and through

  the glass panel that spanned the length of the corridor on the other side,

  hoping she wasn’t being watched. She released a deep breath and clasped

  her hand to her chest. It’s happening. She paced the boardroom to stop

  herself from bursting or voicing her delight with screams that would have

  made her look a little crazy. She congratulated herself then admonished her

  overzealousness. She had to maintain her composure. Discipline. Control. It

  might be one small step closer to realising her dream, but the situation was

  still shrouded in uncertainty. It was too early to celebrate.

  Her parents had always known how she craved to leave Sicily. Her

  father had supported her as best he could along the way, but even he

  probably never thought she would actually leave. Her mother had made it

  clear she would rather Maria stayed in Sicily, but that could never happen if