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“I’ll get Arabo!” Roberto shouted, taking off.
“Nenella!” Franco spotted Violetta’s best friend among the women fleeing in nightgowns. He raced to her side. “Where’s Violetta?”
“The Baron put her in the convent!” Nenella cried, teary. “She was so upset!”
“Which one? Santa Caterina?”
“Yes!”
Franco’s blood boiled. “Where’s the Baron?”
“Bagheria!”
Franco expected as much. “Is Arabo in the stable?”
“Yes, but the butcher’s coming in the morning!”
“Get everyone out! I don’t want anybody hurt! Tell them to go home and say nothing! I’ll make sure they get paid! Now, go!”
Nenella ran off as Roberto rode toward him, ponying Arabo.
“Franco, I got him! I’ll take him out front, then meet you inside! The stable is empty.”
“Bravo, Roberto! I’m going inside the palazzo!” Franco motioned to Sebastiano and Ezio, who were lighting torches wrapped with oil-soaked rags. “Men, my torch!”
“Here!” Sebastiano handed him a flaming torch, and Franco took off toward the main entrance. Roberto’s men were already invading the house with torches, entering every doorway.
“Start at the top!” Franco shouted to them, clattered through the arched entrance, and spurred his horse to climb the staircase. Sebastiano and Ezio caught up with him and continued to the third floor, but Franco got off on the second, according to his plan of attack.
Franco rode through the beautiful enfiladed salons and set fire to each one, burning the drapes, the cushioned chairs, the tables, and the rugs. The fire burst into red, orange, and gold flames, heating the air and sending tendrils of smoke upward. He reached the pagoda room and set fire to the silk on the walls, shattered the glass display cabinets, and knocked over the table with the carved ivory and perfume bottles.
He tore ahead to the dining room and cantered around the magnificent table, running the flaming torch along the painted friezes, setting fire to the knights, princes, and make-believe battles. He torched the rug, and the dining room grew hotter. He cantered out and set fire to another set of enfiladed rooms, leaving a flaming wake.
He reached the stairwell. Heat seared the air. Smoke and particulate filled his nostrils. His horse tossed his head in fear, and Franco knewit was time to go. He clambered down the stairs, joined by Sebastiano and Ezio. They rode out of the palazzo and into the courtyard.
Franco, Roberto, and their men watched the palazzo burn. Fire raged from the windows. Glass exploded in the heat. The conflagration rumbled like thunder. Orange flames flew into the air and gray smoke billowed into the darkness.
Franco was filled with fury and joy. Priceless antiques were being destroyed, well-appointed rooms reduced to rubble. The costs would be astronomical, rebuilding financially onerous. The Baron would never be able to buy the Moravio parcel now.
Franco reveled in the conflagration, inflaming the dark side of his soul. It was the point of no return. Only hours earlier, he had wanted to copy this man and this house, but no longer. He would be his own man now, better than before.
Franco looked over to see orange flames flickering on Roberto’s sweaty face.
Franco knew they looked identical, like an infernal mirror.
This was only the beginning, for them both.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Gaetano had time before the Beati Paoli meeting, so he squeezed in interviews with three more families and eliminated them. Thepasseggiatawas winding down in the Capo district, but stragglers socialized in animated groups. He walked as quickly as possible, head down, since he was near his house.
Gaetano turned onto his street, spotted a group of people, and recognized his downstairs neighbor Alberto. It wouldn’t do to run into him because they were friends and Alberto’s wife, Egidia, probably knew about their marital problems.
Gaetano kept going, head still down, as the group began to dissipate. He got closer, but sensed something amiss. Their conversation sounded like nervous chatter, not happy socializing. There came a wail, and he realized Egidia was weeping.
Gaetano hustled to them. “Alberto? What’s the matter?”
Alberto turned, with Egidia sobbing in his arms. “Gaetano! It’s Maria! She fell. We got the doctor.”
