La Sposa (57 page)

That was everyone but his longtime rival
Giovanni Battaglia. The half-breed pretender had too much power and
strength, all of it undeserving. The
Camorra
were the dogs
of society in Armando’s opinion. They employed the code of the
Mafia without the discipline of electing true leaders, full
Sicilians who were worthy to organize and lead. It pissed Armando
off regularly, when he heard of how powerful Giovanni grew each
day. Now that he wiped out the Calderones and took claim to the
triangle, even the
Ndrangheta
was paying attention. He
needed to be stopped.

The phone call had left Armando seething with
fury. Why would his father arrange a meeting with Giovanni
Battaglia and not tell him? Bringing the bastard half-breed Don to
his front door without the proper acceptance from him was
unacceptable.
What was the old man up to?

Tapping on his father’s door, he pushed it
open and stepped inside. Don Marsuvio Mancini sat up in his bed
with a tube under his nose, running across his cheeks, and hooking
around his large ears. The tubes joined under his chin ran a direct
line into the oxygen tank he carried with him everywhere. The
cancer was carved out of his lungs, so the doctors said, but at
seventy-one the likelihood of his father living past another year
was slim.

“
Patri
…. may I?” Armando
asked before entering.

The old man waved him inside. “What is it?” He
tossed the covers back and eased his feet into his slippers. “I was
about to shower and go to the gardens to read.”

“
Giovanni Battaglia,” Armando said,
clasping his hands in front of him.

Before his eyes, his father’s face and neck
reddened. The curve to the old man’s back appeared to straighten as
he sat upright and glared at his son. “What about him?”

“
He said you requested a meeting.
He’s landing. Coming here. Why?”

“
Here? Now?”

“
Yes. Did you not request
it?”

Mancini pushed the oxygen tank away from the
bed and then rose. “
Tutto va bene.
I want to see him. It’s
time.”

“
Time for what?” Armando asked. He
took a cautious step forward. “I have a right to be in attendance.
I am your
consigliere
and yet you keep this from
me?”

“
Don’t you stand there and speak to
me of your rights. I am the Don of this family. Until you shovel
dirt over me, the rights you have are the ones I grant.”

Armando nodded in respect.

“
When Giovanni arrives, bring him
to me. In the garden.” Mancini put on his robe and eased it on.
With his other hand, he gripped the handle of his oxygen tank and
began to wheel it with him toward the bathroom. Armando watched him
go, tight-lipped.

“
Patri?”

Don Mancini paused. He heaved a burdened sigh
and cast his gaze back to his son. “
É fatto.
I promise to
make it plain to you soon. Right now, follow my wishes without
question. I have my reasons.”

Disappointed, Armando watched his father go.
It was hard to see the withered man he had become. He remembered
the man who ruled with his fist and evoked respect in every village
that dared whisper his name. After his mother’s death two years
ago, he noticed the change in his father. Now, with the battle won
against cancer, he looked like all the fight had left him. Except
in the brief moment Armando told him of Giovanni Battaglia’s
pending visit. Whatever brought Giovanni to Sicily had returned the
fire and determination in his father that had been absent for
months. But what was it?

Bagheria Sicily –

The drive out of Palermo through the hills
went without incident. Giovanni travelled in the car with Lorenzo
and Dominic. Four of his best men were in the car behind them.
Still, he was in the heart of Mancini’s territory; and without a
formal invitation, he would need to proceed with
caution.

“
Should we call on Uncle Vito and
our cousins? Let them know you are in Sicily.” Lorenzo
asked.

“
Doesn’t matter. By the time they
reach us, my business will be concluded with Mancini,” Giovanni
answered.

“
There is one thing that makes no
sense to me, Giovanni.”

“
Only one?” Giovanni
asked.

Lorenzo half-smiled. “Capriccio. Why did he
cover this for Tomosino? Or did he cover it for Mancini? Capriccio
was determined that Marietta believed she was his. He went as far
as putting her in his will, with a stipulation that she not request
a blood test for paternity. She found an original birth certificate
with him listed as the father. What was in it for him to keep a
thirty- year- old secret?”

The question stuck in his gut as well. “I
assume we will know the answer shortly.” He nodded toward the
gates. Tall black iron gates surrounded the property, and the land
stretching to the Mancini’s villa was so neatly manicured, it
looked like golfing green. Mancini’s compound was as vast as
Melanzana
. It rose up from the tallest hill like a solitary
kingdom. It had been in Mancini’s family for close to three hundred
years.

“
Shit, we’re here.” Lorenzo
grunted.

An armed young man, who looked to be in his
teens with a gun twice his size, accompanied another. They stopped
at the car and peered in at Giovanni. The older, leaner man cut a
hateful glare back toward the caravan, accompanying
Giovanni.

“
We won’t leave our men outside the
gates.” Dominic informed them both in Italian.

The man frowned, and they waited. He stepped
back and nodded for them to pass. They drove along a forested dirt
road. Lorenzo removed a smaller gun from the band fastened to his
ankle. He checked the chamber and verified it was loaded. He put it
back under his pants leg once the car parked.

The door was opened for Giovanni. He emerged,
as Armando Mancini started down his marble steps toward him with
eight men following, each meaner looking than the other.

“
Giovanni.
Benvenuto
.”

He was greeted with a kiss to both cheeks and
he did the same.

“
How long has it been?” Armando
asked.

“
Over a year, possibly
longer.”

“
Yes. Ah, Lorenzo, Dominic, good to
see you both.”

“
Bullshit,” Lorenzo
said.

Armando smirked. “True.”

“
Is he expecting us?” Dominic
asked.

“
He’s expecting Giovanni. You two
are welcome to join me for a drink. While we wait.”

“
We intend to meet him together.”
Lorenzo said.

