Alarms and sirens go off as screams fill the air. We’re now outside the marina’s gates and pulled off onto the side of the road in the shadows. Jorge and the other drivers turned off our headlights a quarter mile before we got here and have kept them off. We’re well hidden as we wait. It’s ten minutes before emergency services arrive with enough crew and tools to put out anything. Firefighters work to control the dock fires, protectingyachts and commercial vessels, to stop the spread of sparks to nearby structures.
It’s nearly an hour before Don Pasquale and his underboss arrive. Both men gesture animatedly as we use our parabolic sonic listening devices, and Pablo translates. They’re swearing up a storm as they argue over who’s the likely culprit. Even from a distance, it’s easy to recognize which man is the don since the firefighters keep their heads lowered whenever they address him. Everyone else stays away while the underboss directs their men to investigate.
“It’s Dante.” Joaquin hands me his phone.
“How’d it go?” He’s leading our team ofsicarios—hitmen—in Naples.
“A booming success. There’s nothing left,Capitán.”
“Good work. Any of the Camorrashow up?”
“Yes. The don andconsigliere, but they left just as angry and confused as they arrived. We used the parabolic listening devices and the translation app to know what they were saying. They suspect theMala del BrentaandCosa Nostra.”
“All right. Thank you. Get to the airport and get down here fast.”
“Sí, capitán.”
My cousins listened to the conversation, so they’re up to speed on what’s happening in Naples. We slip out of our parking spots and head to the airport. While we’re on the road, I call the’Ndranghetadon, knowing he’ll be extra pissed to learn we were so nearby, and they had no clue.
“Chi diavolo è questo?” Who the fuck is this?
Pablo whispers the translation.
“Don Pasquale, this is Alejandro Diaz. We met indirectly this evening.”
The man switches to English for my benefit, and I can tell he’s unimpressed when he answers.
“What does the Cartel want now? What do you mean we met indirectly? I’ve been at my office all night.”
“Until you arrived at the marina.”
“You?”
“Me. Hold on a moment while I add someone to the call.”
“Don’t tell me to hold on. What the fuck do you want?”
I ignore him as I make it a three-way call with the Camorra don, Gennaro Ricciardi.
“Gentlemen, you’ve both witnessed the consequences of being uncooperative. Would you like to reconsider how you return our generosity?”
“Figlio di puttana.” Motherfucker.
“Pezzo di merda.” Piece of shit.
I’m uncertain who calls me what, but I don’t care.
“TheMala del Brentatook my offer, and I expect theCosa Nostrato do the same. It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship with them. You, on the other hand, are not making good choices. Tonight was a taste of what I’ll do if you drag your feet again. Take the money and the trade routes, be more cooperative the first time I tell you to, or I’ll keep blowing up warehouses. I’ll move on to factories, and I’ll shut down your importsandexports. You will lose far more than you stand to gain. When you do, it’ll strengthen theMala del BrentaandCosa Nostra. They will sweep in and sweep you out. This agreement not only brings peace but also prosperity.”
I give my speech, then fall silent. I’m certain they’re texting each other like teens hiding their phones in class. They want no one knowing they’re consulting each other. I feel like playing the music fromJeopardy.
While they’re hemming and hawing, we arrive at the airport. We’ll have a while to wait before the jet arrives with the guys from Naples. Once the calls end, we’ll all catch a nap. I just need this shored up before I can rest.
“Fine, Diaz. You have a deal.”
It’s Gennaro who relents first.
“You can expect your first installment tomorrow morning.”
