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

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Cosa Nostra by Emma Nichols) 16656409 (z-lib.org) (1)-compressed Page 27

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  head to watch the craft bounce across the water. Her heart thumped out a

  steady beat, and she took another deep breath, hoping to the fates that it

  wouldn’t be one of her last.

  She walked to the edge of the Bedda as the speedboat moved

  alongside then jumped down and caught her balance before Patrina reached

  out.

  Alessandro’s bulk dominated the cabin raised above the bow of the

  vessel. Behind the cabin were steps to the lower deck on which Maria

  stood. Breathing apparatus hung, clipped to the outer wall of the cabin, and

  a narrow ledge bounded the boat’s perimeter. More traditionally, the craft

  would be used for diving and fishing expeditions. It looked the part, should

  they be stopped by the authorities for any reason. Maria sat on the ledge at

  the rear of the boat where she could keep her eyes on her two hosts.

  Patrina looked at Maria and smiled. The darkness cloaked a steel

  focus Maria knew sat behind the shine in her eyes.

  “All set?”

  Maria nodded her head. Her eyes drifted to the water as it sprayed

  up behind the low freeboard. The temptation to reach down and tickle the

  surface passed quickly, though the fleeting distraction helped. Patrina

  walked the short distance across the deck and climbed up the steps to the

  cabin to talk to Alessandro.

  Alessandro eased the craft slowly forwards and guided the boat out

  to sea. Patrina walked back up the boat and stood next to Maria. She gazed

  into the sky as if they were about to embark on a luxury night cruise with

  wine and canapes.

  “Beautiful evening, bedda.”

  Maria’s stomach twisted. She remained silent.

  “Are you ready for this? I don’t want to get too far out to sea. Once

  this goes up,” she indicated to the craft, “the authorities will arrive quickly.”

  She smiled. “He insists on keeping an eye on you, so I need to go and take

  the wheel.”

  “Okay.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Patrina’s word, but she had to

  trust her gut and that was telling her not to trust Alessandro to play ball

  fairly.

  Patrina went back to the cabin, and Alessandro slowed the boat for

  her to take the helm. Maria stiffened her back as Alessandro walked

  towards her. The craft swayed under his bulk. Her skin crawled and

  something sharp stuck in her throat. She lifted her head and smiled then

  stood and looked down at him. “Good evening, Alessandro.”

  He laughed, and ice trailed down her spine. His movements were

  uncoordinated, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye. He was high…and

  drunk no doubt. He reached out, and she swatted his arm away. The Smith

  and Wesson jabbed at her side with the sharp movement.

  He stumbled, pulled a gun from inside his belt, and shoved it in her

  face. “I need to fucking check you’re not carrying, bitch.”

  Maria held up her hands and glanced towards Patrina.

  Patrina stepped from the cabin. “Of course she’s carrying,

  Alessandro. We will need her help. Put the gun away.”

  Alessandro glared at Maria and took a step back. “I don’t trust the

  bitch.”

  His spit struck Maria in the face, and the stench of his breath

  curdled her stomach. She remained steadfast, watching him closely.

  “It will be fine, Alessandro. Please,” Patrina said.

  Alessandro glared in Patrina’s direction. “And I don’t fucking trust

  you, either.” He swung the weapon towards Patrina and then swiftly back to

  Maria. “You think I don’t know there’s no shipment?” His laugh had an

  acerbic quality that matched the wild look in his eyes. “You brought me

  here to kill me. Ha. You think I’m fucking stupid?” He pointed at his head

  as he spoke and swung the weapon like a pendulum between the two

  women.

  Maria looked into Alessandro’s eyes with a hard stare, and as he

  went to grab her again she moved away. “Of course there is a shipment,

  Alessandro. I wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.”

  The boat rocked, and he stumbled. He looked for a brief moment as

  if he was considering Maria’s statement, then he narrowed his gaze.

  “Fucking bitch.”

  He staggered again on the moving deck and squatted to prevent

  himself falling. As the boat stilled, he rose slowly, and focused again on

  Maria. His eyes looked darker than death itself and he pointed his gun at

  Maria’s chest.

  “That was fucking stupid.”

  Maria stood still with her hands raised. “I didn’t…”

  “Alessandro, no!” Patrina screamed.

  He glanced towards Patrina, and his eyes widened slowly as he

  registered that she was pointing her Colt .45 directly at him. She started

  slowly down the steps. He growled and swung his weapon towards her.

  Patrina stopped walking. “Put the gun down, Alessandro. We don’t

  need this.”

  Maria looked for a brief opening of uncertainty in a shift in his

  demeanour. It didn’t come. She appealed to him as she would a genuine

  friend, though she felt nothing of the sort. “Alessandro, it’s okay. We can do

  this together.”

  He kept the barrel of the gun pointed at Patrina as he seemed to

  ponder the proposition. Then his smile revealed the same quality of lunacy

  that Maria had seen in a man’s eyes once before, and he turned the weapon

  towards her.

  “Alessandro, no,” Patrina shouted.

