Viper

25

Centro citta, Napoli The black Mercedes S280 slid silently through the streets. Its heavily glazed windows stifled the snarls of city traffic.

Bruno Valsi rode in the back, Sal the Snake beside him, Tonino Farina up front and Dino Pennestri behind the wheel. Farina and Pennestri were both made men in their late twenties. Trusted members of the Finelli Family who'd been delighted to become the first members of Valsi's own crew. In the mind of the new Capo Zona there was nothing that Farina couldn't extort with his brutal fists, and no wheelman that Pennestri couldn't better.

But Valsi's mind wasn't on them. As they drove to his first business meeting of the new week, he was preoccupied with the growing tension between himself and the Don. Having Sal the Snake as a shadow was bad enough, but being denied the right to recruit Alberto Donatello and Romano Ivetta was much worse. It was disrespectful. And then there was the old man's less than coded warning about making sure his fat daughter wore a permanent smile on her face. Prison had taught Valsi to be patient, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could bite his tongue and swallow his pride.

'This is it, boss,' said Pennestri, pulling up outside one of Italy's biggest call girl agencies. The driver stayed put as Farina peeled out of the passenger door. He opened a rear door, his eyes scanning the street before Valsi eased himself out and put on his black suit jacket.

The building in front of them was made of crumbling unpainted stone. It was five storeys high, each storey boasting a row of windows that opened inwards behind rusty iron shutters.

The stairs stank of dog piss. The lighting was so dim they couldn't see their feet. The Finelli Family owned the entire block, spending little on appearances while maximizing the money they milked from sex lines and escort bookings.

Valsi had stayed up all night, studying the operation's payment books. The manager, Celia Brabantia, was on the take. The accounts showed an unusually steady flow of income. There were no ups and downs. No surges during times when the hotels were filled with conventions, exhibitions and tourists. No falls during the bleak winter months. Valsi figured that Celia passed on what she thought was a reasonable whack and then had the nerve to keep the rest for herself. Mussa! Now he'd teach her a lesson. One she'd never forget. The thought pleased him. Excited him. Violence was his drug. It didn't matter whether it was a man or woman who was suffering, just providing he got his fix.

Farina didn't so much open the office door on the top floor as bang it off its hinges. Half a dozen bored and bedraggled women slumped over silent phones jumped in their seats.

'Where's your boss?' hissed Sal.

The girls looked terrified. They all guessed who their visitors were and understood this wasn't a social call.

A Czech woman with short blonde hair and a long nose that spoiled an otherwise pretty face slid out of her seat. 'I'm Kristen. Celia's in the office at the back. Shall I get her for you?'

'We'll get her ourselves.' Sal pushed past her. Farina followed.

Valsi smiled. Sal had no style. No flair. 'You have to excuse him – Mondays are not his good days,' he said as he drew level with her. 'In fact, he doesn't have any good days.'

Kristen smiled back. He had a nice mouth. Good body too. 'Shall I get you some drinks?'

Valsi shook his head. 'Not now. But I'll get you one, when I'm done here.'

Kristen tried not to look too interested. 'I'm working late, and I'm not sure my boss will give me time off.'

Valsi laughed. 'By the time I've finished with your so-called boss, believe me, you'll be able to take the whole damned week off.' He turned away, cracked his knuckles and headed to the office.