Lorenzo had hunted Fish for two years. From Roma to Istanbul he’d searched for the bastard and always came up short. News returned that Fish frequented this spot the past few days dropping more lire than the average farmer in these parts. A tip from one of Carlo’s puttanas proved to be the final lead.
Excitement over victory boiled the blood in his veins. He felt the temperature spike under his wool coat. He wiped his gloved hand down his face. This was the bastard that stuck a bomb under his car and tore the only woman he’d come close to loving in years away from him. He was bound and determined to get his revenge. The coward murdered Giovanni’s princess and took part of his cousin’s humanity with her. Petie ‘the fish’ Lupo had ruined all their lives.
He and Carlo started through the bar. A few dancers paused in observance. A few men drew back watching them closely. Topless women on raised mirrored platforms in spiked heels rolled their hips and fondled their nipples for leering patrons. The dim lighting, reddish in color against the black walls, was an excellent shadow for their arrival. They would have to strike and move on. The club was owned by the Bonaduce’s and they were no friends of the Battaglia’s.
Fish sat close enough to the spotlight to be seen. In Lorenzo’s haste he bumped a dancer who squealed with delight and tried to entice him by pulling on his coat sleeve. Her dramatic flair gave away his presence. Fish spotted him and was up and running. Lorenzo and Carlo began to turn over tables and knock naked women and their customers out of the way in pursuit. Fish hit the back door of the club and raced into the alley.
Cristo! I should have had Carlo covering the back!
They followed.
The family was barely keeping it together thanks to the weight of this never-ending war. Bologna, once neutral territory for Calderone and Battaglia, had now become the forbidden zone. Angelo took refuge under the protection of the Bonaduce’s in a secluded village that was always heavily armed. Don Francesco Bonaduce was extremely upset over the unrepentant way in which Giovanni had taken his thirst for vengeance out on all of northern Italy in pursuit of Angelo. Especially the unsanctioned murder of the now deceased Don Calderone and his son Giuseppe. Codes were broken and alliances soured. The families fought to hold on to their turf.
Without Flavio to consult, Don Giovanni Battaglia, led with an iron fist and a heart of stone. If he suspected another family aided Angelo in any way, he took extreme measures to make examples of them. The Polizia di Stato always remained one step behind, and the code of silence among these men prevented Giovanni’s name from being fingered as the cause of the mayhem. His gun dealing and trafficking with the Irish and subsequent trade in Sicily and some countries in Africa made any effort by other families to resist futile. Lorenzo once thirsted for this unyielding power and ruthlessness, but even he could no longer hold his head up without shame. They’d done some really brutal shit to those who were innocent and those who were guilty, all in the name of revenge. It had to end. Finding and killing the Fish and Angelo Calderone may finally bring his cousin back, the man of compassion who wanted to legitimize the family. It was his only hope, and tonight he had the future within his grasp.
****
“Have I told you I love you?” she whispered. “Ti amo. My beautiful, strong man, I love you so much.”