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I looked up at Giulio and raised one eyebrow meaningfully. “Nino Buscetta.”
“Nino fucking Buscetta,” he repeated. “Let’s go and kill that motherfucker.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alessio
Passo di Rigano, Palermo, Sicily
From the shadows on the rooftop, I watched the Alfa Romeo dealership across the street. Nino Buscetta used the place as a front for his underboss activities, and I was gathering information on him.
I peeled an orange and ate it slowly. Giulio and I arrived in Palermo yesterday, and I insisted he stay hidden during the day. The Cosa Nostra were thick in these parts, and the Buscettas would certainly recognize him. It was too much of a risk.
On the yacht, we learned that Nino’s father, Calogero, was the capofamiglia of his clan. Don Gero, as he was called, was hardly seen in public and his whereabouts were murky. He left most of the day-to-day business to Nino, a hot-headed coke fiend. With as much coke as I’d seen Nino snort in the last thirty-six hours, no wonder the Buscettas wanted a slice of Fausto Ravazzani’s drug trade. Nino probably wanted a bulk discount.
It was believed that Nino was running things these days. Don Gero was in his mid-eighties and most capos that old were just figure heads. The mafia required strong leaders who were constantly putting pressure on those under them.
There was a younger brother, Giacomo, but he was more of an enforcer. A thug in a suit, not the brains. Giulio and I agreed that Nino would’ve been the one to order the hit four years ago.
My fingers rubbed the smooth cornicello around my neck absently as I chewed on the orange. From what I saw so far, Nino was well guarded and paranoid. He was rarely alone and escorted everywhere in public. The dealership’s windows were made of bulletproof glass, and the guards surrounding his estate reminded me of a military base. It wasn’t impossible to kill him—hardly anyone was impossible for me—but it would be difficult.
Giulio preferred to kill Nino himself. He wanted the Sicilian to see his face, to know that Giulio had evaded the assassination attempts to enact his revenge for Paolo’s death.
I didn’t like it. Using my rifle from long range was safer, easier. We could be in and out of Sicily in hours. But Giulio made me promise. He was adamant about doing this, so how could I refuse?
So I focused on Nino, finding out his routine. Looking for the best opportunity to kill him without risk and without being seen. I had to ensure Giulio’s safety. This couldn’t be traced back to him, and he had to get out of Sicily in one piece.
Nino was on the phone, laughing, his two men reclined in chairs in front of his desk. A woman walked toward the dealership, her body cloaked in a long dark coat. Strange, as it was hot today. Wearing heels more like spikes than shoes, she walked through the front door. A salesman approached and she smiled at him. They talked for a few minutes, then he led her toward Nino’s office.
When she entered, Nino froze for half a beat. The men in chairs stood politely, but Nino did not. Instead, he ended his phone call and gestured for the men to leave. Then he was alone with the woman.
She opened her coat. With her back to me, I couldn’t see what she wore underneath, but I could guess. Nino’s smile turned wolfish and he beckoned her forward. She crawled under his desk and disappeared, just her fingers visible as she unzipped his pants.
He looked around and must have realized the blinds were open. Holding up a remote, he pushed a button and the slats closed, blocking my view.
I finished my orange as I waited. Nino’s wife had dark hair. This woman was a blonde. She and Nino were clearly familiar with one another, though the salesman hadn’t recognized her. I knew what this meant.
This was the comare—the mistress.
I waited. Thirty minutes later, she left the dealership. Nino’s blinds opened again and he was back behind his desk, on the phone. I was no longer interested in him at the moment, though.
Instead, I followed her.
I hurried from the rooftop to the street, where I found my motorbike waiting. In seconds I caught up with her. She walked another block and unlocked a fancy red sedan. A gift from Nino’s dealership, no doubt.
When she drove off I kept close. She never checked her rear view mirror, never glanced over her shoulder. She had nothing to fear. No worries that she was a target. As Nino’s woman, she was untouchable.
Finally, she turned down a side street and parked in front of a small villa. I couldn’t risk getting too close, so I stayed at the top of the street and watched as she locked her car and went into the home.
Now that I knew where she lived, this would be easy.
Most mafioso had mistresses, and they often visited them without heavy protection. It would be far easier to get to Nino here than at the dealership or at his home. And I suspected thirty minutes had only whetted Nino’s appetite for this woman and he would return tonight for more.
I checked the time. Almost midday, when the entire country would shut down for riposo. I started the motorbike and headed off for our apartment.
When I opened the door I found Giulio prowling the tiny space like a caged lion. “I don’t like this,” he said as soon as I walked in. “I am doing nothing!”
I set down my things and tried not to smile. “You did this for years,” I reminded him. “Vaping and cooking and exercising in your tiny apartments. You can do it for a few more days.”