  A crack as sharp as thunder split the night’s silence.

  Alessandro moaned out, and then another crack echoed out.

  Maria clasped her hand to the fierce burning sensation in her chest,

  then raw pain ripped a tornado through her, and her legs collapsed beneath

  her. The hard wood of the deck brought a shock of fire that kindled

  something inside her, and the gurgling in her throat made it harder to

  breathe.

  A third crack boomed out, and then a fourth, and a fifth.

  Patrina’s screams resounded in the darkness behind Maria’s eyes

  and then silence took the pain away.

  Patrina wailed like a wounded animal fighting for its life as rage

  coursed through her. She ran to the cabin and stopped the craft, then ran to

  Maria lying on her side on the deck. Maria’s eyes were closed, and blood

  trickled from her mouth. “Fuck, bedda. This wasn’t meant to happen. Stay

  with me, bedda. Stay with me.” She pressed her fingers to Maria’s neck and

  closed her eyes at the slow, light pulse. “Thank God.”

  She stood and took a pace towards the large lump of flesh sprawled

  on the deck. His eyes were wide open, and blood seeped from his chest and

  mouth. “Fuck you, Alessandro. Fucking, fuck you.” She raised the gun and

  with gritted teeth fired another two shots into his body and face. His corpse

  jumped at the impact. Patrina’s mouth closed to the nausea that stung the

  back of her throat. You fucking bastard! She plucked her mobile from her

  pocket, pressed a button, and held the phone to her ear. “Beto, get out here.

  Now.” She moved around the boat, dousing it with petrol, and scanned the

  cove for foreign vessels. The bobbing light from the speedboat grew

  brighter as it drew closer.


  The smaller craft rocked the deck as it pulled up alongside them.

  Beto made a sweeping glance over the scene and smiled at the sight

  of Alessandro. “Good.”

  “We need to get Maria to the beach. She needs help quickly.”

  “Of course.”

  Together they eased Maria’s deadweight onto the deck of the

  speedboat.

  “One second.” Patrina removed a lighter from her pocket, flipped

  the lid to ignite a flame, and threw the lighter into the film of petrol. A

  wave of flames chased rapidly across the wooden deck. Beto opened the

  throttle and steered the boat in the direction of the beach.

  Three hundred metres from the burning boat, beyond the Bedda, and

  inside the safety of the cove, the first explosion came and then a second,

  bigger and bolder that lit up the sky with a firework display that would be

  visible to the residents of Palermo. She looked at the wreckage that had

  become her nephew’s final resting place and felt pure pleasure for his

  deserved fate. The Bedda was also engulfed in flames. That had been a

  necessary part of the plan to create a diversion and suspicion. A moment of

  wistful reflection passed quickly and as she glanced at Maria’s blood-

  soaked jacket, tears wetted her face. Please don’t die, bedda. She scanned

  the beach and noted the familiar form running towards them. Giovanni,

  thank God.

  Giovanni held his gun raised in the direction of the two shadows

  until they transformed as the light revealed them. He returned his weapon to

  the holster at his chest and ran to the boat.

  Beto landed the craft on the beach. “Giovanni, come quickly.”

  Patrina saw contempt as Giovanni stared at her. It was justified. This

  should never have happened. Alessandro must have only gone along with

  her plan because he saw it as a way to get rid of her and Maria. He would

  have disposed of their bodies to the sharks if she hadn’t fired the first shot.

  “What the fuck happened?” Giovanni asked.

  Patrina wiped away her tears and her lips quivered as she spoke.

  “Alessandro shot her. I tried to stop him, but the bastard…”

  “Shit.” Giovanni reached into the boat and lifted Maria out.

  Maria slumped in his arms, and he carried her to the dry sand.

  Patrina followed him. She put a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood.” Patrina blinked and brushed the back of her hand

  across her cheeks. Please live, bedda. Her hands trembled as she sensed

  Maria’s skin was colder to the touch. “Please, make sure she lives,

  Giovanni.” Her voice broke as she spoke, and a wave of uncertainty snaked

  an icy trail down her spine.

  “And Alessandro?” Giovanni asked.

  Her discomfort intensified at Giovanni’s accusatory tone. She was

  as furious as he sounded. She shook her head, and her tone held remorse.

  “There is no problem between us now, Giovanni.” She looked into his eyes.

  “Please, tell her that I’m sorry.”

  Beto waved towards them. “Patrina, we need to go.”

  She nodded to Beto, then looked intently into Giovanni’s eyes.

  “Please.” She turned away and ran to the boat, tears spilling onto her

  cheeks. She watched as Giovanni cradled Maria in his arms and walked

  quickly towards the villa. For the first time in as long as she could

  remember, she closed her eyes and prayed.

  Maria started to tremble with the chill that consumed her from the

  inside out. The arms around her body were tight, and the pain in her chest

  increased under the pressure.

  “Maria, Maria.”

  The voice had a familiar tone, although it was faint and hard to

  determine through the ringing in her ears. She groaned as the fire inside her

  taunted her with its rhythmical jabbing pattern.

