Malavita (9 page)

Enrico stepped inside the well-appointed room, a wall of windows looking out at the lake, his father and his desk at the far end of the room, a leather sofa and chairs grouped around a low table midway between the desk and the door. Books Enrico had handled many times lined the shelves around the room; the overall effect was of a library, but the goings-on in that room were anything but genteel.

His father looked up when Enrico entered, his drawn face softening with a weak smile. “Rico, how did things go with Antonella?”

“Well enough, Papà.” Enrico took a chair in front of the desk. “Actually, I rather like her.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I want you to be happy in this marriage.”

How can I be happy without my son?
Enrico almost snapped, but forced himself not to. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm about all this. After what Andretti did, he deserves to die.”

“He does, but…” Rinaldo’s voice trailed off into a whisper.

“But what, Papà?”

“It is not possible.”

“Anything is possible.”

Rinaldo pinned him with a hard stare. “Let it go.”

This time he couldn’t help himself. “Let it
go
? How am I supposed to do that? If I marry her, I have to see Carlo Andretti over and over again, giving me that smug smile and rubbing my nose in the dirt. How am I supposed to
let that go
?”

“Rico, you must.”

“I need a reason.”

Rinaldo’s face darkened. “Damn it, Rico, I’m your father. Your
capo
.”

“And if I’m to be
capo
someday, I need to understand what’s happening here. Why you’ve rolled over for Carlo Andretti. Why you stopped fighting.”

Rinaldo looked down and passed a hand across his face. “I haven’t wanted to tell you this, but you’re right. It’s time you knew.”

Enrico leaned forward in his chair, his gut tightening. His father looked like he was about to deliver the worst news imaginable. But what could be worse than what had already befallen them?

Rinaldo opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew an envelope and handed it to Enrico. “This is from Carlo.”

Enrico tipped the envelope and pulled out a series of photos. They’d been taken with a telephoto lens, and each one was of Enrico’s uncle Leopoldo or his cousin Dom. The photos had obviously been taken during surveillance. And as if the message could be misinterpreted, each photo had a rifle sight drawn over it. A wave of heat flooded Enrico’s face and chest. Pure unadulterated rage. Hadn’t Carlo taken enough from them?

The photos shaking in his hands, Enrico looked up at his father. “We have to crush him, Papà.”

Rinaldo shook his head. “We can’t.”

“We
can
. You just have to try again.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Enrico jumped to his feet and slapped the photos onto his father’s desk. “What is wrong with you? It
is
that simple.”

Rinaldo rose too and leaned over the desk. “It was my arrogance that got them all killed. We haven’t the resources to fight Carlo Andretti. I will not risk any more Lucchesis. This is a fight we’ll lose.”

Dread chilled Enrico, almost making him shiver. “It’s true, then.”

“What?”

“We’re broke.”

Rinaldo looked away. “We might as well be.”

“How did this happen?” Enrico asked, his voice raspy.

“You know that I’ve always held to the old ways.” Enrico nodded; he agreed with his father’s desire to keep the ’Ndrangheta out of drugs, prostitution, and pornography. “And you know that Carlo Andretti has been eager to embrace the new ones. That’s partly why he was exiled from Calabria.”

Enrico knew the tale—that Carlo had defied his father and gone too far in his tangle with another
capo
, bringing censure on the Andretti family. When Carlo killed Enrico’s mother and brothers, that wasn’t the first time he’d broken ’Ndrangheta law.

“What does all this have to do with us?”

“I took money from Lorenzo Andretti, in exchange for keeping an eye on Carlo.”

A jolt of electricity arced through Enrico. “You work for Lorenzo Andretti?”

Rinaldo looked away. “You didn’t grow up in Calabria. You never wanted for anything.”

“But Lorenzo Andretti? How the fuck could you get involved with
him
?”

“Watch your language.” Rinaldo fixed him with a hard stare before answering. “Lorenzo was very generous. He poured billions of
lire
into my hands. All as long as I kept Carlo in line. I think he did not want a repeat of what happened with Remo.”

“The son he killed.” Enrico remembered Papà telling them how hard a man Carlo’s father was. Other children had the bogeyman; the children of the ’Ndrangheta heard tales of Lorenzo Andretti instead.

“There are those who admire Lorenzo.”

“He’s an animal.”

“Animal or not, he’s wealthy and powerful. Many men would want to be him.”

Enrico wanted to spit. “Men who’d be happy to crawl in the mud.”

“There are worse things.”

“That’s not what you said when I was a child.”

“I was wrong.”

Of everything that had happened, hearing those words from his father ranked among the worst. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I was foolish. I was arrogant. I got my family killed.”

“Carlo did that.”

Rinaldo shook his head. “It’s my fault. My fault.”

“I don’t understand.”

His father didn’t answer for a long time. “Carlo and I were business partners at first. I laundered his money and we embarked on many projects together. But when he wanted to bring in a shipment of cocaine to Milan, I said no. He told me I could get fucked. So I went to Lorenzo, who agreed to help me sabotage the shipment. But things didn’t go like I’d expected.”

“What happened?”

“Lorenzo was supposed to dispose of the drugs. Instead, he sold them to the Albanians. Somehow Carlo found out, and that’s when he came after me. When I asked Lorenzo for help, he turned on me. We had words over the drugs—Lorenzo
lied
to me, Rico—and he told me that if I wanted to do things my way, then I could—as long as I didn’t expect any help.”

Enrico sat back down in his chair, and his father followed suit. “And so you eventually kidnapped Dario.”

“The war with Carlo was draining us.” Rinaldo looked around ruefully. “I have always liked the best of everything. Too much.” He ran his hands through hair that hadn’t been graying two years ago. “When I had Dario, I thought Carlo would capitulate. I thought I could force him to negotiate.”

