58. Ariana
58
ARIANA
I’m drained after all the talking and digging into the past. My emotions are raw, and my head spins. Dominic’s point of view on our whole operation and it being a Mission Impossible is shaking my foundations. All those weeks in Franco’s dungeon, I was haunted with why and how things went as wrong as they did, but I buried these thoughts. I refuse to believe there are crooked cops in the DIA, least of all in my team, but with the way things went south with my mission, it’s a possibility.
I’m going through the motions of exiting the plane and through passport control on autopilot, not really paying attention as I should. All I wanted was to come back to Italy, and now, I feel like a stranger on home soil. If I can’t go back to the DIA, even if Dominic would release me, who am I? My whole life was built around this one goal, and now, a swift chain of events has robbed me of everything I lived for. My team was the one thing that kept me going.
Dominic has me by the elbow, guiding me through the small terminal building. His hold isn’t threatening, but the message is clear: don’t even think about it. Earlier, as we taxied to our parking bay, he’d gone into the bedroom and changed. He’s now wearing jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt he’s borrowed from one of the bodyguards. My blond hair is shoved under a dark blue NY cap and with sunglasses—and a pair for me he took with a smile from the air hostess, promising to get her a replacement—we’re as ‘disguised’ as we’re going to be. I look down so you’ll see as little of me as possible.
It isn’t dark outside, as the promise of another day is seeping in on the horizon, but it’s early. Once we’re outside the terminal building, we get into the back of an SUV with dark tinted side and rear windows. One of the bodyguards gets in the front of the vehicle with us. I’ve lost track of the other one. As we drive off, I realize we’re in a convoy as we’re in the middle of two vehicles shielding us. It’s all so smooth and I have no clue how Dominic arranged this so quickly, but it’s clear he had all the contacts in place.
I don’t bother checking if I can open my passenger door. There’s no chance for escape.
“The car in the front needs to know Antonio Mancuso’s address,” Dominic asks as we head out.
“Tell them to go to Vena di Maida, and then towards Cortale. From there, I’ll have to direct them.” I haven’t been down here in twelve years, and hopefully, I’ll be able to find the place without problems.
It’s quiet in the car as Dominic is busy on his phone, passing on my instructions.
“It’s at least a thirty minutes’ drive, and by the time we arrive it will be light,” Dominic says as he plots the route on his phone’s map. “You’re okay?”
“Yes.” But I’m not. The familiar landscape flitting past pulls at my gut. “I don’t know if I want to see him.”
“Who? Antonio Mancuso?”
I bite down hard on my bottom lip to get some control over my emotions. “Yes. I spent seven years in his house. He never touched me, but he isn’t a good man.”
“No need to explain, sweetheart.” Dominic rests his hand on my thigh. “I’ll deal with him alone.”
“Thank you.”
Fields of golden wheat glow up in the first sun rays, intercepted with the odd empty field already harvested. Untamed swatches of forest are cordoned off by rows of old olive trees. This is home, but I’ve never been at peace here. I close my eyes and rest my head back, weirdly exhausted. It’s the jet lag, the lack of sleep over the past days, and being emotionally wrung out.
When Dominic’s phone pings softly and he follows it up with a curse, I glance at him.
“Benedict’s come back to me with info. Let me check my email.”
I sink deeper into my seat, bracing myself. If he finds they’re dead… No. I won’t start doom-thinking. As he swipes open his email, I try to glimpse what he’s looking at, but I can’t see.
“Put up the conversation screen,” he says to the driver, and we have to wait excruciating long seconds for the screen to close. “I knew it. Lorenzo Ricci, Manolo Diconti, and Alesso Romano, all dead.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Ariana. Your team’s been wiped out.”
My heart breaks as prickles of cold fear and despair spread on my skin and I start to shiver. “No-no-no. It isn’t true.”
These were my close colleagues, the men I would have given my life for. What if they gave their lives for me?
“Benedict has added the screenshots of the DIA internal website. See for yourself.”
I take his phone from him with trembling fingers. He’s already opened the attachments. I swipe through all three of them, finding it hard to breathe as reality stares me in the face. The screenshots are from the real internal DIA portal. There’s no way Benedict could have conjured it up in so little time.
