Viper

108

ROS Quartiere Generale (Anti-Camorra Unit), Napoli The fog lifted enough for Lorenzo to get the chopper in from San Sebastiano. The GIS man was dead. Giacomo's shot had hit him full in the back of the head.

Jack had been luckier. He picked rock out of his knee and was pleased it wasn't any worse than if he'd come off his mountain bike on a Tuscan trail.

They loaded their prisoner first. Then their dead colleague.

Finally, they helped Jack into the helicopter. Sat him with his back against the wall. Sal was at his feet. Flat out. Alongside the man he'd killed.

A GIS officer knelt and prepared to patch up Sal's wounds. Blue stuck his face in the middle of the action. 'You motherfucking cunt. I hope you bleed to death before we reach the hospital.' The Camorrista twisted a smile back at him.

The soldier's hands ripped off his blood-drenched shirt and trousers. Jabbed a hypo of morphine into the meat of his leg.

The GIS medic looked over to Jack. 'Three body wounds. Nice shooting, soldier.' Jack looked down. Giacomo had been hit in the stomach as well as the wrist and hip. The gut wound was pumping blood. Too much blood for him to make it.

He leaned over and took the dying man's head in his hand, turned it towards him. 'Why – why did you kill them all?'

The Snake's memory disgorged itself. A thousand images flooded out. His childhood. His first fight. His first suit. His first victim.

'Why?' pushed Jack.

Sal was slipping away. He could hear the music – 'scusa me, but you see – he could see the men Fredo had asked him to kill – the women Gina had asked him to kill – he could see the fires he'd lit – when you dance down the street, with a cloud at your feet.

'Perche?' Jack dragged him back. 'Why?'

Giacomo's eyes rolled. Blood filled his throat. He coughed as he spoke. 'Affari e piacere. Business and pleasure.' That was the only explanation he gave.

Jack felt Sal's head go heavy. Dead heavy. He was gone.

He removed his hand and let the killer's skull thump to the metal floor of the helicopter.