There’s a pause that’s gone on a shade too long when I realize that the room is waiting formeto speak, that Angelo is waiting for me to speak for him.
“Angelo carried out his Boss’s final orders,” I say loudly, making sure I look Rossi in the eyes. “When it became clear all was lost, Don Morelli told Angelo to leave and come to me, to make sure I was protected as his named heir. If any of you here doubt it, Don Morelli left a video of himself.”
“Then let’s see it,” Rossi demands hoarsely.
I pause. No way am I going to air Tino’s last minutes on earth to the room at large for Fuscone and Clemenza to gloat over.
“I’ll show it to Don Vicario, and him alone, because he isCapo dei Capi. I also know he was a great friend to the Family, and to Don Morelli.”
There is another silence after I finish. Maybe I’ve gone too far. Maybe I’ve shown disrespect to Rossi, one of the senior members of the Commission. I look down to the end of the table, to where Carmine Vicario is seated in the shadowy part of the room. He is ruminating, chin in his hand, eyes down towards the table.
He looks up at me, and I will my heart to slow down. One word from Vicario, and this pleasant meeting could turn into a bloodbath. He stands, and my heart only picks up speed.
Without a word, he crooks a finger at me, turns, and walks through a door set so flush in the wall behind him that I hadn’t recognized it as a door. In the small of my back, I feel the lightest pressure: Angelo, pushing me to go after him.
I do, but none of my men come with me. None of Vicario’s join him, either, and when it comes down to it, I have almost forty years on the old man. I can take him if I have to.
I think.
Chapter Six
Luca
When I get to the room, there’s no threat. Only the old Don, already seated in a large leather chair. The power radiates from him, filling up the small, windowless chamber. It’s padded all over the walls—soundproofed. Vicario gestures to me to take the other seat, and I do so, grateful my legs have held out this far.
We say nothing. After a moment, he raises an expectant eyebrow, and I realize what he wants. I fumble with my phone, cue up the video, and hand it over to him to watch.
I’ve only watched this video alone since the first time Angelo showed it to me. I didn’t want Finch to see it, and Finch has never asked. For all that he didn’t know Tino Morelli, the manwashis father, and no one needs to see their father like that.
But listening to Tino’s warm voice coming from my phone as Don Vicario watches his old friend’s last words, I don’t feel the same stab of sorrow I usually do. I feel at peace, like Tino’s last words have become a benediction for me.
Luciano, you made the right choice today, and I thank you for it. I’m glad that my last night on this earth was spent with you and Finch and Connie last night. All of you, truly, are myFamiglia. And now, I pass my family into your care. I am sending Connie to you with Angelo. Please protect her. And my child, eh? Trust Angelo to help you—he is a good man. I hope he will serve you as faithfully as he has me.
Vicario passes the phone back to me and covers his eyes with a hand.
I wait, silent and respectful. When he drops his hand at last, his eyes are watery. “Well, it is as you say,” he says, his voice low but clear. “Tino, my oldest friend and ally. He appointed…you.”
He doesn’t sound thrilled, but he holds out his hand, and I understand what it means. I stand first, adjusting my clothes, and then kneel before him to kiss his ring. It’s not dissimilar to the one on my own hand, but this stone is deep green rather than black. His other hand lands on my head, and I feel I’ve been re-baptized somehow.
We both stand afterwards, and he kisses me on each cheek. “Now I have accepted you, the new Don Morelli.”
Taken aback, I say, “Sir, my name—”
“You are Luciano D’Amato. But now you are head of the MorelliFamiglia. And so you are Don Morelli. Yes?”
“Yes,” I say.
He pulls away from me, all business. “I will speak in support of you, but you must not expect the others to agree simply because of that. Samuel Fuscone, he seems to think he has a claim to the Morelli throne.”
“I plan to kill him soon,” I say. “So that won’t be a problem.”
Vicario gives me a sharp look. “I think what you meant was: ‘I plan toask permissionto kill him soon.’”
I try to copy Finch’s most personable smile as I reply, “Of course, sir. That was exactly what I meant.”
I don’t think the smile is very convincing.
“He killed Tino,” I say, dropping the smile. “You must know that, Don Vicario.”
