AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She already knows? Where is the woman? In her wing? Can I have one too?”
“Tizziano...” My tone is enough to warn him that my patience is approaching its limit.
My brother sighs before once again straightening his previously relaxed posture and, as if he turns a key, a mask of seriousness covers his face.
“We didn't have any complications during your absence, Don.” His right hand closes into a fist before he brings it to the left side of his chest and pronounces his next words. “I served thefamiglia, I guarded our honor, I protected our secrets. Born in blood, killed in fire and reborn from the ashes. Only to the Sagrada will I bow.” I nod, accepting his words, and he lowers his hand.
“Good. Have we heard from the CIA?”
“No, Don. After Adam Scott's departure, no agent seems particularly interested in taking over his investigation. Ourcontacts carried out the necessary data cleaning, and the cargo that had been seized has already been returned to us. It arrived at its destination in Texas.” My eyebrows furrow as I process the information.
Where a Don's leadership matters is not much different from a king's reign. When the ring is passed on to the successor, the memory is guaranteed, but it only depends onhowthe legacy is cultivated over the years in charge.
Some will be known as peacemakers, others as bloodthirsty, others as balanced and, irremediably, there will also be those who will be known as weak or dishonorable. I decided a long time ago that I didn't care what anyone called me, only that, as long as Sagrada's ring was on my finger, no one would dare call her by any name other than the one it deserves: the most powerful organization in the world.
Adam Scott's family died because he had the audacity to call that into question, and that was not a message I was willing to allow to spread. He was an example, and I hope the other rats of his ilk are smart enough to understand that.
“Buono.[50]”
“Gianni can talk about this better than I can, but maybe we have a problem in Eritrea.[51]”
“I didn't go to Brazil to buy a country for you to tell me that we might have a problem with it, Tizziano.”
“The problem didn't exist before, Don,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs to rest one ankle on his knee.
“And I hope that the next piece of information I hear coming out of your mouth is how it will cease to exist. This operation was studied for months, Tizziano.”
“Massimo Coppeline.” The name is enough for me to understand what it is about.
“What did he do now?”
“He bought the only oil company on the continent that had the resources we need.”
“Can you explain to me how exactly Massimo Coppeline bought a company that should already be ours?” My tone and controlled expression would deceive strangers, but not my brother.
Tizziano shifts in his chair, uncomfortable, and it's good that he feels that way, because I want answers and I hope he has them.
“Our intelligence team indicates that Esteban Spanic sold information about the auction to him.”
“That auction is not the kind of table Massimo Coppeline would be invited to.”
“It is not. He wanted to know what we would buy, nothing more. We are still confirming the information, but, apparently, this was the only information that Spanic would have sold.”
I close my eyes for a brief second, for the first time regretting not having killed the Colombian myself.
They say that the worst enemies are those who were once allies, this is the case of Massimo Coppeline. For decades, the businessman was a faithful associate of Sagrada, operating within the limits of legality to facilitate or make our business viable. His association with La Santa began during my grandfather's leadership and lasted for most of the time my father wore the ring.
It was only with the death of the man's daughter years ago that the relationship that seemed rock solid collapsed. Massimo attributed the kidnapping and subsequent death of his daughter and the baby she was expecting to a conflict he had been having with my father and, since then, he has moved away from La Santa and has been causing as many problems as he can.
The man would already be a corpse, just as his daughter probably is, if it weren't for the debt of honor we owe him. Massimo saved my grandfather's life from an ambush many years ago, that day, a promise was made, and a man of honor never breaks it. This and the fact that he was an associate, but never a made man, are the only reasons why the businessman continues to breathe, despite the problems he has been causing. Until now, however, he had yet to do anything as audacious as this.
The debt of honor we owe to Massimo preserves his life, nothing more. I'm beginning to think that perhaps it's time to remind him that being alive, depending on the circumstances, can be a punishment far worse than death.
A hopeless female face suddenly appears in my mind. It is curious that among all the miserable lives that I have already tortured beyond the desire for death, it is precisely with the Brazilianbambinathat my mind decides to reinforce the thought.
My brain runs a marathon, going through all the agreements and contracts that have ever been made or envisaged based on what we planned to extract from Eritrea and the conclusion is obvious. Massimo Coppeline is definitely trying to cost me much more than his life is worth to me.
Sagrada's business has prospered more in the last twelve years since I took over as Don than it had in the previous fiftyyears. There are many factors involved in these numbers, but the main one is my complete intolerance for anyone who gets in my way.
