He sighed. “Yeah, baby. There’s a reason why that particular town was used.”
“That’s not where we went before, for Marzio’s funeral.”
“No, Marzio’s not from Corleone. That’s just where the meeting is being held. Rocco told me that the head arrives in an ambulance.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged. “An attempt to avoid an ambush or maybe a wiretap. Rocco knows, therefore, the second fear is founded.”
I leaned my head against the cool glass window, moving my forehead back and forth to relieve some of the pressure. I kept my eyes shut tight against the images suddenly blurring my vision. “But thesanguisugheare not really…the mob, are they?”
Brando shook his head. “Yes and no. They live and breathe—they exist—solely to take down the Faustis. The expressionthorn in your sideis an understatement of what they do. Their main goal is to take down the entire Fausti Empire. Somewhere along the line, one of ours double-crossed one of theirs, or so they claim, and the vendetta has never died. Italians forget everything but the grievance. It’s a small burning war that I doubt will ever go out entirely.”
“Do you know what started it?”
“Yeah. The Fausti family started their own thing, but they refused to allow outsiders to get close to the heart of the operation. Some of the toes felt they wanted to be closer, since they helped steady the body. Instead of helping circulation, like usual, they becamesanguisughe.Sucking healthy blood instead of pushing it along.Bada-bingbada-boom. There you have it.”
I ginned at hisbada-bing bada-boom. “That simple?”
“I doubt they’d claim it was that simple. They knew the operation the Faustis were building was going somewhere. They wanted a piece of the monstrous body—or as Rocco said, half of it.”
“Do thesanguisughecommit…widespread crime?”
Brando grinned at that. “They do. They are exactly what you’d expect them to be—and they act exactly how you’d expect them to, except their mission revolves around ruining the Fausti name so they can become what they are in the eyes of the world. To do whatever that takes, they do whatever it takes.”
“Good versus evil?”
Brando thought about this for a moment. “The Faustis have standards. They’re known for their integrity and honesty. But the game is still evil versus evil. It’s just that one evil wants revenge on the other—they want blood, so they can rule the body.”
“How bad are they? Thesanguisughe?”
“Bad enough, but not close to the Faustis. Doesn’t stop them from trying though. And if one of ours asks for their help?”
“Someone like Ciro,” I said.
He shrugged. “Could cause some internal issues, since we’re already at war from the outside.”
“Why?” I said again, almost to myself. I hit my head against the window. “Why even do it?”
“The meeting?”
“No, the entire thing.” I waved a hand. “Marzio was educated, had enough money to last him and his heirs until the end of time—why even continue along this path? It’s not something someone would aspire to be—Hey, Mamma, I think I want to be the Godfather when I grow up!I mean, I understand that modern culture has romanticized it some, but…”
“Reality and romance are far apart,” Brando said, finishing my thought. “The Mafia was born out of necessity, out of economic distress. The Faustis had been dirt poor, with a lot of mouths to feed, and at the time, I’m assuming, it was easier to take matters into their own hands and handle business accordingly.
“The Fausti vision was different from the rest, though that’s what has made the name stand apart and last all these years. Looking at it from a different standpoint, it’s impressive. Even if you chop down one branch, three more grow back stronger. Each son has four or five sons, each son is a leader of their own, and the rest branch off to form their own thing. And the lower you go in terms of rank and status, you’ll hit water instead of blood. Not many in the lower ranks are related to the Faustis. That area of the ‘business’ reflects the traditional version of the Italian Mafia. The Faustis want to have a tentacle—or paw, depending on who you talk to—in everything—to control all aspects. But no matter what, it all leads back to—”
“Lothario, before him, Ettore, before him, Luca, and before him, Marzio, and so forth.I reali d'Italia.”The royal family of Italy. “A name that has become synonymous with sovereigns and not just in Italy.”
“Simple but brilliant. A family tree.” Brando glanced in his rear view, eyes shimmering with a burst of headlight. “The Fausti who started this entire thing felt keeping the head of the operation in thefamigliawould breed more loyalty, but on the other hand, it caused more internal turmoil. The entire setup is so secretive that no one really knows what goes on behind the scenes. That’s why the quarterly meetings were put into place.
“The ‘family’ was set up close to a hierarchy, where the first born succeeded the father, unless another child challenged the ability of the older sibling to rule. In the old days, they would draw blood, but as the times progressed, they changed the rules. No backstabbing or murder. If you want to rule, you’re expected to prove your worth by being superior.”
“By being ruthless?”
“That’s part of it,” he said. “Only a small part of the battle is violence. The bigger part is war strategy.”
“If the current head is still living, but planning for their death—like Marzio—they get a say, right?”
