The Doomsday Conspiracy
“Good morning, Carlo. You’re out early.”
“Yeah.”
“What have you got for me today?”
Carlo took out the bracelet and laid it on the counter. “This.”
Gambino picked it up. As he studied it, his eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”
“A rich aunt died and left it to me. Is it worth anything?”
“It could be,” Gambino said cautiously.
“Don’t fuck around with me.”
Gambino looked hurt. “Have I ever cheated you?”
“All the time.”
“You boys are always kidding around. I’ll tell you what I will do, Carlo. I’m not sure I can handle this by myself. It’s very valuable.”
Carlo’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“I’ll have to see if I can lay it off somewhere. I’ll give you a call tonight.”
“Okay,” Carlo said. He snatched up the bracelet. “I’ll keep this until I hear from you.”
Carlo left the shop, walking on air. So, he had been right! The sucker was rich, and he was also crazy. Why else would someone give an expensive bracelet to a whore?
In the store, Gambino watched Carlo leave. He thought, What the hell have those idiots got themselves into? From under the counter, he picked up a circular that had been sent to all pawn shops. It had a description of the bracelet he had just seen, but at the bottom, instead of the usual police number to call, there was a special notice: “Notify SIFAR immediately”. Gambino would have ignored an ordinary police circular, as he had hundreds of times in the past, but he knew enough about SIFAR to know that one never crossed them. He hated to lose the profit on the bracelet, but neither did he intend to put his neck in a noose. Reluctantly, he picked up the telephone and dialled the number on the circular.
Chapter Forty-Four
It was the season of fear, of swirling, deadly shadows. Years earlier, Robert had been sent on a mission to Borneo and had gone into the deep jungle after a traitor. It had been in October, during musim takoot, the traditional head-hunting season, when the jungle natives lived in terror of Balli Salang, the spirit that sought out humans for their blood. It was a season of murders, and now for Robert, Naples had suddenly become the jungles of Borneo. Death was in the air. Do not go gentle into the fucking night, Robert thought. They’ll have to catch me first. How had they traced him here? Pier. They must have tracked him down through Pier. I have to get back to the house and warn her, Robert thought. But first I have to find a way out of here.
He drove toward the outskirts of the city, to where the autostrada began, hoping that by some miracle, it might be clear. Five hundred yards before he reached the entrance, he saw the police roadblock. He turned around and headed back toward the centre of the city.
Robert drove slowly, concentrating, putting himself into the minds of his pursuers. They would have all avenues of escape out of Italy blocked. Every ship leaving the country would be searched. And a plan suddenly came to him. They would have no reason to search ships not leaving Italy. It’s a chance, Robert thought. He headed for the harbour again.
The little bell over the door of the jewellery shop rang, and Gam-bino looked up. Two men in dark suits walked in. They were not customers.
“Can I help you?”
“Mr Gambino?”
He exposed his false teeth. “Yes.”
“You called about an emerald bracelet.”
SIFAR. He had been expecting them. But this time he was on the side of the angels. “That’s right. As a patriotic citizen, I felt it was my duty …”
“Cut the bullshit. Who brought it in?”
“A young boy named Carlo.”
“Did he leave the bracelet?”
“No, he took it with him.”
“What’s Carlo’s last name?”
Gambino lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know his last name. He’s one of the boys in the Diavoli Rossi. That’s one of our local gangs. It’s run by a kid named Lucca.”
“Do you know where we can find this Lucca?”
Gambino hesitated. If Lucca found out that he had talked, he would have his tongue cut out. If he did not tell these men what they wanted to know, he would have his brains bashed in. “He lives on Via Sorcella, behind the Piazza Garibaldi.”
“Thank you, Mr Gambino. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I’m always happy to cooperate with …”
The men were gone.
Lucca was in bed with his girlfriend when the two men shoved open the door to his apartment.
Lucca leaped out of bed. “What the hell is this? Who are you?”
One of the men pulled out his identification.
SIFAR! Lucca swallowed. “Hey, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m a law-abiding citizen who …”
“We know that, Lucca. We’re not interested in you. We’re interested in a boy named Carlo.”
Carlo. So that was what this was about. That fucking bracelet! What the hell had Carlo got himself into? SIFAR did not send men around looking for stolen jewellery.
“Well … do you know him or don’t you?”
“I might.”
“If you aren’t sure, we’ll refresh your memory down at headquarters.”
“Wait! I do remember, now,” Lucca said. “You must mean Carlo Valli. What about him?”
“We’d like to have a talk with him. Where does he live?”
Every member of the Diavoli Rossi had to swear a blood oath of loyalty, an oath that they would die before they would betray a fellow member. That was what made the Diavoli Rossi such a great club. They stuck together. One for all and all for one.