Chapter 33 #3
“Good work. Any of the Camorra show up?”
“Yes. The don and consigliere, but they left just as angry and confused as they arrived. We used the parabolic listening devices and the translation app to know what they were saying. They suspect the Mala del Brenta and Cosa Nostra.”
“All right. Thank you. Get to the airport and get down here fast.”
“Sí, capitán.”
My cousins listened to the conversation, so they’re up to speed on what’s happening in Naples. We slip out of our parking spots and head to the airport. While we’re on the road, I call the ’Ndrangheta don, knowing he’ll be extra pissed to learn we were so nearby, and they had no clue.
“Chi diavolo è questo?” Who the fuck is this?
Pablo whispers the translation.
“Don Pasquale, this is Alejandro Diaz. We met indirectly this evening.”
The man switches to English for my benefit, and I can tell he’s unimpressed when he answers.
“What does the Cartel want now? What do you mean we met indirectly? I’ve been at my office all night.”
“Until you arrived at the marina.”
“You?”
“Me. Hold on a moment while I add someone to the call.”
“Don’t tell me to hold on. What the fuck do you want?”
I ignore him as I make it a three-way call with the Camorra don, Gennaro Ricciardi.
“Gentlemen, you’ve both witnessed the consequences of being uncooperative. Would you like to reconsider how you return our generosity?”
“Figlio di puttana.” Motherfucker.
“Pezzo di merda.” Piece of shit.
I’m uncertain who calls me what, but I don’t care.
“The Mala del Brenta took my offer, and I expect the Cosa Nostra to do the same. It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship with them.
You, on the other hand, are not making good choices.
Tonight was a taste of what I’ll do if you drag your feet again.
Take the money and the trade routes, be more cooperative the first time I tell you to, or I’ll keep blowing up warehouses.
I’ll move on to factories, and I’ll shut down your imports and exports.
You will lose far more than you stand to gain.
When you do, it’ll strengthen the Mala del Brenta and Cosa Nostra.
They will sweep in and sweep you out. This agreement not only brings peace but also prosperity. ”
I give my speech, then fall silent. I’m certain they’re texting each other like teens hiding their phones in class. They want no one knowing they’re consulting each other. I feel like playing the music from Jeopardy.
While they’re hemming and hawing, we arrive at the airport. We’ll have a while to wait before the jet arrives with the guys from Naples. Once the calls end, we’ll all catch a nap. I just need this shored up before I can rest.
“Fine, Diaz. You have a deal.”
It’s Gennaro who relents first.
“You can expect your first installment tomorrow morning.”
“Installment? Wait—”
“You think I’m giving you that much money and access without a sign of good faith on your part? How have you lived this long?”
Pasquale intervenes before this deteriorates, and I go ham on their asses. We have time to blow up more shit down here while we wait for our men to arrive.
“We’ll accept what you send and look forward to doing business with you. We’ll keep our end of the agreement and not contest the boundaries between our territories and the Mala del Brenta and Cosa Nostra. We’ll cooperate the next time you make us an offer we can’t refuse. Thank you, Alejandro.”
I didn’t expect the ’Ndrangheta to be the reasonable ones, but I’m happy it only took them losing about six million each in property damage and lost goods.
I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.
I’ve barely hung up with the two leaders when my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello.”
“Signore Diaz, this is Don Alberto Toretta. You’ve had a busy night.”
“I have, but you already knew I would. Have you spoken to Piero?”
“Yes, and Salvatore. Save yourself the trip. We’ll agree.”
My brow furrows as I look at my cousins. That’s way too easy.
“Are you accepting because Piero made a sound argument, because Salvatore’s insisting, because you don’t want your properties blown up, or because my girlfriend is best friends with your granddaughter?”
“Yes. All of the above, Signore Diaz. It wouldn’t be good for business or my family to refuse.”
He attempts to muffle a hacking cough. It’s one of a man who doesn’t just have a cold or the flu.
It’s a man who smoked way too much in his life.
His voice is reedy compared to what I’ve heard on phone taps and recordings.
I suspect his nephew, Francesco, will be don before the end of the year.
I almost feel badly for Sylvia and Serafina.
Sylvia will lose her father, and Serafina her grandfather.
I don’t, but almost.
“Tying up loose ends?”
There’s a pause before the older man answers. “You could say that.”
“Should Vittoria call you or go for a visit with Serafina?”
I learned during our dinner with Serafina and Carmine that Vittoria used to go to Sicily on vacation with Serafina, Serafina’s parents and sister, so she knows Alberto.
She was as close to the older man as she could be without being family.
She’d been fond of him as a child, so I won’t deny her the chance to say her goodbyes.
“Not yet, but soon…Thank you.”
He tacks on his gratitude at the end, and I barely hear him. This time, it isn’t because his voice’s weak. He just doesn’t want to admit his appreciation.
“The first installment will be available tomorrow.”
“And you won’t interfere any further as long as Vittoria is safe. Capisce.” You understand.
“Capisco.” I understand.
I guess I do know some Italian that isn’t profanity. I’ve heard Salvatore bark the word to his nephews many times, and I’ve heard their response.
I’m happy to stay out of all of the European Italians’ business for the rest of my life, but that won’t stop me from being a meddlesome fuck for the Italian Americans. Salvatore isn’t off the hook for life just because he helped negotiate this truce among his family.
Alberto says his goodbyes just as I do, and the call ends. By the time we’re done, the jet’s landing. It’s only a thirty- or forty-minute flight from Naples to Reggio Calabria.
“Primos, vamos a casa a ver a nuestras mamás.” Cousins, let’s go home and see our mamas.
God only knows what our women have blown up by now.