  “Maria, Maria.”

  Giovanni was calling to her. She wanted to speak, but the air

  wouldn’t fill her lungs, and all she could do was gasp repeatedly and hope.

  The blaze in her chest rumbled and crackled, close to the searing pain. Open

  your eyes, Maria. Open them. She flickered her eyelids, and her father’s

  voice became insistent. Come on, Maria. Another stab of pain, and the air

  stopped coming.

  Blood stained Giovanni’s hands. He leaned closer. “Maria, what is

  it?”

  Now, now, fight, Maria. Fight. “Octavia,” she whispered.

  *

  Simone jolted at the crashing and banging as Roberto burst through

  the front door and slammed it behind him. Did he have no consideration for

  the fact that it was long past midnight? She turned to face him, and the

  smile slid from her lips as the blood drained from her. He stood in front of

  her, paralysed, his skin pale and his eyes damp. He gesticulated frantically

  and looked desperate. Something dreadful…Maria? No, no. Simone froze.

  She stared at him, her eyes wide, and her heart pounding. “What’s

  happened?” The words came slowly, almost inaudibly.

  He looked away from her and tears fell onto his cheeks. “The

  Amato’s boat.”

  Simone’s head remained still, and her insides quaked. She knew the

  darkness that had just descended on her world. It was the same feeling that

  she’d had at the news of her family’s death. Nothing could change it.

  Nothing would lift it. She could think the words, Maria is dead, but she

  wouldn’t be the one to say them. She couldn’t, not out loud. That would be

  too much of an admission of her worst nightmare coming true. “What about

  it?”

  “It just blew up, Simone. They were all on it; Maria, Patrina,

  Alessandro.”

  Simone remained still and quiet. No.

  Roberto looked at her and closed the space between them with his

  arms open.

  She stepped away from him and raised her hand to stop him from

  speaking and moving.

  “I was working at the port. I saw the explosions. Maria’s place is

  swarming with police. The boat was just off the cove. The Bedda went up

  too. They’re looking for bodies.”

  Simone walked silently past him in a vacuum. She refused to

  believe Roberto’s lies. Why would he do that to her? No, no. Maria

  wouldn’t have allowed this to happen. Not now. Not ever. She stared out the

  window, gripped by blindness. Sounds became incoherent, and her inner

  voice muted. Then the firestorm swirled in her head, and she collapsed into

  a heap and sobbed.

  37.

  The carrycase sat open on Simone’s bed. Every item had been

  removed from it and placed carefully on the mattress, each lying next to the

  other in a uniform pattern that Simone tried to give meaning. But where

  was the justification, the logic, of a life lost for nothing?

  Patrina had approached her at Maria’s funeral, but the words of

  condolence that she had offered had simply fuelled Simone’s rage. How is it

  the evil people in the world survive and the good die young? Patrina had

  just blinked and nodded at her as she had levied her verbal assault. If

  Simone had had the energy and a weapon in her hand, she would have

  finished the woman there and then.

  Time heals. She shook her h
ead and wiped her eyes as she scanned

  the items for the hundredth time. No length of time could take away the

  pain of losing the most precious person in her life.

  There was no joy in the routine of studying the contents of the case,

  but the ritual had become a part of her life. It brought her closer to Maria

  and for a short moment, her heart felt light and warmth comforted her. She

  picked up the envelope with the letter inside it and re-read it. Three months,

  and still the paper fluttered in her trembling hand and shook her core, as it

  had done the first time that she had read the note. She caressed the words

  with her fingertips, reminded of Roberto’s comment.

  “You should go. She wanted you to have all of this. That’s why she

  gave it to you.”

  She put down the letter and picked up Maria’s clothing. The softness

  tingled her fingertips, and she pressed it to her lips and inhaled the scent of

  it. Tears spilled onto her cheeks and soaked the material. She closed her

  eyes until the feeling passed then folded the items and set them back on the

  bed. Her eyes stung, and she swallowed back the lump that had become a

  permanent feature in her throat. She tried to smile at the black and white

  photograph of Maria, but her heart hurt too much. It was an image intended

  for a passport. Maria looked so serious, so dark and moody. What Simone

  wouldn’t give to see that look now. She stroked the stern features and

  placed the small image carefully back into the case. The absence of Maria

  came to her in a shock wave as she covered the image to protect it.

  Trembling, she picked up the small package and emptied its contents on the

  bed. The flight tickets would take her directly to Paris, where she would

  check in at the Ritz. From there, she would walk a mere five-hundred

  metres to the Palais Garnier. She would go to the box at the southern

  entrance. The performance, Swan Lake.

  The rawness felt like an open wound being prodded with every

  memory, every thought, every glorious feeling shattered by reality was a

  pain Simone would take to her grave. She couldn’t imagine a time when she

  wouldn’t feel tortured by loss. Their relationship was cut short before it had

  time to grow. If Maria had gone with her that night, if they had run away

  together there and then, they would be together now. Maria would be alive.

 

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