I could smell the desperation in the air…
But it was coming from the hospital.
“No,” I said.
108
Adriano
Florence
As I drove closer to thePiazza della Repubblica,I could hear the chatter of automatic weapons in the distance.
bratta-tatta-tat –
bratta-tatta-tat –
And thepop pop popof what I assumed were the cops’ guns.
There were a lot of them – shots fired by the police, I mean – but they were hopelessly outmatched.
The cops had brought pistols to the gunfight –
While theCamorrahad brought machineguns.
I was a tenth of a mile from thePiazzawhen I had to stop the car.
People were running through the streets, screaming, their faces panicked.
I couldn’t go any farther without mowing them down –
So I parked the car in the middle of the road, popped the trunk, and got out.
Screaming parents ran past with children clutched to their chests.
Babies.
God damn Cesare Caproni to HELL –
And let ME send him there.
I pulled a bulletproof vest out of the trunk, slipped it on, and pulled out an M4 rifle.
It was the US military version of the civilian AR-15, but fully automatic.
Twenty years in prison if you got caught with one.
I wasn’t worried about a prison sentence.
I was worried about staying alive for the next five minutes.
As I shouldered a bag of magazines, someone yelled behind me, “BOSS!”
I turned to see two of my foot soldiers, Onofrio and Nazario, running towards me.
They both had on bulletproof vests and carried automatic rifles.
“Come on!” I yelled, and we ran through the screaming crowds of people –
