Chapter 23 Fon #2
‘– and then they’ll need people they can trust on their side. Just as Lobascio is discovering that he could lose everything – his house, his livestock … He needs to see that if he’s not with us, then he’s against us.’
Fon’s chest felt tight at the thought of Rafaella’s father being threatened. Of Rafaella somehow getting caught up in Dante’s ruthless ambition.
A sound, the snap of twigs just off in the trees, made them look up and they saw a figure creep forward and freeze.
It was a young boy, no more than eleven.
Fon saw him pale as he took in the scene in the clearing – a dozen dead cattle, a river of blood coagulating on the dried earth, the toolbag, the olive carts … them.
For a moment, their eyes all locked in an energetic hold – the understanding was instinctive, even to a child – and then the boy broke away, turning and fleeing back through the trees.
Dante didn’t stir, but Pablo and Francesco were on his tail, breaking into an immediate chase.
The remaining cattle scattered, spooked now and trampling over the corpses of the slain beasts, but Fon saw that the labourers had already wound thick rope around the trees, containing them in a temporary pen.
They gathered in a tight huddle while the men ran after the intruder.
Fon found himself holding his breath, willing the boy to make it away from here, praying that youth would outpace old cunning … Desperate shouts told him otherwise and several moments later Pablo and Francesco reappeared, dragging him over, the child frantically wrestling in their grip.
‘Help! Help me!’ he yelled, even though they were deep into private land with no one else around.
‘It’s Lobascio’s boy, Mattias,’ Pablo panted, struggling to hold him still.
‘Obviously came looking for the herd,’ Francesco added.
‘Let me go!’ Mattias cried.
‘I thought you said no one saw you coming up here,’ Dante said, displeased.
‘No one did. But they’re animals,’ Francesco shrugged. ‘They shit anywhere. There’s going to be a trail of sorts, if you look for it … And he’s come looking for it.’
‘Let me go! My father’s going to kill you!
He’ll kill you! Fucking Giannellis!’ the boy yelled, wriggling again and kicking out his legs so that he propelled himself off the ground momentarily.
He was skinny but strong. Pablo lost his hold long enough for him to lunge, but Francesco still had a good grip on him, and they fell heavily to the ground together.
Pablo drew the knife from his pocket and pressed its bloodied blade against the boy’s neck. ‘Enough,’ he said menacingly, towering over the child’s sprawled body.
In an instant, Mattias was still and quiet.
Dante stared at him as Francesco hauled him back to his feet.
Everyone was silent for a few long moments.
Fon could hear the frenetic drumbeat of his own heart, blood rushing in torrents through his head as he tried to think, to find a path out from this on which everything could still be all right.
‘This is a problem,’ Dante murmured.
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ Fon said quickly, looking at his brother intently.
Smuggling cigarettes was all well and good; cattle raiding, arson, intimidation, even selling women …
He didn’t like it, but if this was what diversification looked like, he could …
he could live with it. But to even think about killing a witness – a child!
His brother’s ambitions didn’t extend to murder.
Did they?
Dante turned to look at him. ‘How do you propose we move on from this?’
‘The boy’s got a mouth on him and a bad attitude,’ Francesco argued. ‘If we let him go, he’ll never stay quiet. The carabinieri have been sniffing around since the fire as it is.’
‘My contacts there are suppressing the investigation,’ Dante said calmly, still watching Fon.
‘You have sway over the carabinieri too?’ Fon asked. Bribing the harbourmaster was one thing, but the police …?
‘Some. It’s growing, but slowly. I prefer the velvet glove to the iron fist … So, Fon, tell me – what do you propose we do with this problem?’
Fon felt the weight of all their stares, watching, assessing him for his reaction. He took a few steps towards the boy. ‘Can we trust you?’ he asked the cowherd, staring into his eyes and reaching for his soul, willing him to cooperate. Did this child understand the danger he was in?
Seemingly. The boy nodded frantically.
‘And you won’t tell a soul what you’ve seen here today?’
He shook his head. ‘No one.’
‘You swear? Swear it on your mother’s life.’
‘I swear!’
Fon looked back at Dante. ‘I believe him.’
Dante gave a sigh as he smiled. ‘… And that’s your problem, brother.’
He glanced back at Pablo and gave a small nod. Before Fon could even react, the older man had plunged the knife between the boy’s ribs. His head dropped back and his legs went from under him, but Pablo and Francesco held him up.
‘No!’ Fon screamed, running forward, but Dante caught him and held him back. Fon fought against him, trying to get past, but he would never match his brother’s strength. ‘He’s a child! A child!’
Dante held Fon firmly as he flailed, watching the blood seep through the boy’s shirt.
‘No, he’s a liability. He’s a witness. He’s an informant.
He would endanger everything we’re building here,’ Dante said quietly, his voice against Fon’s ear.
‘And you need to understand that it’s not just about trust. It’s about respect …
He can’t get away with disrespecting us like that. ’
Fon pulled back and stared at his brother with wild eyes, his chest heaving. ‘You stabbed him because he disrespected us?’ he cried. He felt like he was going to collapse. His body, his mind, couldn’t support this.
‘It’s a shame it had to come to this, but he left us no choice. I don’t like it any more than you, but this is the way of the world, Fon. Fear breeds respect – obedience, compliance. His father will fall into line now, you will see.’
A sob escaped Fon as he looked over at the boy. He was making strange sounds.
‘His lungs are filling with blood,’ Dante said quietly. ‘He’s suffering.’
‘We need to get him to a doctor!’ Fon begged. ‘Please, Dante, please! We can still make this right.’
‘It’s too late for that now. He’s beyond saving.’ Dante shook his head, pity in his eyes as he reached for the knife in his own back pocket and held it out on his palm. ‘But he doesn’t need to suffer, Fon. Are you man enough to show him mercy?’
Fon stepped back, horrified at the suggestion. He couldn’t speak. His heart was like a battering ram, trying to break his ribs.
‘Put him out of his suffering, Fon.’
‘No! No!’
‘You said you wanted in.’
‘But not to this! Never! … Dante, no! … Why me?’ He looked over to Pablo and Francesco, both of whom returned blank stares. They would not save him from this, any more than they would save the boy.
‘Because I need to know if you can.’ Dante rested a hand upon his shoulder and Fon felt himself shrink several inches beneath the weight of it.
His failure at El Ciolo had been graver than he had feared.
A moment of fright had revealed the yellow blood coursing in his veins.
Cosimo had seen it – it was why he had pitied him – and now everyone knew exactly what he was and had always been. A coward.
More than that – it was no longer enough to want to be in, nor was it enough to be Dante’s brother or Uncle Teo’s nephew. He had to prove himself once and for all. Dante’s grip tightened on his shoulder as he eyeballed him intently.
‘He’s dying already. This is the only way you can help him,’ Dante whispered. ‘Give him mercy.’
Slowly Fon met his gaze, feeling himself sucked into the vortex as Dante placed the knife in his hand.
‘Show me you’ve got what it takes, brother.’