The Orsinni Contracts

by Bill Cariad

  “Well, at least I’m being given a choice,” said the Englishman, his fingers alternately worrying his tie and an earlobe, “which sounds more reasonable than the one those bastards in Palermo gave me. From them it was go and come back with Canizzaro, or come back empty-handed and watch Kennedy being gutted.”

  Maria gave no sign of her reaction to having heard what Tommaso’s fate would be if her father had not already figured out the way she could prevent it happening.

  “Tanaka,” resumed Stanhope, making eye contact with her now, saw Maria, completely throwing her with his introduction of Tanaka to the scene and suddenly sounding less nervous as he continued, “never did go into any details about your background, Signorina. I can see why, now, of course.”

  Maria didn’t look at her father; whom she presumed was hearing about Tanaka’s talks with the Englishman for the first time.

  “But I think I can understand now,” continued Stanhope, “why he said that if my company were to avail themselves of your services, there would come a time when I would have no doubts as to your skills, but that I might question your ability to... to honourably live in two different worlds, was how he phrased it.”

  Maria risked the glance now to Giovanni Orsinni and saw the frown.

  “He said that when that time came,” resumed Stanhope, his fingers now searching for something to worry, “I should bear in mind that you would never dishonour the Orsinni name in either of those worlds. Tanaka seemed to have great respect for all things Orsinni.”

  Maria didn’t need to glance again across the desk; Stanhope’s last words would have removed the frown from her father’s countenance. His closing line made that a certainty.

  “So I place myself in Orsinni hands, Signorina, as Tanaka told me I could do without fear.”

  Maria saw that, as with herself, her father had been surprised by Stanhope’s emotive recounting of Tanaka’s words. Surprised again, for a quite different reason, she also saw that her father was looking at her with an expectant expression on his face. He was now waiting, she realized, for her to sanction Stanhope’s presence from this point on. Concealing the surprise, she gave him the sanctioning nod of her head.

  “Then we can begin,” declared Orsinni senior, his entire demeanour now transformed for all to see and hear. “You have been fortunate, Maria, in the timing of your approach to me. For reasons which need not be disclosed, Don Antonio is currently displeased with the Lucchese family. So I have been given his blessing, and some manpower, to discreetly assist you.”

  Maria was surprised to learn that her timing had been good, but unsurprised by the rest of his statement. Not even her father could have mounted a secret solo operation from within the Bartalucci compound itself.

  “The situation is complex,” resumed Orsinni senior, “and yet its resolution may prove simple. The Lucchese family is made up of several clans, each with its own boss, each with its own sanctioned activity. The Lucchese hierarchy have little or no direct contact with these clans. One of those clans deals exclusively with kidnapping. Its boss is an unpopular man named Umberto Galeoto. He alone decides who is worth kidnapping. A substantial percentage of all ransom money passes to Salvatore Lucchese, so Umberto only picks the richest fruit. He decided that the Baletto child fitted that category.”

  Maria was aware of her father’s phrasing and of Stanhope’s increased tension at the sound of the Galeoto and Lucchese names.

  “Umberto was the one who found,” continued Orsinni senior, “the photograph you told me about, Maria. He recognized the sister of Salvatore, and the faces of the Vatican cleric and Claudio Canizzaro. He already knew that Salvatore was blaming Canizzaro for the loss of a great deal of money, and his enforcer, to the carabiniere. Umberto Galeoto is an ambitious man. He would like to replace Feruccio Busoni as chief enforcer for the Lucchese family.”

  Maria saw the glint in her father’s eyes and the rest of his body language was telling her that he was reaching the point of his narrative.

  “So Umberto saw in the photograph,” continued Orsinni senior, “a way to elevate his status. He would present the images, and Claudio Canizzaro, to Salvatore Lucchese. Which he Intended doing at midnight tonight.”

  “Midnight!” exclaimed Stanhope, “But we were told....”

