Chapter 42 Fon #3
Hiding his true nature from Rafaella was hard at the best of times but he feared that if he walked through the door tonight, she would instinctively know.
He knew she suspected something was wrong – he didn’t desire her the way he ought to; he could too readily accept that she loved another man.
He needed her not for sex but safety. Their marriage was his badge of respectability.
With her in his house, in his bed, he could be seen as normal – because there was one person, more than any other, from whom he had to hide himself.
Dante pulled on his cigarette, regarding him through slitted eyes. It was the look he gave to business associates about whom he hadn’t yet made up his mind. ‘Is that so?’
‘… Is it a problem?’ Gabriella lived in the same block as Dante’s own side piece, Renata, though he had been more absorbed with Bruno Collura’s wife lately. His appetites were legendary and seemingly insatiable.
‘I spoke with Rafa today. I went over to find you, but she says you’ve barely been home in weeks.’
‘Oh.’ Fon shrugged. ‘I guess I have been here more than usual lately …’
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think? I keep Gabi for a reason and it’s not conversation.’ He went for dismissive disdain, but Dante wasn’t buying it.
‘You’ve been distracted lately. Off the mark. Forgetful. Not to mention no one can keep tabs on where you are.’
Fon threw his arms out. ‘Well, I’m not hiding.’
‘Your wife thinks differently.’
‘Dante, what’s the issue?’ Fon sighed. ‘As far as Rafa’s concerned, I’m on the road – and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’
Dante’s eyes dragged over him and Fon felt a wave of fear that his brother could see what Fede had seen; as if Fede’s attention had left marks on his skin like lipstick kisses. ‘You need to get rid of her.’
‘Who? Raf—?’
‘Gabriella. She’s distracting you from your marriage. Get rid of her!’
Fon blinked, seeing his brother was deadly serious. ‘… OK,’ he said quietly. ‘If that’s what you want, I’ll get rid of her. It doesn’t matter either way to me.’
‘Good. And then go home and start paying some goddamn attention to your wife.’
Fon stared at him, feeling a trickle of fear creep through his bones. ‘Dante, where’s this coming from?’
‘If you don’t want people to start talking about you, you’ll do as I say. You’ve been married three years with nothing to show for it. I want her knocked up within the month, you hear?’
Fon nodded. He knew the Giannelli reputation came before everything. They needed heirs. His brother’s impatience with the issue had been building for months – but why had it suddenly cracked now?
He took his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lit one too, drawing hard for a moment before exhaling a plume of smoke. It always made him look more confident than he felt.
‘Why did you come to see me earlier, anyway?’ he asked, trying to change the subject altogether.
‘Francesco is back from Rome.’
Fon coughed on the smoke. ‘… Already? I thought he wasn’t due back for another few days.’
‘Yeah, well, if you’d been around you would have known he came back early. Our contact came good on the warrant for Franchetti’s office … It’s clean.’
Fon frowned. ‘And the apartments too? They’re sure?’
‘The diary’s not in his new or his old place. He went back twice, once when Franchetti was sleeping. Checked his suits.’
‘So do you think the wife has it after all?’
Dante shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t entrust it to her.
She loathes him now. She’d happily throw him to the wolves if she could, and that diary would do it for her.
’ He looked thoughtful. ‘No, Franchetti told us he kept all his books and papers in the divorce. He’s no fool.
That diary’s his insurance policy. If it’s not on him – and we know now it’s not – then he’s put it somewhere safe. ’
‘Fede’s apartment is probably worth another look.’
‘Francesco was thorough. It’s not there.
’ Dante pushed himself up to standing from the car bonnet.
‘It’s time to up the ante. We’ve had his son for weeks now and he’s not handed it over – he thinks we won’t do anything.
He thinks he knows us, that we’re just Carlo Giannelli’s sons. We can’t play in the big league.’
Fon stared at his brother, a chill spreading through his heart. ‘So what are you thinking?’
‘We show him otherwise. If he won’t play ball, we’ll have to force his hand.’
Fon knew what that meant. ‘We said we weren’t going to do that. Straightforward kidnap and ransom, you said. Nothing more. No bloodshed.’
‘He’s calling our bluff, Fon. Are you going to let that stand? He’s happy to let his son rot because he doesn’t think we mean business?’
Fon could only stare at him.
‘We’ve been patient long enough. I’m a reasonable man, but I will not be disrespected. I’m going to send Francesco over tomorrow to pay Fede a visit—’
‘No!’ The word burst from him before he could stop it.
Dante looked at him in surprise. ‘No?’
‘… I mean, let me do it.’
‘You?’ Dante scoffed. ‘As I recall, you’re a lot less handy with a knife than him. You couldn’t even stick it to someone half dead.’
It was the accusation Fon had never been allowed to shake off. Even now, all these years later. ‘He was a kid!’
‘Yeah,’ Dante muttered. ‘And he was suffering. You let him suffer rather than put him out of his misery.’
Could murder ever be mercy? Fon swallowed, staring down at the ground.
‘Dante, look, I’ve never pretended to be capable like that.
I know what I can and can’t do – and what I can do is read people and work them over.
I talked to Fede today when I took him his food.
I think I can get him to talk to me. He still thinks we’re holding him for money.
If I tell him it’s the diary we want … that we’ll let him walk if he gives it up … ’
‘It’s a lot quicker to send Francesco in and let him do what he does best with a scalpel and a box-cutter.’
‘I agree – but let’s keep that as back-up,’ Fon said quickly. ‘Nothing’s off the table, but we don’t want to play our hand too early. Fede’s a lawyer. He’s a rational man with a logical mind. I think I can persuade him without things escalating.’
‘What do you care about escalation?’ Dante scowled, looking at him closely. ‘… He doesn’t know you’re you, right?’
‘Of course not!’
‘You’ve kept the hood on him? At all times?’
‘Obviously.’
‘But if you’ve been talking with him—’
‘He never knew me well enough to identify me by my voice alone. I don’t think he’d even remember my name! He was always your friend, not mine.’
His brother looked unconvinced.
‘We need to keep our heads on this,’ Fon said, keeping his voice steady.
He couldn’t afford a misstep here. ‘Maiming a Franchetti – much less killing one – is hazardous. They’re too high profile and we can’t risk that kind of scrutiny.
If I can get him to give us the whereabouts of the diary without spilling any blood, then so much the better for us all. ’
He could see Dante was considering it and he felt the desperation surge in him, like sap rising.
‘Please. Just let me try tomorrow. If I can’t make any headway, you can send in Francesco with his toolkit.’
Dante nodded. ‘… Fine. You can have one run at him. One. But make sure you put the frighteners on him so he sees it’s in his own best interests to talk.’
‘I will. I’ll do that. I’ll get through to him.’
‘Call me tomorrow when it’s done.’ Dante flicked his cigarette to the kerb and turned towards the building, his jacket slung over one shoulder as he headed for Renata’s apartment. ‘And in the meantime, go home and fuck your wife.’