“Sit,” the man said.
I had no intention of obeying, but the thug behind me forced me over to Papa’s table and into a chair.
I was beginning to think I was the greatest fool ever born for leaving the mansion and Dario’s protection.
“Papa, what’s going on?!” I asked frantically.
My father looked at me with such despair that it frightened me even more.
“I wish you hadn’t come back,” he repeated.
“But I, for one, am so glad you did,” the man with the scar said. “My name is Mehmet Erdogan – although the Rosolinis probably referred to me as the Turk. Ah, yes – I can see by your face that you know who I am. Good. It was my associate who was gunned down in your café two weeks ago. Seems like such a long time, doesn’t it? Tell me, Alessandra – what do the Rosolinis think about what happened that night?”
I looked over at my father –
And the Turk slammed his fist down on the table.
BAM!
I flinched and cried out.
“Look at me, Alessandra, not him,” the Turk instructed. “I’ll repeat my question one more time: what do the Rosolinis think about what happened that night?”
“I – I don’t know, not for sure, but Lars thinks you’re working with some family in Genoa.”
“Lars,” the Turk said, nodding. “He was the one who gunned down Umberto. Ah, well… Berto should have been faster on the draw. What about the priest and my other associate you encountered last week?”
“I don’t know what they think,” I said quietly, trying to keep my fear under control. “I know Niccolo was trying to find out who they were – but if he did, no one ever told me.”
As I spoke, my mind worked at a thousand miles a minute.
How had they known I was coming?!
Or was this all some horrible coincidence?!
“What about the hit in Florence?” the Turk asked. “What are their thoughts on that?”
“They think you did it because Dario wouldn’t let you smuggle women through his territory. Or that the family that controls Florence did it for you.”
The Turk laughed. “Good. Goooood.”
He sat down between my father and me and poured out a shot of whiskey.
“Would you care for some? No? Ah, that’s right… you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he said mockingly, then downed the liquor. “Alessandra, tell me… what do you think about everything that’s happened over the last two weeks?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Surely you must have some thoughts. For instance, did poor Umberto say anything to you before he met his untimely end?”
I remembered a detail I hadn’t thought of since right after the shooting.
“He said… ‘tell your father my compliments to the chef.’ Like he knew Papa.”
“Because he did know your father, Alessandra,” the Turk said. “In fact, Umberto and your father were very well acquainted.”
I stared at Papa.
He wouldn’t look back at me. Instead, he just stared at the table.
“How did you know him?” I whispered.
“We’ll get there,” the Turk said. “But first… don’t you find it remarkable that you were in the middle of a gunfight in Florence, yet you never got hit?”
“Massimo saved me.”
“Yes… and no. The truth is, you saved Massimo. You see, my men in Florence – and they were my men, although the Agrellas gave their consent – my men were trying not to hit you. Their highest priority was that you must be taken unharmed. Because Massimo kept so close to you, they couldn’t concentrate all their firepower on him. They were able to wound him, yes, but they couldn’t go all out… not without endangering you.”
I stared at the Turk in shock.
Was it true?
Had I not been an accidental witness to the violence –
But the reason it had occurred in the first place?
“Why?” I asked in bewilderment.
“Let me tell you a story,” the Turk said with a smile. “There once was a young woman who grew up in a family of the Cosa Nostra. She was promised to a young man from another family in order to make an alliance. But unbeknownst to her parents, she fell in love with a servant in the household. He was older than her, roughly ten years her senior. Theirs was a forbidden love. If the family had found out, he would have been executed immediately.
“A month before her arranged marriage, the young woman found out she was pregnant. The servant – who loved her more than anything – risked his life to help her escape the city her parents controlled. They fled together with their unborn child and never looked back.
“The family searched for years – in Europe, America, even Russia and the Far East – but no clue ever turned up. Little did they know that their daughter had disappeared by staying close to home… right under her family’s noses.
“The daughter and her now-husband had a child, a little girl. They raised her near a small village in the middle of nowhere. They were poor, but they were happy. It seemed like things would be fine forever – except the mother died at an early age. Nothing sinister, mind you. No poison, no bullet, no bomb… just an aneurysm. One of those things that could happen to anyone at any time.”
I stared at the Turk in shock.
He was describing how my mother had died.
“The former servant continued raising his daughter near the tiny village in Tuscany. He kept her existence secret… and he never let her know that she was actually the granddaughter of one of the most powerful crime families in all of Italy.”
“No,” I whispered in horror.
I stared at my father, but he would not meet my gaze.
“Yes, my dear,” the Turk said with a smile. “You are not Alessandra Calvano. Well, you are, since that is the last name your parents chose when they fled Genoa. But you are also Alessandra Oldani, heir to the crime family that has controlled Genoa for generations.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered to my father.
“To keep you safe, my dear,” the Turk said. “And to keep himself safe. After all, if the family had ever found out where he was, they would have killed him for taking away their daughter… and their unborn granddaughter.
“That is where I come in.
“As I sought to expand my business dealings outside Turkey, I met with a dozen mafia families throughout Italy. And as I made new allies, I gathered many little tidbits of information.
“I was the one who heard about a mystery man who sold off rare gold coins every few years in Florence…
“I was the one who made the connection between him and the Oldani’s mafia princess… who had fled with the servant after stealing a hundred gold coins from her father’s safe…
“I was the one who sent Umberto Fumagalli here two weeks ago. Umberto had been a young foot soldier in the Oldani household 20 years ago and would know your father by sight.
“What I didn’t know was the extent of the rivalry between the Oldanis and the Rosolinis. The Rosolinis were one of the few families in Italy I hadn’t contacted. I heard the head of their family had died unexpectedly, and his oldest son and heir was still in jail. They were beneath my notice… or so I thought, until they proved themselves both ruthless and efficient. As soon as they found out Umberto was in their territory, they killed him immediately.
“Even worse: they took you back to their house, out of my reach. Everything that has transpired since then has been part of my plan to get you back.”
“Why?” I asked, horrified. “You plan to give me to the Oldani family – for what? To gain their favor?”
“That was the initial plan, yes,” the Turk said. “But another far more interesting possibility has arisen.”
“And what’s that?” I asked angrily.
“When you escaped from the family estate and fled to the church, you did it right under the Rosolinis’ noses. How?”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
I couldn’t tell him the truth – I couldn’t.
“They let me,” I said. “They knew I was going – ”
“That’s a lie,” the Turk snarled. “While my associate had you pinned down in the alleyway, the priest called my men and repeated everything you’d told him. Don’t lie to me again. There is a secret passageway into the Rosolinis’ mansion, isn’t there?”
“No – ”
The Turk slapped me in the face, and I cried out in pain.
My father shouted and tried to stand –
But one of the thugs forced him back down.
“I told you not to lie to me,” the Turk said. “The next time you do, I’ll leave more than a red mark on your pretty little face. Now – there is a secret passage, yes?”
“Yes… but you’ll have to kill me before I’ll tell you where it is,” I hissed.
The Turk looked at me for a long moment.
“I believe you,” he finally said. “I don’t think you would betray them, not even to save your own life.”
Then he gave me a sinister smile.
“… but I think you might betray them to save someone else’s.”
The Turk nodded to one of his men, who pulled out a gun and put the barrel against my father’s head.
“PAPA!” I screamed.
My father went white as a ghost.
“Now,” the Turk said, “you’ll take us to the passageway… or I’ll have Salvatore here blow out your father’s brains.”
“Alright – just don’t hurt him!” I cried out.
“Good girl,” the Turk said with a smile. “I knew you’d see reason.”