  “You were told noon today, Signore,” interjected Orsinni senior, “because Umberto wanted everything in place before Salvatore gets there at midnight tonight.”

  “I don’t...,” began Stanhope again.

  “Eight nights ago, Signore Stanhope,” interjected Maria now, slowly unveiling her words, “you shared a dinner table with me. The kidnapping was discussed. Canizzaro said that when the photograph was found on the child, the kidnappers then introduced the Lucchese name to your negotiations. You didn’t correct him. The Lucchese name may very well have been used by the kidnappers, but not by anyone in the Lucchese family.”

  Maria saw the puzzlement still there in the Englishman’s eyes, but she ignored him now and looked directly across the desk to Giovanni Orsinni as she continued, “Salvatore Lucchese hasn’t even seen the photograph yet. He may not even know that it exists. Neither does he know yet of Canizzaro’s inclusion in all of this. He would have moved sooner had he done so. Whatever reason he has to be visiting a clan boss he rarely comes into contact with, has got nothing to do with a kidnapping, or a photograph, or Claudio Canizzaro.”

  Giovanni Orsinni turned towards Costello and smiled as he spoke, “Did I not tell you, Luigi, that my daughter would figure it out before the Englishman?”

  “You did, Giovanni, you did,” acknowledged Costello, his smile beaming its way to Maria.

  “So why is Salvatore meeting Galeoto at midnight?” asked Maria.

  “Salvatore firstly delayed,” replied Orsinni senior, “then changed their meeting date because he has been, quite literally, locked in to talks with Don Antonio which have needed his full attention over several days and nights. Don Antonio has told me it will amuse him to delay Salvatore for yet a few more hours, so Lucchese won’t arrive for his meeting with Galeoto until midnight. Galeoto believes that Salvatore is coming in response to his invitation to... how was it put, Luigi?”

  “To discover something which would restore his financial losses and increase his political power,” answered a straight-faced Costello.

  “How on earth could you possibly...,” began Stanhope.

  “Tell him, Maria,” interjected Orsinni senior.

  “Someone has betrayed Galeoto...,” began Maria.

  “Oh, I...,” began Stanhope.

  “...and has been talking... to?”continued Maria, ignoring Stanhope and watching her father.

  “To our Luigi,” said Orsinni senior, pausing long enough to allow the Costello smile to be beamed once more in Maria’s direction, “who is the cousin of one of Galeoto’s clan. Umberto has been making himself seriously unpopular with other clan bosses by encroaching on their business. His actions have endangered his own clan members. Luigi’s cousin is one of those members who wish that Umberto could be removed from power.”

  “So why,” began Stanhope again, “haven’t those members just put it to a vote, or something?”

  Maria watched as her father and Costello gazed benignly at the Englishman. She knew that they were politely concealing their thoughts on his notion of Mafia democracy.

  “It doesn’t work like that, Signore Stanhope,” said Maria, “and I imagine,” she calmly continued, looking at her father, “that Galeoto is not without support for his leadership.”

  “Two brothers,” acknowledged Orsinni senior, “who are feared even by the other clan bosses. They keep Umberto’s own clan in line.”

  “All of which,” said Maria, pointedly glancing at her watch, “brings us to where?”

  “All of which,” responded Orsinni senior, “brings us to where
Luigi takes Signore Stanhope to sample Signora Costello’s coffee while I speak with my daughter alone.”

  Maria had known this was coming but could see that the Englishman had been surprised by this sudden announcement. She hid her smile now with the thought that the sight of the solemn-faced and huge figure of Costello moving towards him, was probably making him think something other than coffee was on the menu. She revealed her smile as she spoke, “Don’t worry, Signore Stanhope, you’ll be fine. But it’s best that you leave now. What you don’t hear, you don’t have to worry about remembering.”

  “My wife makes excellent coffee, Signore,” said Costello, smiling now as he added, “and will enjoy the chance to practice her English. Come, we do not have far to go.”

