“Half a billion Euros,” Canna said across the table at him.
“What?”
“Half a billion Euros and I walk away. Each of you will hold your position in your companies, and Giorgio can have total power. What happens after that isn’t my business. I can take the blame for the bribe scandal. Blame it all on me and I will quit. You will be happy.”
“We don’t have half a billion Euros to spare,” Giorgio replied.
“Yes, we do. I know we have at least that much in the Austrian tax evasion accounts.”
“We can’t give you that amount of money,” Ernesto said.
“I have intimate knowledge of this business,” Canna said. “I can hold each of you to ransom with something. Do you want to be exposed? Do you want to lose your fortunes?”
“Are you blackmailing us?” Giorgio asked.
“Yes. You could give in, and we can all go home.” Canna’s arm had begun to throb under her jacket sleeve. “I want out. I have a vote on the board, and I won’t vote to fire Giorgio.”
“Thank you, I suppose,” Giorgio grumbled. “Catherine, why do you want out?”
“You’re all rich, and all anyone worries about is making money and looking good. I can’t be part of that anymore.” Canna left the room; there was nothing else to say. She could hear the voices of the board members as she walked down the hallway back to her office. She walked past Francesca at the desk, who looked worried. “Canna, are you okay?”
Canna stopped and shut her eyes. “The Milan apartment; I want it sold. Get it on the market. I want it all gone. Auction off the furniture and artwork, just get rid of the whole place.”
“Are you sure?”
“Giuseppe left it to me, and I want it sold!” Canna cried.
“Sorry,” Francesca replied.
Canna brushed off the apology with a flippant wave of her sore arm and stormed back into the office. Her body had a purpose all of its own; she went straight in the direction of the pills on the desk. She took them in a heartbeat, no water needed. She turned and opened the cabinet across the room, a cupboard full in alcohol. Canna grabbed a dark cognac and ripped the lid off the old bottle. She had several mouthfuls before it managed to burn her stomach. Canna was right back where she started. Weak and pathetic.
CHAPTER 16
MILAN
Pain. Headache. Canna sat in a heap at the bottom of the marble staircase in her apartment, dressed in nothing more than a silk nightgown. Her face pressed against the wall while the room spun around her. She had been drinking, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t take another drop. The alcohol would come back up soon. Canna had her own test – if she rubbed her teeth together and couldn’t feel them, then she was drunk. Her teeth had lost all feeling a while ago.
Canna could only hear the sound of her breathing. In, out. In, out. There seemed to be a mind-numbing, delicious peace, which couldn’t last. Bang, bang, bang. Canna opened one eye and tried to concentrate. Bang, bang, bang. What? The door. The doorbell had rung. Someone called her name. It seemed muffled as if coming from underwater. Alcohol kept everything at a distance.
The banging intensified, and Canna sat up straight. Across the large entrance way of the apartment she saw the front door open, or rather smash open, and Giorgio fell through the broken doorway. “What the fuck?” she cried.
Giorgio ran over and fell to his knees. “Catherine, are you alone?”
“No. Dark thoughts have come to visit.”
Giorgio frowned. “You should get out of here now.” His eyes ran over her body, which the loose nightgown barely covered. Fortunately for Canna, the room was in almost complete darkness. “Has anyone called? Has anyone come here?”
“No.” Canna shook her head and focused. “Why can’t I just be left alone?”
The silence of the dark apartment broke. The phone chimed throughout the expanse. “Shit, we should go!” Giorgio cried.
“What, why?” Canna could barely see Giorgio in the darkness.
“Do you want to die? Where is Giancarlo?”
“He borrowed my car. He took his wife on a date.”
“We have to leave. Fibonacci put a hit out on you.”
Canna scoffed. “What?”
“Fibonacci wants you dead.”
“This afternoon Fibonacci wanted me to stay on the board, and wanted you to leave. Why would he want me dead?”
“Ernesto Fibonacci hated uncle Giuseppe. That is well-established. If they pay you out of the company and Caraceni goes bankrupt, or if you spill company secrets, he will be disgraced. His chance at being Prime Minister in the future will be ruined.”
“Since when did Fibonacci want to run the country?”
“Caraceni Industries practically already runs this country. Fibonacci has wanted to be Prime Minister for years. He’s the director of Caraceni Media, so he owns most of what gets said to the public. He can do anything he likes and people will believe it.”
“Then why didn’t he silence the prostitute scandal?”
“So you and I would be hurt, and he could rise above us.”
“Then why did he say he wants me to stay on the board?”
“To use you and dump you later. Only after today, now Fibonacci knows he needs to eliminate you.”
“Fibonacci wouldn’t kill me. That’s absurd.”
“Do you know that Giuseppe had people killed when they fell out of favour with him?”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. The work was carried out by Giancarlo.”
“Giancarlo never told you about how many times people tried to kill you, did he?” Giorgio asked.
“That didn’t happen. Giuseppe tried to scare me, and said that people wanted to hurt me. Giancarlo was hired to follow me, so Giuseppe knew what I was doing. He stalked me.”
“Catherine, trust me, Fibonacci wants to hurt you.”
“I’m too drunk to make a decision about this.”
