by Frank, S. W.
These coincidences were troubling, because in Alberti’s experience, multiple concurrences were often linked. Nico, was good at discovery. How else could he have puzzled together the truth about his parentage? There was however, a piece which did not fit, one fact he got wrong and that was about his adopted mother. Angelina was not Nico’s biological mother, Sabrina Deguardino was. How do you tell a child or a man, he was not wanted by his own mother or not loved enough to keep?
Alberti would have told him long ago the truth, but his adoptive parents were the only parents Nico knew and what good would it have done? Seeing his son’s pain injured Alberti’s soul. He had a duty to his older brother Luzo, to teach Alfonzo their ways and ensure the restoration of the Giacanti name. It was nearing the time for the Giacanti re-emergence. The journalist would have gotten it wrong, told lies about his family and started wars. Alberti could not chance this occurring, nor did he want Nico or Vincent to learn about their real parents this way. But, now that Nico knew, Alberti would have to disclose it all.
Alberti surmised Nico began to suspect his paternal connection when by happenchance he met his daughters several years ago and then set about to research the Giacanti’s. If this is so, he would have discovered Sergio Giacanti’s father, Nicolo Giacanti had a twin brother whose name was Vincenzo. The Giacanti family was reborn in Nico, Vincent, Giuseppe, Alfonzo Amelda, Gabriela, Adrianna and his twin daughters, Madeline and Evangeline.
You see, the Giacanti’s flourished and Nico’s acuity is vital to their survival. He would keep them safe just as Alberti had done for many years, but first Alberti must speak with Nico. He needed to disclose the truth about his birth and set his mind to peace before the man burned hellfire and unset everything he’d done to restore their name.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The short flight from Palermo to Milan took less than two hours. He and Domingo walked through the door of the guest house before dawn and found his mother sitting there with a worried expression on her face. When she saw them, she seemed disappointed as if she had expected someone else to enter.
Trepiditiously Alfonzo closed the door, “Mama, que paso?”
“Yo no sé! We went out with the children, then when we returned found a note from Selange saying she was walking in the garden but she has not come back and no one’s seen her.”
Alfonzo froze. His heart punched through his chest. This was the fibrillation that unsealed the hidden section of his heart. It showed itself and it was raw. “Mama, how long ago?”
“Diez horas!”
“Ten hours since you’ve seen Selange or ten hours since you discovered the note?”
His mother frowned at the question, “Since the note.”
“When was the last time you saw my wife, mama?”
“Around one o’clock.”
“Fuck!” He apologized, “Lo siento…lo siento. Mama did you ask the other women?”
“Of course,” she said indignantly, “they haven’t seen her since lunch. The guards are searching the grounds because no one saw her leave. It’s not like Selange to disappear. She always tell the children good-night hijo, she is a good mother. She is not answering her cell, this is not my daughter-in-law. Something bad has happened. I told you this place, these people…”
“Stop mama…stop…por favor…this one time..para mi…détente!
He ran his fingers through his hair. He realized his mother sat alone. Teresa must not know and he wondered why. “How long did you wait before you said something?”
“I prayed she’d return. When she didn’t come in an hour ago I went to the house and woke Sophie.”
Of course she would wait. Of course she would pray. Of course, this was his mother. Her faith was greater than her common sense!
Domingo was up the stairs. He would wake Teresa and they would scour the grounds as well. But Alfonzo had no such patience and rushed out the door and saw Vincent running toward him from the larger house.
They met in the middle of the grounds.
“I just heard, do you think she took off?” Vincent asked.
“She would take the kids Vin…one thing I know about my wife is she loves those kids more than anything!”
There was activity outside the front door. Several of the guards were shouting in Italian, he saw who they were shouting at and ran over when he saw Renalda in their midst. The other women were filing from the house in their robes, waving their hands and gesturing when he got over to where the commotion took place.
“What’s going on?”
