Page 82 of Mistaken
“You know what direction he’s planning for our family business,” Dario said, no longer grinning. “The question is why haven’t you killed him already.”
I took in a deep breath, oddly, it was a pleasure to watch another family argue among themselves for change, instead of it being mine at war with each other.
I touched my thumb to a discreetly placed scanner and an elevator door opened.
“Fancy,” Dario commented.
“Some of our lower-tech facilities are out of service at the moment,” I said drily.
The steel door opened into a concrete-lined bunker. Some enterprising soldier with a terrible sense of humor once painted the doorway with the sign “Bogdan’s Playhouse.” I made him remove the paint with a toothbrush and his own spit. The man in question turned to offer me a respectful nod. He had three men dangling on chains from the ceiling and a fourth tied to a marble slab. That particular prisoner was missing a few body parts.
“Ah, Pakhan.” Bodgan said happily, “I am so pleased to have truly useful information to offer you. This gentleman-” he lifted the prone man’s head and dropped it again with a bloody-sounding “thunk!” “This gentleman has something he would like to share with you.”
“Signor Toscano mi perdoni-”the man’s words were mushy, likely from missing teeth.
“Fottuto traditore!”Dario, always the hothead, surged forward to smash his fist into the man’s face.
“Stop!” Giovanni yanked his brother back, “Let him talk and then you can kill him.”
He questioned the man in English, for our benefit. I would never tell him, of course, that I spoke fluent Italian.
“Marcos. You were one of my father’s most trusted lieutenants,” he said coldly, “how did you sink so low?”
The man spat out some blood on the floor. “I am loyal to the family,” he attempted to sneer, but the effect was spoiled when he began coughing. “After your father died, I knew Dante would lead us in a stronger direction. He would bring the Toscanofamigliato a level of power your father was too soft to achieve.”
“By taking on the Red Trade,” hissed Dario. “Perhaps we should sell your children and see if you’re still as enthusiastic about the idea?”
More coughing, and Bogdan considerately wiped it off the man’s face.
“My sins are my own,” he wheezed, “I did not know about the plan to murder your parents. Dante brought me into his confidence after-”
“Thatbastardokilled our parents?” Dario took a step closer and Giovanni held out his arm, blocking him.
“Our brother is too stupid to plan this on his own,” he said, still looking cold and composed. “Who is he working with? Who’s buying up the mercenaries?”
“Dante handled the recruitment on the dark web,” the man gasped, “but the more the Bratva have killed, the harder it has been to procure good fighters. I had to supervise this last mission because the stupid bastards couldn’t follow directions without a leader.”
“Who is Dante working with?” I interrupted; I was so close- I could end this now.
When the man tried to spit in my direction, Giovanni backhanded him. “Listen closely, Marcos, if you do not answer with everything you know, I will keep you alive to watch us sell your children into the Red Trade.”
“The Toscanofamigliado not punish women and children,” he garbled, “you would not-”
“Ah,” Giovanni purred, “but you are no longer a member of ourfamiglia,you are an enemy. And Dante, your Don, happily tortures the innocent. Make your choice.”
The last spark went out of the prisoner. “The Sokolov Bratva. The daughter funded all of it. They intended to kill you and your brother as well, and the Morozov brothers. The Sokolovs and the Toscanos could step into the power vacuum and take over all the territory.”
“Who else?” Giovanni said, “There’s another family involved. Who?”
The man’s body started shuddering violently and he grabbed him by the throat. “Who else, Marco? I will spare your family if you tell me.”
“Ah, it is a seizure,” Bogdan said in disappointment.
“Who!” Giovanni leaned down to hear the man’s last words before they ended in a gurgle. When he straightened up, his mouth was a thin slash of fury. Taking out his pocket square, he wiped the man’s blood off his face. “He tried to give me a name, but all I got was one word. Irish.”
Thomas had tried to warn me about the Irish,I thought.There’s another traitor in my ranks.
“Patrick,” I hissed.