“They are all marked as deceased,” I whimper. “They’re all really dead.”
There’s even a screenshot from my own agent page. I’m missing, presumed dead, but looking at the dates as I swipe between the screenshots, my team was eliminated within two days, Lorenzo last…on the day Franco came for me.
My hand goes limp as I drop the phone to my lap. It rings, and Dominic takes it from me.
“Benedict,” he answers. “Yep. I got your email. Yes. All killed around nine days after Randazzo’s death. Yep. Let me put you on speaker for Ariana to listen in.”
“I’m sorry, Ariana,” Benedict says as Dominic puts him on speaker. “There must be a link with Randazzo’s death, but for that, we’ll need time and more resources.”
Nine days after Randazzo got killed…just days after I went undercover. Oh my God?—
“What about Pietro Garlini?” I ask, suppressing a sob. There was no screenshot, and it gives me hope. I can’t stomach that, too. Not the only dad amongst a group of singles.
“Last man standing,” Benedict says. “Unscathed. For now.”
Dominic’s gaze meets mine, and he hitches a brow. “I’d ask some hard questions if I were you, sweetheart. My guess is he is your bad apple. I’ll bet you a million dollars he’s working for the ’Ndrangheta or Cosa Nostra’s highest players. And the buck doesn’t stop with him in the DIA. There’ll be players higher up.”
I don’t want to believe it. “But how? Why?”
“Money, sweetheart. Everybody has their price.”
Seconds tick past as I just sit there, unable to compute this new reality. I’ve never imagined this would be my life, that the work I’ve been doing for years can be null and voided within minutes by simple police corruption. And we were getting so close…
“You should lie low,” Benedict says. “If Pietro Garlini was in cahoots with Franco Fiore, entering Italy with that passport could flag you on their system.”
“Benedict’s right, but it’s too late now. We had no choice but to land and enter the country,” Dominic says. “We’re one step ahead, though, and can plan to ambush him.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not keeping up with him and Benedict, still reeling with my new reality.
“Ariana, in this game, you kill them, or they kill you. Until Pietro Garlini has your body, and your status changes on their system, you’re a threat to him and his cronies. I bet he is desperately trying to hunt down Franco Fiore, to be reassured that their sick little plan worked out exactly as they envisioned it.” Dominic’s voice has gone deep, his eyes dark. “We’re the only ones who know Franco is dead. Do we still have Franco’s phone on hand, Ben?”
“Sure do. Want me to see what’s going on in there?”
“See if there are any messages to someone you can pinpoint as Pietro Garlini.”
“Sure thing. What else?” Benedict says as he stifles a yawn. “I need some shut eye.”
“What are the chances you can arrange for missing, presumed dead on Ariana’s file to be changed to just deceased on the DIA’s systems?”
Benedict chuckles, but it’s dry. “Everybody has their price, bro. How much money do you have?”
“I don’t care. Don’t do it yet, but I’ll spend what you need to get it done. Get a quote, and line up your resources.”
“Right.” For a second, Benedict hesitates. “What aren’t you telling me, Nicky? Did you get those DNA tests back?”
Dominic sighs as he shoots me a glance. “Yeah, about that…now isn’t a good time, but I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”
“Killing people with suspense now, are you?” Benedict says with a chuckle. “Have you filled Matteo in?”
Dominic huffs into the phone. “No.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll read between the lines there…good thinking. Let the poor man fuck his wife for a little longer in oblivious bliss.”
“Language, little brother, language.” Dominic mouths a sorry in my direction. “You’re still on speaker.”
“Oh, fuck. Sorry, Ariana,” Benedict says, smirk in his voice. “Better get used to it. It’s a big party we’re throwing here, in true Scalera style. I’ll check with my contact and let you know.”
“Thanks,” Dominic says and kills the call.
“What does he mean with a big party?” I ask, my head spinning, trying to keep up.
Dominic shoots me a sly smile. “Just a bit of a bash to properly welcome you to the family, sweetheart.”