And so I led them back to the secret entrance to the mansion.
I had no choice. When they marched me to their parked cars a quarter mile away, they brought Papa, too. They forced him into the front passenger seat while the Turk and I sat in the back.
The entire drive, the Turk held a gun to the back of my father’s head.
“If you cross me, you get to watch him die,” the Turk warned.
“I can lead you to the secret door, but it locks from the inside,” I said frantically. “There’s no way to get back in.”
“You just get me there. I’ll do the rest.”
I had hoped that maybe I could text Lars a warning – but the first thing they did was confiscate my cell phone.
“Don’t want you stabbing us in the back,” the Turk smirked.
Stabbing us in the back.
That’s what I would be doing to Dario, Massimo, and all the others:
I would be leading their greatest enemy right to them in the dead of night.
I hated myself for doing it. I would have given almost anything to not do it, including my own life –
But I would not sacrifice my father.
I couldn’t.
I just prayed that God would somehow find a way to let Dario and the others know what was happening.
The one kindness the Turk allowed me was he let me hold my father’s hand through the gap in the front seats.
“I’m so sorry, Alessandra,” my father whispered.
“It’s alright, Papa,” I said through my tears.
“I always wanted to tell you… but I wanted you to be safe…”
“It’s okay, Papa. It’s all going to be okay.”
“And it will,” the Turk agreed, interrupting the heartfelt moment. Then he gave me an evil smile. “As long as you give me everything I want.”
I didn’t believe him.
I wasn’t sure what would happen. Maybe he would give me to the Oldanis, so I could become the prisoner of another mafia family –
But I didn’t see the Turk letting my father go free.
What could I do, though, with him holding a gun to Papa’s head?
The Turk’s men drove into the village and parked at the base of the hill, the one leading up to the ten-foot stone wall with the crack in it.
When we got out of our car, the Turk pointed at Papa. “Tie him up and throw him in the trunk.”
Two thugs grabbed my father and started binding his hands and legs.
“No!” I cried out.
“What did you think would happen?” the Turk asked me. “That I’d leave him here to cause mischief? He can either go in the trunk, or we can shoot him. Which do you prefer?”
“Don’t hurt him,” I whispered.
“It’s alright,” my father reassured me. “Everything will be alright.”
“Spoken like a true optimist,” the Turk said.
Then his men threw Papa in the trunk and shut it tight.
“Now,” the Turk said, gesturing with his gun. “Lead the way.”
Fourteen of us went up the hillside – me, the Turk, and 12 of his men.
Every man but the Turk had a pistol with a silencer attached to it.
The Turk’s gun was short and stubby – the better to press up against his victim’s head.
Except that he let me walk ahead of them like a dog.
The gun pointed at my back was my leash.
I did my best to retrace my path in the darkness. Once I got to the wall, I had to search for several minutes before I finally found the crack.
“Here it is,” I said. “But aren’t you afraid of cameras?”
“There are no cameras back here,” the Turk said confidently. “There haven’t been for the last 50 years.”
I stared at him. “How do you know that?”
He smiled. “I have my sources.”
One of the Turk’s men went through the gap first. He pointed his gun at me as I went next so I wouldn’t run away.
One by one, the others followed until all 14 of us were through.
I thought about what would happen once we got close to the house.
If I screamed, would Dario or anyone else even hear me?
I would be killed instantly – I knew that – but at least they would know someone was coming.
However, the Turk would probably retreat…
…and then shoot my father in the head as punishment for my betrayal.
Still, I weighed my options about screaming…
Until the Turk took even that choice away from me.
He ripped a piece of duct tape off a roll and said, “Close your lips.”
I did as I was told, and he taped over my mouth.
“Good. Now take us there,” the Turk commanded.
I backtracked through the woods until I reached the end of the trees.
The Rosolini mansion stood dark and still in the moonlight, almost 600 feet away…
…and I was helpless to warn them.
I walked as far as I thought was correct, then got down on all fours. I crawled along, fumbling with my hands in the ferns and undergrowth –
Until my hand slipped all the way through a patch of vines.
I thought for a second about not telling the Turk and hoping his men missed it completely…
…but if he found out I lied to him, he would kill my father out of spite.
So I turned and gestured at the ground.
The Turk nodded, and two of his thugs tore up the vines to reveal a hole in the ground. Others shone flashlights at the stone steps, and we entered the underground passageway.
When we reached the iron door, one of the men tried the handle. It refused to budge.
I looked at the Turk and gestured like See? I told you!
He just grinned.
“If I let something as simple as this stop me, I never would have gotten anywhere in life.” Then he barked, “Do it!”
Two of the men duct-taped bags of dark powder to the hinges on the door.
“Thermite powder,” the Turk said with a chuckle. “The Allies used it in World War II to destroy the largest artillery gun the Nazis ever created. It can cut through four inches of steel like it was nothing.”
A third man lit a small blowtorch and set one of the bags on fire.
“Stand back,” the Turk said as he pulled me far away.
Suddenly the bag began to burn as bright as the sun, throwing off sparks everywhere.
I cried out, but the duct tape over my mouth muffled the sound.
The Turk cackled in delight.
Once the sparks died away, a glowing hole was all that was left where the hinge had once been.
“Light the other one,” the Turk ordered.
They repeated the process. Once it was over and the hinges were destroyed, the thugs used a crowbar to pry off the door. Five strong men caught the massive slab of metal and lowered it to the ground.
“Let us continue,” the Turk said, and we walked through the doorway into the darkness.
