Chapter 113
Adriano
Florence
As I raced along the edge of the Piazza, my stomach turned.
Half of them were cops.
Others were just ordinary people who’d been in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time.
Not all of them were dead. Bystanders were trying to help the survivors.
But as soon as people looked up and saw me and my guys running past with our rifles, they screamed their heads off.
We ignored them and followed the distant sound of gunfire.
Along the Via Pellicceria, dozens of arches formed an enclosed walkway. Onofrio, Nazario, and I raced down the hall, using the columns of the arches as cover.
At the end of the walkway were a bunch of kiosks that sold to tourists.
Tchotchkes and stuffed animals were scattered across the cobblestones…
And in the middle of them, an old man who’d been shot in the chest, his blank eyes staring up at the ceiling.
The Camorra had obviously been through here –
And I could hear their automatic gunfire. It was loud, so it had to be nearby.
brATTA-TATTA-TAT –
brATTA-TATTA-TAT –
As I reached the intersection with Via Porta Rossa, I heard footsteps running towards us.
I swung my gun over, finger on the trigger –
“Don’t shoot!” Massimo roared.
He was followed by five of my Florence foot soldiers. He must’ve met them along the way.
“Let’s go!” I yelled as I led the way down the Via Porta Rossa.
The streets were empty except for the occasional body. Everybody else had fled.
Two hundred feet away, at the corner of Via Porta Rossa and Via Por Santa Maria, was the Mercato Nuovo – the New Market.
I think it was 500 years old – but that passed for ‘new’ in the old part of Florence.
It was an open-air market made of columns and arches, filled with displays of cheap leather bags and belts that the merchants pawned off on tourists.
Two Camorra thugs crouched behind the arches, engaged in a shootout with a lone cop.
They looked like the guy Giorgio had caught: big, ugly fuckers in jeans and black leather jackets.
The poor cop (never thought I’d say that) was pinned down on the opposite street corner. He was behind a stone column that was slowly getting whittled away by hundreds of the Cammora’s bullets. He couldn’t even move because of the constant barrage.
brATTA-TATTA-TATTA-TAT!
The Camorra were focused on the cop.
They weren’t looking our way at all –
And they were completely exposed.
“Take the one on the right,” I hissed at Massimo.
I put my gun into single-shot mode –
Stepped into a shooter’s stance like Lars had drilled into me –
Sighted over the barrel –
Breathed out –
BANG!
My guy’s head sprayed red against the column.
Massimo wasn’t quite as good a shot. He only got his guy in the shoulder.
The Camorra thug screamed in pain and flailed backwards into a display, sending pocketbooks and jackets flying.
“GO, GO, GO!” I yelled at my guys as I tore off down the street.
The cop looked out from behind the column –
“DON’T SHOOT, DON’T SHOOT!” I screamed at him.
The cop watched in amazement as we ran towards the New Market.
I paused at the dead Camorra gunman slumped against the column, then headed into the maze of kiosks and leather goods.
I switched my rifle to three-burst mode.
Probably wouldn’t get to aim as precisely next time.
Bags, belts, and jackets hung everywhere like a tan rain forest. The smell of leather hung thick in the air.
The Camorra asshole was staggering through the displays, knocking over everything in his path, and firing blindly back into the kiosks.
brATTA-TATTA-TATTA-TAT!
The bullets were mostly getting stopped by all the shit between us – but just to be careful, I stayed in a low squat as I moved –
Until I heard a loud CLICK.
He was out.
I raced out into the street –
And saw him crouched behind a column, reloading clumsily. His bloody left arm was basically useless.
I aimed –
BANG-BANG-BANG!
And his chest sprayed red as he flailed backwards onto the pavement.
But there were more gunshots in the distance.
As I ran past the thug, I put a single round in his head to make sure he wouldn’t get up again –
BANG!
And ran down Via Por Santa Maria as fast as I could.