One of the guards pointed at Renalda, “She insists on leaving to help find Mrs. Diaz and refuses to go back inside!”
Sophie interjected, “She feels guilty about Selange and only wants to help.”
“Guilty?” Alfonzo’s eyebrow went vertical, “Guilty about what?”
The women were all talking now in rapid succession. “It was an earlier prank, that’s all.”
What the fuck were they talking about, Alfonzo wondered?
Adrianna’s blue eyes were ablaze, “No…no…Alfonzo, they were threatening your wife. One gave Selange a note, saying she was trash. Selange said nothing to you about this but I told her to tell you.”
“What?”
Lucia tried to explain, “Our initiation was a prank but it went too far…”
Crystalia added, “Renalda and Lucia were pretending to kidnap her the first day she came here…then Renalda threatened to kill her and the children…”
“What the hell?”
Renalda spoke up for herself, “It was a bad joke and your wife hit me. Made my face swell and of course I said mean things after that but I have nothing to do with what has happened!”
Alfonzo was livid. Geez, they were fucking torturing his wife and she kept this from him. Oh man, he felt like crap!
Vincent shouted a command and the women were ushered inside. They had precious little time to mobilize and their ramblings were only delaying them. He turned to his boss, “We’ll have a few of the men check outside the grounds and another group driving into the city.”
Alfonzo’s face contorted into an angry mask, “How does she leave and no one see her Vincent…tell me that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Something isn’t right, if she didn’t leave on her own then how did someone take her…how?”
“We got guards all around the place. Someone should have seen her, unless someone’s lying and were inattentive. Maybe, went to use the bathroom or fell asleep.”
“Exactly!” He stormed inside the house and found the women clustered in a conspiratorial circle arguing quietly. “Where is she and you better not lie goddammit!”
***
Nico regained consciousness, blinking under the force of the light. He felt the sticky blood covering his eye and tried to will away the headache compressing against his skull. He was trying to focus, figure out where he was, scanning for any sign of Selange. Last thing, he remembered is stepping out the door, a gun being pointed at him, a fight. Yeah, someone cradled a broken wrist and maybe even a nose if his memory served him right but that’s all he could recall.
He was bound to a chair, his mouth duct-taped and when the fog in his head cleared he realized he was in the middle of the floor of the safe house. Then he heard muffled sounds nearby and swiveled his head to see Selange. She was lying on the floor, feet and hands restricted by a cord interconnected. Her mouth was covered with duct-tape and she squirmed trying to get free. Nico’s eyes regained their clarity, someone would pay, he swore!
“Awake?”
Then he saw the face, recognized it and he grew calm. There was no outlet for the anger and he had to reserve it.
“Remember me Nico?”
Of course he did. The man with the cut across his face was Gina’s step-brother Marco Bocelli. The dumb prick whose father he and Vincent sliced into pieces and tossed into the Mediterranean Sea as food. His eyes twinkled at the humor of this; too bad he couldn’t share the joke with the
fool. Another man circled his chair with a makeshift splint on his wrist and the mystery was solved. He actually chuckled at the pain worn on the angry man’s face. Punk-ass!
“Something funny?” The punk-ass asked.
Nico chuckled again, he would answer but under the circumstances it was difficult to with the tape. A blow struck Nico in the ribs and he sucked it in, and then straightened up. Yeah, cliché, but in this case, punk-ass actually did hit like a girl.
Nico’s eyes went down to the floor, wow, they had torture tools. Yeah, this was getting good. The only problem, punk-ass was sliding them across the floor with his feet toward Selange. Nico’s chest expanded angrily. They touch one hair on her head and he was going to rip out their hearts. The fun was over!
Marco laughed, “Did you think those were for you? No…no…no!”
The binds on Nico’s hands were pulled so tight his wrists were on fire. He tested the binds at his feet, found them tighter and chose to work his hands out if he had to take skin and bone to accomplish it.