  Maria silently awarded the Englishman high marks for his projection of nonchalance as he rose to accompany Costello. She reminded herself now that in the kidnap business, Stanhope would be accustomed to the shadowy dealings which went with it. He didn’t look at her as he left with his escort, but she read the body language which told her he was struggling to see through the shadows on this occasion.

  “His London based company is called ‘Recure’,” said Orsinni senior, “It is different from others in its field because it relies upon locally based people to handle any physical work. He has been with them for ten years, so we must assume that he is valued.”

  Maria silently digested this intel with the thought that her father hadn’t lost any time in finding out anything he could about anyone he might have dealings with. She merely nodded in response; waiting for the more important information.

  “As I began saying earlier,” resumed Orsinni senior, “Umberto Galeoto believes that Salvatore Is finally coming in response to his irresistible invitation. He thinks that the visit will lead to his promotion to the position of chief enforcer for the Lucchese family. He doesn’t know that in fact, Salvatore is coming to punish him.”

  “How can we know of Salvatore’s intentions?” asked Maria, frowning with her question.

  “Because Don Antonio Bartalucci has demanded it,” replied her father.

  Maria gave that news a moment’s thought. Whatever Galeoto had done to upset other clan bosses, had somehow impacted on Bartalucci business. The Lucchese family couldn’t afford to incur the wrath of the Bartalucci family, so it came down to simple mathematics: Take away a few minor figures, or lose too many major ones.

  “Why did Luigi wear his poker face,” asked Maria, “and lie about what Galeoto said when he last spoke to Salvatore Lucchese?”

  “Luigi thought it would amuse you, and impress the Englishman,” he replied, smiling, “We knew it wouldn’t fool you. What Umberto really said, apparently, was that he had a photograph which would increase Salvatore’s power. That’s why he believes his invitation is irresistible.”

  “Have you,” asked Maria, mentally crossing fingers, “had time to do as I asked?” She then watched, as in response her father opened his desk diary and extracted the photograph which he passed to her without comment. What she now held in her hand was just another unremarkable depiction of a tired looking woman gazing down at the obviously new-born baby she held in her arms. Beside mother and child, stood two men. One of those men looked old enough to be the baby’s new grandfather, the other man was younger and conveying to camera the unmistakeable smile of a proud father.

  “The child was born here in the compound a week ago,” said Giovanni, “and Salvatore will not recognize any of those faces.” He paused to smile, “Only an Orsinni mind would have been clever enough to see into the future and think of this. What gave you the idea?”

  Maria decided she wouldn’t mention her inspirational room service menu. “I was just covering the possibility of my being given the chance to substitute the real thing,” she smiled, “with something which would literally take Canizzaro out of the picture.” She dropped the smile as she added, “But it would have been a wasted idea if you hadn’t acted upon it, and I’m sure your brother will thank you for that.” She glanced at her watch; 4-10pm. “How much time do I have to get to where I’m going?” She then saw the desk diary being closed with fingers that trembled slightly.

  “You sound like,” said Giovanni Orsinni, “you are talking to a travel agent who is not even worth the enquiry as to his health since your last meeting.” He paused, and his heavy sigh travelled across the desk, “You still haven’t forgiven me for not telling you about Claudio. For many things, perhaps.”

  Maria stared at her father as she struggled to mask her surprise and self-admonishment. He was entitled, she realized, to be offended and upset: His own daughter hadn’t uttered a single word of endearment since entering this room. Into her head now came the voice of her English tutor quoting the Englishman, Oscar Wilde; Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them. She rose to her feet and moved round the desk to stand beside her father.

  “I apologise, Papa, for my rudeness. I love you,” she told him, bending to kiss his cheek.

  “I have missed you,” he said.

  “I will come and see you more often,” she promised.

  “I will look forward to your visits,” said Orsinni senior.

  “You will look forward to the arguments, is what you mean by that,” riposted Maria.