The pair heard the terrifying sound of a gun being cocked, and they jumped in the dark. “Don’t move a muscle,” said a voice.
Canna took a deep sigh of relief. Dark or not, she would always recognise that voice. She watched Giancarlo force Giorgio face down on the ground. She wouldn’t stop Giancarlo; Canna wasn’t sure who was the enemy.
“Turn the light on please, Canna,” Giancarlo asked.
Canna fumbled for the light switch and flicked. Her sore tear-filled eyes adjusted to the sight of Giorgio face down on the marble. Giancarlo held the gun to Giorgio’s temple, and one knee hard against his spine. “Are you okay?’ Giancarlo asked Canna.
“Never mind her, get off me!” Giorgio shrieked. “I’m here to help her while you weren’t here!”
“What’s going on?” Canna folded her arms to hold the flimsy gown closed.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about because I’m here,” Giancarlo said. “I’m always watching.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone is going to kill you,” Giorgio mumbled against the floor.
“Shut the fuck up,” Giancarlo said and increased the pressure on Giorgio’s spine. The man cried out, and Giancarlo smiled.
“This is all bullshit. No one ever hurt me.” Canna shook her head; sobering up was harder than expected.
“Lots of people tried to hurt you. I just didn’t tell you,” Giancarlo sighed. “Sorry, Canna. I couldn’t tell you the truth.”
“You work for me now.”
“Yes, someone wants to hurt you. I don’t know who yet. For all I know, this guy here could have arranged it.”
“It wasn’t me!” Giorgio said. “Fibonacci has his guy looking for Catherine.”
“What is his method for murder?” Canna asked. “Is it like yours, Giancarlo? Load a gun and force the victim to shoot himself?”
“No, Fibonacci’s guy is more ruthless than that. His victims end up in pieces.”
“It’s not my guy,” Giorgio said. “My guards are watching my home. Why would I be here if I did
n’t want to help?”
“That’s true, Giorgio wouldn’t get his own hands dirty,” Canna said.
“Why are you here?” Giancarlo asked. The gun didn’t move from its spot against Giorgio’s head. “Someone smashed the damn door.”
“I knocked, and Catherine didn’t reply. I worried they were already here.”
“Why not send your guy to see me?” Canna asked.
“I wanted to help you,” Giorgio replied.
Canna gestured for Giancarlo to relent, and the towering Italian stood up again. Giorgio sat up on the marble floor, but he looked sore. Blood poured from his smashed nose. “I heard the rumour and panicked, okay?” Giorgio uttered.
“I heard someone wanted to threaten Canna, to scare her, not kill her,” Giancarlo replied. “What this implies, I’m not sure. Beating, rape… who knows.”
“If I wanted to send a message, I would hurt friends and family, not the person involved.” Canna blinked a few times while she spoke.
“That’s pretty cruel,” Giorgio mumbled.
“It works,” Giancarlo said. “People give into anything if they know their loves ones are in danger.”
“What did I do?” Canna implored.
“Fibonacci has been angry about your appointment at Caraceni Industries. He wanted the top job,” Giorgio explained.
“Everyone wanted the top job.”
“But you and I got the role. They were going to get rid of me, and then gang up on you, pressure you into leaving with nothing. They didn’t count on you jumping before they could push. They assumed that you would vote with them to have me fired.”
“That’s bold. You and I aren’t friends.”
“They think we’re sleeping together. After all, Fibonacci had his newspapers print that in the gossip section.”
Canna covered her face with her hands and swayed on the spot. “I can’t deal with this. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Giorgio stood up and put his hand in his pocket. “Do you want some more pills?”
“You gave her pills?” Giancarlo cried.
“Just a few, before the meeting today, for her sore arm.”
“What sore…” Giancarlo didn’t bother to finish his sentence. With a single crunching blow, Giorgio was back on the floor. He held his bloody face and began to cry.
“You’re the enemy!” Giancarlo boomed at the crying billionaire.
“It’s not like that,” Canna said. “I just… I had a headache. There wasn’t any agenda.”
The phone rang again, and all three paused. “We have to leave,” Giancarlo said. “They are checking to see if you’re here.”
“Who?” she squinted. “Will they call and ask if I’m home and available to be executed?”
“No, they no doubt know you’re already here. They’re just checking to see if you’re alone. Go upstairs and get whatever you need for a few days.”
“I can’t. I feel terrible.” The alcohol in Canna’s stomach churned. Without any more warning, Canna expelled what her body couldn’t process, a vile mixture of hard liquor and beer all over Giorgio on the floor. She took a deep breath. “Wow, that helped.”
“This is what I get for helping,” Giorgio mumbled as he pulled himself off the floor, now in a well-mixed combination of vomit and blood.
Canna turned and limped up the stairs towards her bedroom. She didn’t even know where she could hide. She didn’t care; the bed looked so inviting. Her phone sat where she had tossed it earlier. She picked it up and hit one on speed dial.
“Hey!” she yelled when Claudio answered. “What are you doing?”
“It’s midnight. I was asleep.”
“Life is so easy for you, isn’t it?”
“What’s wrong, Blinky? Are you okay?”
