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“Blyad! Are you fucking serious? Do you know how dangerous—?”
“Sasha,” I barked. “I know all this and we’re handling it. What I need right now is related to the Sicilians out to kill Giulio.”
She sounded petulant, like a small child. “I’m working on it.”
“I have something that may help. Nikolai’s security man ran facial recognition software on the CCTV footage of the car bombing in Bruges—”
“So you are cheating on me with one of Nikolai’s men.”
“And,” I continued, “we have some names I want you to reference against what you’ve found.”
She sighed and I could hear her fingers working over her keyboard. “Here’s what I know. There are three main Cosa Nostra cosche active in Sicily. The Cannavaro in Enna, Zambrotta in Catania, and Buscetta in Palermo. Buscetta is the largest and most powerful family, but the others are equally involved in criminal enterprises all over. I could not find ties to Ravazzani for any of these, though.”
“You wouldn’t,” Giulio said, his eyebrows pinched as he stared hard at the photos. “My father is too smart for that. But he has dealt with Buscetta over the years. The last time was four years ago, that I know of. There was an alliance, so I think they are the least likely.”
“What of the others?” I asked him.
“It’s been a long time, but from what I remember Cannavaro’s in jail. His wife is running things, with his help from prison. Zambrotta I don’t know.”
“Zambrotta died sixteen months ago,” Sasha filled in. “His two sons took over, but they’ve lost most of their holdings to Buscetta.”
“We should call your father,” I suggested to Giulio. “And ask his opinion.”
“No.” His eyes were bright and hard, like chips of diamond. “He gets involved and this becomes a war. And I told you, he thinks it has to do with another don who died around the same time.”
“Ah. Because Fausto was responsible.”
He didn’t answer, but his look said it all. Fausto had killed this other don. “It makes sense. But why the Sicilians? Why not this don’s own family?”
“His sons are incompetent junkies. Or at least they were four years ago.”
“Maybe the Sicilians came after you in retaliation against your father for this don. The timing is suspicious.”
“Why would the Sicilians care about Mommo’s death? It didn’t involve them.” He flipped the photos over and looked at the names. I could see him considering it. “Sasha, I’m going to read out some names. Look for a connection between them and a man from Piedmont, Girolamo Condello. He went by Mommo. He’s dead, but maybe he had ties to one of these families.”
Giulio gave her the names that resulted from the facial recognition software.
We heard her typing and snapping gum. When she was thinking hard, she always chewed cherry bubble gum. I usually gave her some for Christmas, along with her bonus.
“Did you say Condello?”
“Yes, why?”
“I was researching the Buscetta sons, Nino and Giacomo. Nino, the older one and the underboss, is married to Maria Umberto. Her first cousin, Rina, is the widow of a man named Condello in Peidmont.”
“Was her given name Marina?”
“Yes.”
“Minchia!”
“So this dead don, his wife was a cousin to Nino Buscetta’s wife?”
“Sì.” Giulio rubbed his eyes. “Mommo had a lot of wives. Still, how did no one know this before now?”
Sasha’s voice came out of the phone. “Rina’s last name wasn’t Umberto. Her mother is the sister of Maria's father.”
Ah, that explained the different surnames.
