Chapter 140
Giorgio
Inside The Hospital
Lars, Dario, and I raced up the stairwell.
We passed several dead Camorra –
Then my stomach twisted with horror when we reached the third-floor landing.
Three bodies in black suits lay on the floor.
I knew them: Amerigo, Dino, and Arnald.
For a second, I felt like I was back on San Michele, staring down at Lorenzo dying in the gravel –
And then I heard hurried footsteps in the corridor.
Lars knelt down, peered around the edge of the doorway, and fired.
BLAM BLAM!
With no thought for his own safety, Dario stood tall above Lars and fired into the hallway, too –
BLAM BLAM!
Instinctively, I squatted halfway between Dario’s full stance and Lars on one knee, aimed into the corridor, and fired.
The stairwell echoed with the deafening roar of our combined gunfire.
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!
In the hallway, four Camorra bastards returned fire with their automatic weapons –
But each went down under the hail of our bullets.
A hundred feet behind them, two men and a woman rushed into another stairwell –
But the door stayed open, and I heard laughter, manic and unhinged.
“I DID THIS TO YOU, DARIO ROSOLINI!” a man’s voice screamed out at us. “ME – CESARE CAPRONI!”
Then the door slammed shut, and the laughter died away.
“Stay behind me,” Lars hissed into the hallway –
But Dario sprinted past him in a panic.
“Goddamn it,” Lars muttered, then raced after our boss.
I followed quickly behind him, my gun aimed down the hall in case the stairwell opened up again.
It didn’t.
Dario raced halfway down the hall and into a room.
Lars and I followed.
Everywhere I looked, it was a slaughterhouse.
Blood smeared across the linoleum –
A pile of slaughtered Camorra jamming up the doors of an elevator –
And then Lars and I reached a room with dead Cosa Nostra and Camorra alike.
I recognized them all: Ario, Davide, Gaetano, Erasto –
But I had no time to grieve, because I heard Dario cry out in horror from the other room.
Lars and I rushed in to see a dead doctor in a corner –
And Dario bent over Alessandra’s body on the floor.
She had been brutally beaten. The grotesque angle of her left arm suggested it was broken, and her face was a swollen mass of cuts.
But that wasn’t the most frightening thing.
It was the pool of clear liquid, slightly pinked with blood, that crept from the hem of her wet dress across the linoleum floor.
“MY BABY!” she screamed in anguish. “DARIO, MY BABY!”