I obeyed, and my mother returned to my side, rubbing my back sympathetically with her hand.
“Va bene. Theputtanawill live,” conceded my grandfather. “Now we have to go, and you, ragazzo, will come with us.Andiamo.”
I swallowed the pain and shame, my heart heavy in my chest, and nodded.
“Take my SUV, it's armored. Let’s not take any risks,” I asked, feeling as cold bit at the soles of my feet. It was as if everything around me was getting darker, and something gigantic, monstrous, was looming. I looked at the faces of each person there, my heart racing as I realized that, despite my grandfather's harsh words, no one was blaming me. Instead, a mother was holding me with iron strength, sensing my imminent downfall, and a father made a tremendous effort not to cry while looking at me. There was no accusation in anyone, only love, anger, and a pain they seemed to be determined to lift from my chest. I sniffed and squeezed my eyes shut, letting a few more tears fall. “I'll take Valentina's BMW. It's fast. If things go south and we need to lose someone, I can buy you some time.”
“I... I've already contacted our pilot,figlio mio,” said my father, coming towards me. He cupped my face in his hands. “You know... You know that Papà will never stop loving you no matter what, don't you?” His voice broke. As soon as his face crumpled and tears rolled down his cheeks, I felt like the worst man on earth. I was the cause of my parents' sorrow. Me. No one else. “Even if she turns us in to the police, it won't change anything, sì?”
Nonno sighed.
“Your Papà is absolutely right,” he declared with a raspy voice, and I sobbed, unable to answer either of them. “No one is to blame for loving the wrong person.”
“Forgive me... all of you,” I begged, giving thanks for my mother's arms, which refused to let go of me.
"Papà and Nonno are right, Camillo. It's not your fault. You trusted thatmaledetta, and, look, if I’m honest with you, so did I," my brother declared, and I saw our cousin Lorenzo nodding in agreement.
“But we'll have time to talk about that later, ragazzi,” Zio Ricardo interjected. “We'd better hit the road as soon as possible and get back to our Italy.”
“Ricardo is right,” my father said to me. “But you're not going by yourself in that car, figlio. Don’t you agree,padre?”
NonnoPatrizio nodded.
“That's exactly what I was thinking. Lorenzo and Mario will go with Camillo. It'll be more effective if we need to shake someone off our tail. If nothing else, your fratelloand your cugino can blow some tires while you drive.”
“As you wish, Nonno. As you wish.” I gasped, clinging to what strength was left. “Let's go through the kitchen. There's a door that leads to the garage.”
Everyone dispersed, but when I tried to do the same, Mamusia and Papàheld me back for a moment.
“I'll repeat it: this doesn't change anything,figlio mio.”
“Grazie, Papà...” I cried and gave him a tight hug. “Grazie.”
“We're alive, that's all that matters, Camillo,” declared my mother with that Polish pragmatism of hers.
I turned to her and sighed.
“I'm afraid she's already called the police. Valentina knows things I never told her, and I have no idea how she got the information. She probably has something on us in the States.”
Mamusia smiled, accompanied by Papà, and pinched my nose just like she used to when I was a kid.
“I've seen a lot of people get out of jail, but not out of the grave. We're alive... That's all that matters, Camillo.”
Chapter 9
Camillo Vicari
August, 2015
30 years old
Jackson, Mississippi, USA
Ten years ago
“Yesterday, around two o’clock in the afternoon, an operation was carried out against members of the Italian criminal organization ‘Ndrangheta, linked to international drug and arms trafficking. The operation, which had been underway for over a year, took an unexpected turn after an alert was given by Assistant District Attorney Valentina Messina, who had been held hostage in her own home. Following this alert, local police and federal agents coordinated the chase of two suspicious vehicles through the streets of Jackson, Mississippi. During the pursuit, the occupants of one of the vehicles opened fire on the police, resulting in thedeath of two officers. The other vehicle lost control while being intercepted by a SWAT team and fell from the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Six bodies were pulled from the Pearl River a few hours later, pronounced dead at the scene. Authorities reported that the three occupants of the other vehicle surrendered shortly after..."
Cold sweat soaked my clothes. I shook my leg, the handcuffs cutting into my wrists. It was difficult to breathe or comprehend what was happening around me. The fluorescent lights of the police station turned the people walking around into shadowy, shapeless figures. Next to me, gut-wrenching sobs revealed I wasn't alone, but the sound was muffled by the pressure inside my skull.
