I could cut myself, force them to take me to a hospital? No, they’d just patch me up and keep me here.
What can I do…
Then I remember the lascivious look my main captor gave me before leaving. Maybe I can use that. While the thought of attempting to seduce my kidnapper disgusts me, if I can get him to lower his guard, I just might have a chance to escape. I’ll need a weapon though. I don’t want to kill him—I’m not a murderer—but I can’t really see a way of doing this without threatening to hurt him in some way. No guns, though. Never guns. Just something sharp, something I can press against his throat and threaten him with. If I have to cut him so he’ll take me seriously, I will.
I look around the room, trying to figure out what I can use…
The door opens and someone slides a tray into the room. Before I can say anything, or see who it is, the door closes.
I stare at the food angrily. I can’t believe my captors think I’m hungry at a time like this. Of course they don’t understand, they’re gangsters, with no sense of right or wrong, no sense of guilt. Besides, they’re the captors, not the prisoner, so they have no idea what it’s like. Maybe someday that will change and the tables will turn. We’ll see how much they like being captives in my father’s house.
My eyes drift from the steaming plate of pasta to the cut of veal, then to the utensils. A knife and fork. As I gaze upon the former, I can’t help the wide grin that stretches my lips.
Looks like I found my weapon…
5
Massimo
I’m seated in the chateau’s media room. There are two L-shaped sectionals crafted out of quilted white leather. I’ve taken one sectional for myself, while Luciano has the other—we like our space. To my right, a series of floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view of the backyard, where the evenly spaced shrubs only partially screen the beach beyond. The view isn’t as great as my bedroom, but I’m not here for the scenery.
This room serves as our home theater and teleconferencing center. A reflective screen is erected against the far wall, with a short-throw projector resting on the coffee table in front of it. The floor-to-ceiling windows have blackout curtains of course, but we’ve left them pulled wide open as the projector generates enough lumens to light the screen brighter than a television set.
The display is partitioned into three areas, and within each the face of one of my brothers peers back. Judging from the backgrounds, Stefano and Roberto are in rooms at their own villas, while Enrico is in his car.
“I think we should kill her,” Enrico is saying. “After the ransom is paid. So what if she hasn’t seen your faces? She’s seen the chateau, and that’s enough to compromise us.”
Luciano shakes his head. “The villas all look the same in Ustica. She won’t be able to pick out ours.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Enrico insists. “The very fact she knows she’s on Ustica is bad news for us. You should’ve kept the bag on her head at all times.”
I shrug. “It’s a big island.”
Enrico frowns. “Not so big.”
“But big enough,” Stefano interjects.
Enrico sighs. “You’re positive no one spotted you leaving the mainland with her? Or arriving here?”
After kidnapping Angela, we switched cars in Palermo and drove a hundred miles outside the city to one of the coastal villas we own on the mainland. Not only is the front fenced off from the neighbors, but so is the beach, and the property is equipped with its own private dock.
“No one saw,” I say. “We weren’t followed, and the sea outside our private dock was empty. The beach on Ustica didn’t have a soul on it, either. Stefano did well securing the mainland villa and the island drop point.”
Stefano nods. “I put my best men on the mainland… told them to make sure any boats and pleasure craft steered clear of our property. I handled the island cove myself.”
“Any news on the Amato reaction yet?” I ask.
“There is,” Stefano replies. “Apparently, Giovanni Amato thought the Rizzos took her, which is a bit odd, considering she’s slated to marry The Cleaver in a month. The Rizzos would have no reason to take her.”
“So what did Giovanni do?” I press.
“Took his family right up to the gates of the Rizzo estate,” Stefano says. “Almost had a shootout right then and there, not believing the Rizzo claims of innocence. Things got pretty heated. For some reason, Giovanni thought it was a good idea to bring along the family Rottweilers, and The Cleaver ended up shooting one of them in front of Giovanni. He wasn’t very happy to say the least, and cancelled the wedding right there, swearing The Cleaver would never marry her.”
For some reason, that news makes me very happy.
Luciano scratches his chin. “Interesting, we can use that… the Rizzos and Amatos will compete to outbid one another.”
“Maybe,” Stefano agrees.
