“Take the girl to my vehicle,” I tell Darian, allowing everyone to think I’ll use her for my pleasure later on. She doesn’t need to be traumatized by my empty threats, although it would surprise them all to know I’ve never been unfaithful to Emylyah. Probably even my brother.
Picking up a razor-sharp pair of secateurs, I stroll leisurely over to the asshole in the chair and snip off his broken pinkie with pathetic ease. “Handsome looking son you have.”
It’s an assumption. The child isn’t really here. While I don’t need a distraught kid distracting me, I would never stoop to that level of debasement. But surely all parents think their kids are the best. Although, this svolota might be an exception judging by the way he treats his wife. I’m gambling on the fact the kid’s a boy, and men like this mudak always prize their heirs.
I don’t say a word as I walk back over to Darian and allow the guy to stew. It’s strange how silence is often more effective, encouraging people to fill it, rather than co-exist with the weight of soundlessness haunting their thoughts.
In mere seconds the man is a blubbering mess, spilling every secret he knows.
Kids… like I’ve always said, they’re a weakness.
“The insurrection didn’t die with Vito Rossi,” the scumbag admits. “It was always bigger than him, but the stupid bastard believed he was in control, even when he was being manipulated.”
“So, the Cosa Nostra,” I speculate, surprisingly disappointed with the confirmation, and angry at myself for mistaking Mika Rossi as an ally. I’ve always prided myself on my judgement. The disclosure sends a wave of fury thundering through me. Yeah, definitely going fucking soft. That shit needs to end. Now.
“Well, well… never thought young Mika Rossi had it in him,” I muse, as if I haven’t been blindsided by the information.
Another wet laugh follows my words, then a gurgling cough before more blood gets spat on the floor. “That little faggot couldn’t organize something like this if his life depended on it,” our captive splutters, suddenly chatty. “You have far bigger problems on your hands than that runt.”
I don’t dwell on the relief. Truth is, I like Mika, and he’s a much better ally than an enemy. But he’s new-age mafia; the heir to the Italian throne, and not quite in control yet. Unlike us, and the Irish, where a new generation have already taken charge, La Cosa Nostra is still ruled by the old guard. Is that what this is? Dissent within the ranks?
Or was the Viper in bed with the Columbians? I’ve heard rumors of an unholy alliance there, too.
“Tell me about them,” I demand, my expression granite as I feel us getting closer to the crux of the matter.
The man laughs hysterically, like he’s in on some big joke. “You’re all fucked,” he spits with as much glee as a man about to lose his life can have. “You, the Irish, and Mika Rossi’s pansy-ass.”
That’s the second time he’s insinuated the heir to the Cosa Nostra is gay. I don’t know if it’s true, but the attitude of men like this is the reason my brother has such a chip on his shoulder… I can hear him growling under his breath behind me.
“The Viper wanted to go back to the old order.”
There’s nothing new there. Everyone knows Vito Rossi was plotting behind Mika’s back to take things back to the old ways. The flesh trade in particular, which those of us more forward thinking are stepping away from.
“The Viper’s dead. Whatever he wanted is obsolete.”
A sly look comes into his eye. “But the Viper was never in it alone. He had help. Outside help.”
He thinks he’s got one up on me, but it’s not hard to put two and two together. “From Red Scorpion,” I declare, stealing his thunder. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
His mouth falls open, but as cool as I’m playing it, he’s confirmed my deepest fears. “So, someone has decided to bring an ancient name back from the dead.” I play it off like I’m bored. Like it means nothing. “But without backing, it’s just a name.”
“It’s more than just a name,” he spits, a flush rising on his battered face. Hit a nerve there.
“Who then?” I ask, flipping open the secateurs. “Who’s behind it? Or do I need to fetch…” The guy on the chair shakes his head vigorously. “I don’t know, I swear. Please…”
I know the truth when I hear it. In a split second, I pull out my gun and shoot him in the head, not waiting to see the life seep out of his eyes before I gesture to my men who detach from the shadows.
“Take him to the pig farm and make sure nobody finds him.”
Then I give instructions to Darian. “Dump a hefty sum into his bank account, then buy a plane ticket to somewhere exotic in his name. Make sure someone matching his description gets on the plane and takes out the maximum cash allowance from a local branch when they get there. Whoever you use can keep the cash as payment.”
“Clever. You want it to look like he took a bribe and ran. What about the rest of the money?” he asks. “You want me to withdraw it after it’s been found, and the set-up is complete?”
I shake my head. “No. Make sure the wife’s name is on the account, then leave it there for her.”
Darian just nods, not saying a word about my largesse.
Soft!
