Viper

62

Bar Luca, Napoli Bar Luca had recently become Bruno Valsi's home from home. In the past few years the Camorra had steadily increased its stake in the business – 10, 25, 40 per cent – and it hadn't taken Bruno long to push it to 51. The two young owners, Giorgio and Marco, were smart enough to realize that 49 per cent of one of the city's hottest night spots was better than a shallow grave somewhere.

Valsi sat in their office, feet up on their desk, watching a bank of surveillance monitors that followed the action in the bar and pole-dancing areas. Sitting opposite him were his new trusted lieutenants, Romano Ivetta and Alberto Donatello. There was no longer any point hiding them.

Romano couldn't ever have been named anything other than Romano. His long broken nose, strong dark eyes and gladiatorial size made him look like he'd come straight from Hollywood casting. Donatello was totally different. Small and wiry with a shaven head, permanent five o'clock shadow and hollow cheekbones, he resembled an undernourished prisoner of war.

'The way I see it,' said Valsi, his eyes still watching the dancers on the screens, 'we face aggression on two fronts – the Cicerone and my own Family. The big question is…' he cued a finger at Donatello, 'do we wait for them to come for us? Or do we take them by surprise?'

'We take them by surprise,' answered the little man.

'Correct.' Valsi took his feet off the desk and peered at the monitor. One girl was upside down now. The pole gripped by one serpent-like leg curled around the shiny steel, the other spread out like the blade of opened scissors. 'Is it me, or is that the most fuckable woman in all of Italy?'

Ivetta and Donatello laughed.

The Capo grabbed the phone and hit an internal speed dial. 'Giorgio, it's Bruno. The girl on pole two, she has the face of a sainted angel. She looks like she was sent from heaven just for me to fuck. Tell her to stay behind when she's finished. And make sure I don't have any trouble getting what I want.' He dropped the phone back on its cradle. 'So, we move first. You both agree?'

'Absolutely. No question,' said Ivetta, 'but who first? Which one do you want us to tackle?'

'Good question. And I've been thinking about it. My father-in-law is planning to kill me. I'm certain of that. And I'm fairly sure that he's already told Salvatore to take care of it.'

'Sal the Snake?' checked Donatello, waggling his hand like a sidewinder.

'Si.'

'Pheeeew!' whistled Ivetta. 'That's some tough motherfucker -'

'Well, who the fuck do you think he would send?' interrupted Valsi. 'Mary Poppins?'

The three of them laughed, then Valsi added, 'But the Don will not order the hit until he is sure he has everyone's support. It is his style to want the guaglioni to know that the hit was necessary because of my dealings with the Cicerone crew. He'll want it to look like I had put the whole Family in danger.'

Ivetta and Donatello could see where the conversation was leading. 'So, we hit the Cicerone boys first,' said Ivetta. 'We hurt them bad, and then we kill Don Fredo.'

Valsi waved a headmasterly finger at them. 'Too fast. You're going too quickly. We wipe out the Cicerone leadership. Then, we pause a little. We let the Finelli diehards see our strength. If we are vicious enough, then the ambitious ones among them will weed out the weak.'

'Brilliant,' said Donatello. 'The young bucks will kill the old guard for us.'

Valsi winked at him. 'Now you're learning. What we need, though, is a plan to hit at the heart of the Cicerone. It may be bloody. How many men, good men, can you put on the streets?'

'If the price is right?' Ivetta held his hands open.

'Of course.'

'However many we need. One, two dozen – maybe more.'

'Wait,' said Valsi, a thin smile bisecting his handsome face. 'I have an idea that may require fewer men. In fact, only one man and one very beautiful woman.' He turned to the club monitors. 'One with the face of a sainted angel.'