Viper

100

Casonia, Napoli A cop on a retainer was the first to ring Finelli Capo Giotto Fiorentino, and tell him of the Don's murder. Seconds later, Fiorentino rang Ambrogio Rotoletti, his friend of thirty years, and woke him at his mistress's apartment in Casonia. Ambro took his cellphone and walked out into the corridor in his string vest and baggy white underpants. He was crying by the time he rang the third Capo, Angelico d'Arezzo.

'Angelico, it's Ambro. Listen, the shit's started…' He never finished his sentence. He took two bullets in the stomach before he even saw the shooter. A third bit a hole out of his heart. Blood spurted through the gaps in the string vest. He sank to his knees, then slumped on to his side.

Vito Ambrossio picked up the phone. 'Don Fredo's dead. So is that fat fuck Rotoletti, and within the hour you will be too.' He tossed the phone away.

The other end of the line was already empty. Angelico d'Arezzo woke his wife. She sat dazed in the marital bed they'd shared for a quarter of a century. Angelico pulled cases from the top of the oak wardrobe his parents had bought them as a wedding present and hurriedly emptied drawers into them. Within ten minutes they'd be gone.

Angelico had a stash of cash in a small villa in Greece. They'd go there and stay there. Maybe forever. Certainly until it had all died down. He was too old for gang battles. Too wise to think this war was winnable.

Meanwhile, Vito Ambrossio stepped over the corpse in the corridor. One Capo Zona down. Two more to go. Centro citta, Napoli They breakfasted at Rocco's, the place the Don had been eating at since he was old enough to buy his own food. Just an espresso for Mazerelli. Steak for Valsi. The new head of the Family didn't leave a scrap. Both Rocco, the owner, and Myletti, the chef, visited the table to check everything had been all right. Valsi told them it was shit. Said he wasn't Finelli and warned them he wouldn't eat their crap again unless it improved. He picked up the check. Surprised he'd even been asked to pay. Unaware the Don had always settled in full, plus a generous tip. 'And do you know what, Rocco? To make sure your food gets better I'm going to invest in your business.' He peeled a twenty off a roll. 'This covers the shit you served and gets me fifty per cent of your business. My friend Ricardo will be round with the paperwork.'

Mazerelli couldn't look them in the eye. He'd sat in the restaurant a thousand times with Don Fredo. All the memories were now worthless. Blown away by a murderous bad-mannered oaf. 'Ciao,' he managed sadly, as the old doorbell clanged on the way out.

Though it was grey outside, verging on fog and rain again, Valsi slipped his shades on as they walked through the Piazza Nazionale and back to the Lexus. 'Now, take me to the Don's tailor. By the time I've been fitted for a new suit, the bloodshed will be over. Then you and I can talk of the future.' Capaccio Scalo, La Baia di Napoli Salvatore Giacomo sat frozen in his car, his cellphone on his lap. Giotto Fiorentino had just told him the Don was dead. The Cicerone clan was clearly on the rampage. Giotto had been in the process of adding that the Don's driver, Armando, was also dead, when the sound of a door breaking and automatic gunfire completed the story. He was dead as well.

Sal sat and figured things out. Valsi would be in the thick of it. Stirring up bad blood. Serving his own purposes.

He should have killed the young piece of shit, instead of Donatello. If only he'd trusted his instincts instead of doing as the Don had instructed him. But that's what Sal did. He followed orders. Always did as he was told. And now loyalty to the Family was going to get him killed.

Well, not if he could help it. Certainly not without taking some of the bastards down with him.

What about Gina? What about Enzo? Valsi wouldn't hurt his kid, not the boy. But he wasn't sure about Gina. He'd seen him with women, seen the violence, seen the brutality in his fists and in his heart.

The Don would want her protected. Keep an eye on her, Sal. Look after her like she was your own daughter. That's what the Don had asked him to do in the past. And he had done it. Best he could.

Now there was only one way to truly protect her. And it didn't involve running, or hiding. It involved what Sal did best.

Killing.