“No,” Canna said, her voice full of emotion. “I’m not. It’s your fault.”
“What did I do?”
“You… if I didn’t love you, my life would be so much easier.”
“If I didn’t love you, you would be dead by now.”
“I’m as good as dead anyway!” Canna cried down the phone. “It’s your fault that life is hard. Without you, I could just live my life and be miserable. Now, someone cares about my actions. It’s too hard!”
“What’s too hard?”
“EVERYTHING!”
“What happened? Only 24 hours ago, you seemed to have everything under control.”
“Someone tried to kill me… or thought about it… or something!”
“Who? What happened?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
“You aren’t making any sense, Blinky. Please calm down.”
Canna slumped onto the bed and took a deep breath. “Claudio.”
“I’m here.”
“I have a drinking problem.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” Canna heard Claudio sniff. “Are you crying?”
“You make things hard, Blinky. I’m a long way away, and I can’t help.”
“You don’t need to cry.” Canna’s own eyes began to well up with tears. “It’s all my fault.”
“Are you alone?”
“No, Giancarlo is downstairs, and so is Giorgio, but he got punched and then I puked on him.”
“Do you want me to come to Milan?”
“No!” she shrieked. “No, it’s not a good idea. You need to stay away from me. All the time.”
“No, I won’t. You need help.”
“I need lots of help.”
“I’m glad you want to admit that. I said I would help you when you were ready to admit you need it.”
“Don’t bother, I’m leaving town for a few days.”
“And going where?”
“I don’t know. It’s a ‘flee into the night’ kind of thing.”
“With who?”
“Giancarlo.”
“Canna, please tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t even know,” she wept. “I’m drunk and I took pills. I want my old life back. Back when I took morphine, everything was under control. I had this perfect little life on Pembridge Crescent. Running from Giuseppe was easier than having to face life here.”
“We can extract you from that life. But you keep telling me that you want to work in Milan.” Claudio paused and wiped his tears. “God, Canna, why do you have to do this when I can’t be there to help you?”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have called you. I have to go now.”
“Go where?”
“Somewhere with Giancarlo. Don’t worry, he loaded his gun. Everything will be fine.”
“That doesn’t help! My darling, please. Let me know you’re all right.”
“I took pills.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Giorgio gave him to me… after I cut my arm… on purpose.” Canna burst into fresh tears. “I fucked up, Claudio!”
“I want you to go and get Giancarlo. Let him take you to Aosta, to Beneserre. You need to see the doctor.”
“NO! I hated rehab!”
“You’ve got no choice. I love you on the condition that you’re well. You’re not well. I will come and see you.”
Giancarlo appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. “Canna, are you ready?”
Canna nodded. “I have to go,” she said to Claudio.
“No! Blinky, shit, don’t do this to me! Don’t just disappear!”
Canna hung up on Claudio and wiped her face. “I need help. Please help me.”
“Whatever you need,” Giancarlo said. “You’re the boss.”
“I don’t know what I need anymore.”
CHAPTER 17
AOSTA
Canna didn’t need to open her eyes to realise where she was. The familiar smell gave away the location. It wasn’t something specific, more a mix of fresh flowers, new carpets and disinfected bed sheets. Beneserre rehab clinic.
She exhaled and half-opened one eye. Her right arm stung; someone had taped an IV to
her wrist. It had the delicious pain of a needle. How familiar and comforting. A tight bandage covered the cut from the letter opener.
Canna groaned and rolled onto her back. She blinked a few times, but not much came into focus; she had lost her contact lenses and glasses. She turned away from the window; some bastard had opened the curtains and the violent daylight felt like knives in her eyes. There in the corner sat Claudio with a blank expression. “What are you doing here?” she cried and sat up in bed. The room began to spin, but she ignored it.
“Your doctor called me at about 4am,” Claudio said but didn’t move from the seat. “I had already booked a flight to Milan when Dr. Riberi called, and I arrived here a few hours ago in a full panic.”
“Why were you panicking?”
Claudio got up and approached the bed. “Do you remember last night? You called me at home.” He sat down and took her hand.
Canna squinted. “Last night?”
“You don’t remember?” Claudio stood up and rubbed his hands over his unshaven face. He shook his head, and Canna could see how upset he felt.
“Oh my God!” Canna cried, and she threw the sheet off her body. She still wore her nightgown from last night. “We have to run!”
“What?”
“Someone is trying to kill me! Where’s Giancarlo?”
“He has gone back to Milan. He dropped you off here in the middle of the night, at my request.”
“We need to leave. Let’s go to London for now. Wait, no, that puts you in danger. You go to London, and I’ll go somewhere else. Corsica? No, too obvious to go to my own holiday house…”
Claudio shook his head while Canna rambled. “Catherine Ann Medici, please shut up!”
“Did Giancarlo tell you about last night? With Giorgio? Does Giorgio know that I’m here? I think I threw up on him.”
“What does Giorgio have to do with this?”
“He was the one who warned me about the hitman before Giancarlo arrived to get me out of the house.”
Claudio put his hand over his own mouth. He looked ready to cry. “I can’t believe it,” he mumbled through his hand.
Violent Daylight Page 17