“You took Carlo’s boy. He should have given in. Any normal man would have.”

“He’s an Andretti. Like father, like son. Lorenzo killed one boy and sent away another. Carlo was willing to lose his son to my wrath instead of compromising. The Andrettis don’t love their own blood.”

But Toni wasn’t cold. She wasn’t that way at all. She was… different. Wasn’t she?

Even so… “And now you want me to marry that jackal’s daughter. How could you ever agree to this? Carlo killed our family. He broke ’Ndrangheta law.”

“So did I, when I took Dario.”

“But
you
didn’t kill him.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it. I opened the door for Carlo to retaliate.”

“
Merda
! Carlo has no honor, no respect. And he can’t be trusted. I will have no part of that family.”

“Rico, you have no choice.”

Vaffanculo
. He wanted to say it, but he held himself back, just barely. Instead he slammed a fist down on his father’s desk. He wanted to punch something, someone. But Carlo Andretti wasn’t there.

“It’s done. There’s no changing it,” his father said.

Enrico’s whole body itched with adrenaline. He needed some kind of release for it, so he bolted out of the chair and paced the length of the room, smacking his fist on the windowsills as he passed them. How could his father have done this? How could he have negotiated away any chance they might have had of crushing Carlo?

When he reached the end of the room, he inhaled deeply and counted to ten before exhaling. He had to get a grip. He had to
think
. There had to be some way out of this. What had his father missed?

“Can Don Battista help?” Enrico asked. Aside from being Enrico’s godfather, Don Vittorio Battista was his father’s best friend.

Rinaldo shook his head. “He’s embroiled in his own fight right now with the Camorra. Besides, we don’t have the right to vendetta anymore. If we fight, we lose everything.”

An icy wash poured down Enrico’s spine.
That can’t be true. It can’t
. “What do you mean, we don’t have the right?”

“The only help Lorenzo was willing to give me was to mediate the
faida
—imagine it, Lorenzo Andretti, the great peacemaker!” Rinaldo’s voice was bitter.

“Mediate?”

Rinaldo shook his head. “A war has been raging in Calabria among the
capi
. Between those who support the old codes and those who think they’re passé. Many men have been killed, and profits for San Luca are down.” All the clans tithed to San Luca, the birthplace of the ’Ndrangheta and home to the most powerful families, from whom the majority of the
cosche
had sprung. “Lorenzo and some other
capi
had the idea of forming a commission of sorts to resolve our disputes and end the bloodshed.”

“How does it work?”

“The family heads convene and decide on a remedy for the dispute. Once the two sides agree, if one of them breaks the agreement, they face severe penalties, including persecution by the rest of the clans.”

“What happens if we break the betrothal?”

“We lose half our holdings to Carlo. If we shed blood, we lose our lives.”

Enrico felt sick. He’d never get out of the marriage to Antonella; he’d never see his son again—at least not on any regular basis. And he’d never get justice for his family. Unless… “Is there a contract?” When Rinaldo nodded, Enrico held out his hand and said, “May I see it?”

Rinaldo rummaged through the top drawer of his desk, then produced a document. Enrico scanned it, seeing his name and Antonella’s, the terms of the betrothal, the terms of breaking it, and then a sentence that somewhat eased the turmoil in his gut. Some might call it hairsplitting; some might call it clever. But no one would argue that it wasn’t bold. And many would applaud him for that boldness alone.

Though it still meant the loss of his son, a loss he wasn’t prepared for. How would he bear not seeing Nico? How would he bear not getting to see his boy grow up? His throat clamped shut and he turned away from his father, hiding the tears that pricked at his eyes.

He took a deep breath. At least there was a way to achieve some kind of justice for his family. As long as Enrico married Antonella, he should be in the clear.

But that didn’t mean Carlo would see it the same way. They needed leverage over him, something Carlo couldn’t ignore. Antonella had said Carlo had been drained too, so he was probably still vulnerable. There had to be a way to hamstring him.

He’d give up his son, he’d marry Carlo’s daughter, but he’d never let Carlo win.

He turned back and handed the contract to his father. “Papà, is there anything you can think of that might give us an advantage over Carlo?”

“I told you, we can’t—”

“We’re not going to fight him. Just hobble him.”

Rinaldo thought for a moment. “There might be a possibility. Giacomo Parini is friends with Romano Marchesi, a banker who’s under Carlo’s thumb. The man came to me for help, but I turned him away.”

“Can you contact him? We need to know everything we can about Carlo’s dealings. I’m sure he’s taken some chances.”

Rinaldo met his eyes. “The leopard does not change his spots.”

“But we must.” Enrico would have preferred to charge ahead, to come at Carlo straight on. But in this case, stealth was called for. Stealth, patience, and cunning.

Enrico spent the next morning with Dom, first scoping out where the killers lived, and then drawing up a plan for the order in which Enrico could go after them. Geographically, two of the targets lived close by each other, so logically, those would be the two Enrico would go after on the second day of their plan. Decision made, they spent several hours at a local gun range until Enrico was satisfied that he’d regained his excellent marksmanship.

Conducting the surveillance was the next step. Dom took the two men who lived close by each other; Enrico took the others. They’d need at least two weeks’ worth of observation before drawing any conclusions.

Finished with the first part of his preparations, Enrico decided to swing by his old school and pick up Toni when she got out.

He arrived shortly after the students started pouring through the doors. Scanning the crowd, he searched for her face. When he found her, what he saw shot his blood pressure skyward. Four boys were standing around her, occasionally snatching at her clothes or hair. She clutched a book to her chest and tried to barrel past them, but they managed to block her way each time she attempted to escape. Enrico wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but he doubted they were giving her compliments.