Armando clasped his hands behind his back.
“This is my home. You will show respect to my father. He wants to
meet with Giovanni alone.” Armando then cast his gaze back toward
the men that came with them. “And they are to remain outside. If
that doesn’t suit you, then you are free to leave.”

Giovanni put up a hand. “No need. I will see
him alone.” He cast a look to Lorenzo for him to fall in line. His
cousin cut down Armando with a glare, but didn’t object.

“
Very good. Now, gentlemen, you
know the routine.”

The men stepped forward and patted down
Lorenzo, relieving him of all his weapons, including the one
strapped to his trouser sock. They did the same to Dominic.
Giovanni was not searched. It would be considered an insult to do
so, based on his status. He could sense Armando’s displeasure with
having to accommodate the intrusion.

“
Please, follow me this
way.”

Together, Armando and Giovanni entered doors
at least eight feet tall. The vestibule led to a foyer with high
cathedral ceilings and two elegant oval stairwells that led to the
second floor. Armando continued through the sunken lower level
toward the back halls.

“
How is he?” Giovanni asked with
forced concern.

“
Not so good. The cancer is gone.
But his recovery has taken a toll. The doctors are amazed he lasted
this long.”

“
I had no idea he’s been this
ill.”

“
We’ve kept it private,” Armando
said. He stopped before an open parlor equipped with a pool table.
“Dominic and Lorenzo can wait for you here. I will take you to the
gardens.”

Giovanni made eye contact with his men. He
nodded that he would be okay. He saw Lorenzo struggle with the
separation but he did as requested. He and Armando continued on.
Once they reached the doors to the outside veranda, Armando stopped
him.

“
Go to the right. The gardens are
there. He’s easy to find.”

He opened the door and stepped outside. The
back of the estate was as expansive as the front. He walked out
along the cobblestone path that wound around flowers of colors
plucked from rainbows. It was very serene. And the warm temperature
made it all the more welcoming. Giovanni found the Don seated in a
chair that extended his legs and lifted them so he could recline.
He lowered the book he had been reading upon his
approach.

“
Join me,” Mancini said.

There was a chair next to him. When Giovanni
drew closer, he could hear the old Don’s staggered breathing. The
sunlight gleamed off his oxygen tank. Mancini looked up at him with
a face filled with wrinkles. He cut his gaze back to the flowers in
bloom. Giovanni sat. “You don’t appear surprised to see
me.”

“
I’m not,” Mancini
wheezed.

“
They tell me Manny Cigars is your
name.”

“
No one has spoken that name to me
in over twenty years.”

“
Maybe if you had returned to
America, they might have.” Giovanni offered.

Mancini shook his head. “I’ve been thinking
about this day since I learned she was alive.”

“
Who, my wife?”

“
My daughter!”

“
Don’t call her that. You know damn
well she isn’t your daughter.”

Mancini chuckled. The old Don coughed. He
removed a hanky and covered his mouth. Giovanni waited for the
coughing fit to end. Don Mancini wheezed in a breath. “I’ve never
met her in person you know. Only seen her in pictures and on the
television. She is as beautiful as her mother. Looks just like
Lisa.”

“
What is this about really?
Revenge? Extortion? What are you after?” Giovanni asked.

“
Hold your tongue.” Don Mancini cut
him a glare. “You are in my home. Show respect.”

A tense pause lengthened between them. “
Va
bene.
Then make it plain for me. What do you want?” Giovanni
asked.

“
She’s my daughter.” Mancini looked
over. “I want her to know it!”

“
That’s not going to
happen.”

Mancini coughed and hacked up phlegm spitting
it over his shoulder to the grass. “How did you find out the truth,
Gio? Who told you?”

“
Does it matter? I had hoped I was
wrong. I’m still not convinced you are her father. Excuse me if I
don’t see the family resemblance.”

“
I owe you no convincing,” Mancini
replied. He cut his gaze back toward the garden. “The story I tell
will only be shared with her.”

Giovanni laughed. “Then you have a big problem
old man.”

“
You don’t know my reach, son. She
is in Italy because of me!”

“
So you did bring her here?”
Giovanni asked. “I spoke to Rocco. He told me about you and my
father. So what is this? Some sick act of revenge all these years
later? You did all of this to destroy me?”

“
I can give a shit about you!”
Mancini spat. He coughed hard and Giovanni sat up alarmed. He made
to rise to get Armando but Mancini grabbed his arm. “Sit! Sit now!”
he said coughing, but capturing enough breath to speak.

Giovanni sat. Mancini turned up the oxygen on
his tank and wheezed down air into his lungs until his breathing
normalized. “Two years ago, I was diagnosed with lung cancer. Too
many cigars I suppose. And as you know, I love my cigars.” Mancini
chuckled. “The doctor told me I wouldn’t last six months. After
losing my Rosa, I didn’t give a shit about life. But Armando, he
isn’t ready for the legacy he will inherit. Like you, he is full of
pride and ego. So I went under the knife twice. What’s left of my
lungs is barely enough to pump oxygen to my brain. Still, I
exist.”

“
The devil is hard to die.”
Giovanni remarked.

Mancini laughed. “True. You think this is
about revenge? You are such a fool. What do I need with
revenge?”

“
Then why? Why send her to
me…”

“
I never sent her to you!” Mancini
wheezed. “I brought her to Italy to bring her to me! Me! The moment
I found out, I was dying. I needed to make peace. She doesn’t know
I exist. But I’ve known of her all her life. Protected her. And
you!” The Don leveled his finger at Giovanni. “You got in between
us.”

“
This is bullshit.” Giovanni
said.

“
You respect nothing.” Mancini said
with evident distaste. “In my day,
omertá
had meaning. Men
lived by a code. I saw you slaughter people because of the
Calderones. Women? Children.”