“I will ask a question, you will answer with the truth. You lie, we cut a finger from the lovely hands of your…um…mistress…girlfriend.”
He ripped the tape from Nico’s mouth.
“Marco…let the woman go. We can do this without her.”
“Today I set the rules, vecchio amico.”
Nico experienced stinging as his skin peeled away once he started twisting his hands. To stall the start of the question-answer session, he grinned, “You were always such a vigliacco, Gina did have more balls for a woman. I guess you weren’t really your father’s son after-all, she was!”
Marco kicked over the chair and Nico tumbled backward. “Shut-up!”
“Make me vigliacco!”
Being called a coward infuriated Marco. His half-sister Gina used the term often to humiliate him in front of his friends when they were in grade school. Her teasing continued into adulthood, however the disparaging remarks were far worse in the later years because they were spoken in contempt. He hated Gina and when she disappeared several years ago, his world became nicer in her absence. –And now Nico sought to offend him. Luzo Palazzo’s notorious enforcer, the Devil’s Angel had finally fallen out of favor in La Costra Nostra. Boning a prominent mobster’s wife yielded deadly consequences. In fact, he was surprised Nico lived.
He kicked Nico in the chest with his boot and his smile faded. “You’ve been a busy man.” Marco’s bushy eyebrows collided, “Fucking your boss’ wife is a huge no-no. I am doing you a favor by being here. When I’m done, your death will be quick, unlike her husband who would have killed you very slowly.”
Nioc heard a muffled squeal and turned to see the broken-wrist man bending over Selange, a lascivious smile on the perverted dry mouth. Selange kicked at him with her feet and his eyes glistened in lust.
“Hey dog, leave her alone!”
The men laughed, touched by his bravado.
Marco’s five foot five frame elongated, he was in charge. The hour had come for Nico to be reminded of it.
Nico turned harder, palms closed, fingers tight, his flesh the friction to loosen and…shit…he got loose!
“So, here’s the question. Where is the wedding and is Alberti attending?”
Ah, and so the mystery was answered. Gina must have reached out from the grave. She discovered or suspected, hadn’t she? Her idiot of a brother hadn’t guessed and his lack of intellect obvious. Gina’s inept sibling hadn’t connected the dots until now. He wondered what triggered Marco’s sudden flash of genius; was it the inquisitive journalist with the endless questions and theories that brought renewed interest in the rumored ledger? Did he finally realize Alberti held the power all along? Yes, unimposing, charming Alberti was the most cunning of his brother’s. Nico, knew this for many years. A boy does not flourish in the house of a man nicknamed, ‘The Butcher’ without absorbing a calculating heart. As a Giacanti, Alberti received an Ivy League education and given rudimentary defense training by his father. Nico knew this because Alberti told him. Nico and Vincent on the other-hand received a formal education in both military style combat and killing. This began from the age of six and at eighteen they officially entered the family business. Their first independent assignment at the order of Luzo Palazzo, his father’s friend was eliminating Xavier Bocelli, the father of Luzo’s young wife who had embezzled hundreds of thousands from his Gina’s trust fund. He learned later, this was a lie. Gina had no trust fund; she simply wanted her step-father dead for personal reasons. That was his introduction to the manipulative woman and the beginning of a long career working for Luzo Palazzo. He was eighteen and one of his youngest personal bodyguards –but then three years later, he got a new assignment. One Luzo said he couldn’t trust anyone but Nico to do. Thinking about it now, guarding an unsuspecting thirteen year old boy in a foreign country and remaining invisible was the hardest job of his career. He did it, though. Five long years in America, learning their customs, language, foods and most of all becoming an American to blend in. He had no social life, no family, no friends, only the occasional warmth of random women he screwed then hurriedly sent on their way without learning their names.
Guns, knives and obscurity were his friends. He was a man without love who was taught to avoid distractions. His father said relationships were the worst kind.