  Giovanni Orsinni smiled at his daughter, and waved her back to her seat as he spoke.

  “You must try to understand, Maria, that this is difficult for me. I have sat at this desk and briefed many men in this room. But this will be the first time I have briefed my own daughter. What you will be undertaking will place you in danger of....”

  “I understand that,” interjected Maria, using the smile now to soften the steel in her voice, “and I also understand the risks involved. But you must remember that the risks business is the one I have elected to spend my life dealing with. I’ve spent many years training to handle myself in the kinds of situations we’ve been discussing here today. I can take care of myself, so begin your briefing, please. How much time do I have?”

  “You leave here at six and should arrive about nine,” her father succinctly replied.

  “What have you arranged?”

  “Twelve kilometres from here,” he replied, “a private six-seater plane is standing by at L’aerporto Ciampino. Costello will drive you there. Your take-off time will be seven pm. The plane will be piloted by one of our people. It will take you and Luigi to L’aerporto Punta Raisi in Palermo. It’s a forty-minute flight. Our pilot is well known there and guarantees to have you clear of the airport by 8-15pm.”

  Maria wasn’t entirely comfortable with the our people bit but remained silent.

  “Waiting for you outside the Palermo airport,” he continued, “will be a private van with a special cargo. Luigi knows its location, so will direct the van driver to a Galeoto warehouse in East Palermo. As I speak, the warehouse is being watched by our people. If nothing has changed by the time you arrive, inside will be the Galeoto brothers and the hostages.”

  Maria didn’t comment, but she didn’t think that the Galeoto brothers would be alone and she had noted the words special cargo.

  “Luigi and his team,” continued Orsinni senior, “will go in with you; they will deal with the opposition. His team will be told you are there to assist with the child. Only Luigi knows what you will be doing with the photograph.”

  Maria controlled her reaction on hearing that Luigi would have his own team and that she was not expected to take part in their assigned activity.

  “Everybody does what they’re supposed to do,” continued her father, “and then Luigi’s team disappears in Palermo. You and Luigi go back to the airport with the ransom, the child, and this other Englishman who has been assisting Canizzaro. Your flight departure time is eleven pm.”

  Maria leant forward and cupped her chi
n in her hand, miming across the desk to her father that she was going into thought-mode. And there was a lot to think about, she silently told herself now. She had been wondering when the ransom would be mentioned; the Bartalucci family wouldn’t be going to all this trouble just to ‘discreetly assist’ her to protect Canizzaro with the photograph switch. They had their own profit-linked agenda. Baletto would get his daughter back, but he, the Vatican, and Tommaso could kiss goodbye to anything else.

  Maria’s thoughts ran on at speed: For whatever reason, the Bartalucci Don didn’t trust Salvatore Lucchese to administer Galeoto’s punishment, so they were sending in Luigi and his team to do the job. Allowing her to be present to make the photograph switch, had presumably been the Don’s way of granting Giovanni Orsinni a favour for old time’s sake. She sighed with the reminder that her father had said the timing of her approach for help had been ‘fortunate’. She silently chastised herself now; she should have known better.

  Maria closed her eyes to strengthen the image of an inexperienced young woman deep in thought after hearing Giovanni Orsinni’s briefing. She had to face the fact that logistics ruled out a solo operation. There would be too much to do, too far away, in too short a time. She also had to come out of this with one female child and one adult male in hopefully undamaged condition. But damaged passengers or not, the six-seater plane was a necessary tool and even if she’d known how to fly the thing, she couldn’t just land it and walk away to the waiting van.

  Her thoughts turned to the described end-game. She would, it seemed, merely be witnessing Luigi and his team going up against the three Galeoto brothers, and whoever else might choose to stand with them. All she had to do was make the photograph switch and get Tommaso and the girl out of there. But there was still no questioning the fact that she needed help and would be putting herself in debt to Don Antonio Bartalucci by accepting it. She opened her eyes and looked across the desk.