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“Perhaps we should call a meeting of the Council,” Dario suggested.
The Council was the name given to meetings of representatives from all the families of the Cosa Nostra.
Such meetings were usually only called to smooth over disputes…
Or to try to end a war between families.
“The only problem with that is we have no proof,” Niccolo said. “There’s absolutely nothing connecting our uncle to this entire mess except for Bianca’s one brief glimpse of Aurelio. I personally believe Fausto’s fingerprints are all over this… but none of what I’ve said would stand up to scrutiny if we had to take it in front of the Council. Even worse, if the Council decides against us, then Fausto gets off scot-free. He can bide his time and figure out another way to destroy us – and we can’t do anything about it without incurring the wrath of every single family in the Cosa Nostra.”
A shadow passed over Bianca’s face. “When Mezzasalma was driving me out of Florence, he said that we were going to see friends of his in the Tuscan countryside. Does that mean anything?”
Niccolo sighed like he’d just heard awful news. “Fausto has an estate in Tuscany about 45 minutes from here. The spot where you flipped the car? That road is a straight shot to his house.”
The entire room descended into depressed silence –
Until Adriano broke it.
“We should move against Fausto tonight,” he snarled.
Niccolo shook his head. “And how is that going to look to the Council? ‘We knew we had no proof, but we decided to kill our uncle and cousin anyways because we suspected them.’”
“Aurelio was with the Agrellas – we know that! And the road led to Fausto’s estate – you just said so yourself!”
“A glimpse through a doorway and driving along a country road are not proof,” Niccolo snapped. “It’s circumstantial evidence at best, and flimsy at that. Certainly not sufficient for us to put out a hit on our own family.
“If we did, the Council would say we’re savages. We would become pariahs. Every single family in the Cosa Nostra would band against us to wipe us out.
“That’s why Fausto is doing all this from the shadows. Don’t you see? He can’t have everyone realize he’s the kind of monster who would kill his own family just for money and power. It would disgust and infuriate the Council – it would be an infamia. At best, Fausto would be ostracized and cut off completely. At worst, it would bring down the Cosa Nostra’s collective wrath on his head.
“No, he had to do it all through puppets like the Turk and Mezzasalma so he could cover his tracks. And he’s been very, very clever at doing so.” Niccolo paused and got a thoughtful look on his face. “Like a chess grandmaster, planning it all out beforehand… an unseen hand manipulating the pieces on the board…”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” I asked in frustration. “Just sit back and take it? Wait for Fausto to try to kill us again?”
“No,” Niccolo said. “No, we need to secure allies. We have to go to the Five Families and present our case. If we win them to our side, then nothing Fausto can do will matter. And if he tries anything again, the Five Families will help us instead of shutting us out.”
“But they won’t talk to us,” Roberto pointed out. “None of the families’ consiglieres will even return your phone calls.”
Dario spoke up. “Which is why we need to go them in person.”
Except for Niccolo, who nodded in approval, the entire room stared at Dario in shock.
Adriano was the first to speak. “You want us to go to our most powerful rivals, all of whom want to kill us… and try to persuade them not to?”
“Not you,” Dario replied. “You just got married, and you still have broken ribs that need mending.”
“Plus, we need you to secure Florence,” Niccolo said. “We’ve calmed down most of the police and politicians – we’ve shown them we’re reasserting control after the disaster with Mezzasalma and the Agrellas – but we have to make sure that we keep the peace from here on out. Any more chaos and the city could slip out of our control. You’re capo of Florence, so that’s what you need to concentrate on in the coming weeks.”
I glanced over at Adriano. “Not to mention that you’re not exactly the most diplomatic guy in the family.”
“Fuck you,” Adriano shot back.
I grinned. “See?”
He realized he’d proven my point and shook his head in exasperation.
“If we’re sending ambassadors, then who’s going where?” Roberto asked.
“Sicily’s the thorniest situation,” Dario replied. “The old servant woman who killed Papa and tried to shoot me came from there. And Mezzasalma was from the south of Sicily. We definitely have a Sicilian problem.”