Nico questioned the logic, “Then why do you have a wife?”
“Your mother is not a relationship, or distraction. She is part of my heart that makes it beat; do you understand the difference boy?”
Nico hadn’t, it made no sense. Time elapsed since he was told this and years after, he met Ariana. Every moment without her caused violent palpitations but when they were together, his body was serenity. Then he understood and considered his father a wise man. But now, it was not Ariana eliciting such emotions but Selange. The strangest part of it is, Nico was in agony every moment, wanting to love her, protect her, take her with him…yes…the agony…the torture of it was she belonged to Alfonzo and loved him. Until, their love died and she could be with Nico without the trappings of a guilty conscience they had no future. He was practical in his assessment. Selange required absolution from Alfonzo, otherwise he was forced to cut out his heart and accept his fate. Physical torture suddenly appeared more appealing than the emotional one.
His mind switched to Alberti and he scoffed, fate is quite the bitch!
Tonight death was coming and he wanted to meet it at the crossroads. If he couldn’t have Selange, okay –but ratting is another thing. Weak men cave to pressure and he wasn’t fluffy like most. This is the time he wished Selange was with her husband and not here.
He snarled at Marco, “Why coward?”
“Wrong response. Kyle, finger!”
Nico shot up, gripped Marco’s neck and was a hair’s breadth from snapping it when a cord wrapped around his neck and cut his air supply. Nico released Marco, reached behind his head to the hands holding the cord and used his forearms to forcefully scissor the hold. Encumbered by the chair, feet bound and balancing on his knees wasn’t exactly an ideal fighting position for Nico. His captors were having a hard time of it, also and found they were unable to match Nico’s strength or deflect his blows. Infuriated at Nico’s lack of cooperation, Marco withdrew a pistol and fired in Selange’s direction!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
High morning. Yes, that’s the dumb-ass term he heard on some news program a few years back and questioned, ‘exactly what the hell is high morning? When he did an internet search it came back with a list of Tom Petty songs and answers unrelated to the question. He developed his own definition, high morning; the early part of dawn when you wake up feeling happy you’re breathing and so damn light from it, you feel high ‘cause you made it to another morning.
Atop the windowsill sat a half smoked bag of weed. This was the room his wife shared with Kim-Sung prior to moving in the guest house. Alfonzo came here to search for any clues, anything to help him find Selange. The
hush-hush conversation the women were having earlier centered on the recent discovery that Kim- Sung was not in her bedroom or anywhere in the house. They theorized Selange and Kim-Sung were hanging out, essentially and perhaps lost track of time.
Well, to Alfonzo, the theory sucked. He knew his wife better than any of them. Responsibility was Selange’s middle name. She would not have gone to ‘hang-out’ in a foreign country and not inform someone. No, something happened…something…bad…he sensed it.
He was rummaging through the bureau drawers. Women’s lingerie, a few oriental style robes, the silky sexy kind. He pat around with his hand and touched a paper. He removed it and looked at a familiar photograph of his wife and the children smiling back at him. He remembered this picture; he took it last year when they were outdoors enjoying the day. Kim-Sung must have taken it from her wallet, Selange loved this picture. He put it in his pocket then tried his wife’s cell phone once more. In a sudden lucid moment he recalled there was a companion tracking system on his wife’s phone and quickly activated it.
He chastised himself aloud, “Stupido!”
In minutes he was looking at a satellite view of a location, his legs were moving at a normal pace, then the strides quickened, soon he was running down the stairs, shouting for Vincent and a few men.
Silently he spoke to God asking to let him find Selange unharmed. Despite their marital discourse, she was the mother of his children. Sure, he was mad at her. Actually, infuriated –but he loved her. He felt it now. The emotion came…hit him with such ferocity it crippled his body. The possibility occurred he might never see her again. He couldn’t fathom a life without her. God, let her be okay he begged because if anyone hurt her…they’d plead for death!