Mafia Kings: Adriano: Chapter 19

I filled in Niccolo and Dario over speakerphone as we sped away from the Agrellas’ safe house.

They were as shocked as I had been.

“You’re joking,” Niccolo said.

“Nope.”

“Sounds like the Agrellas brought a Rottweiler to the party and it turned on them.”

“But who’s the Rottweiler?” Dario asked rhetorically.

“You think it could be connected to the Turk?”

“Maybe,” Dario said.

The Turk was a rival gangster who had invaded our compound last month. He had taken Alessandra hostage after Dario had kicked her out. Then he’d used her to break in and try to murder us in our sleep.

Luckily for us – and unluckily for him – we’d seen him coming.

Security cameras for the win.

The Turk had also conspired with an old woman, a servant of ours who had killed our father to get revenge for her own family’s deaths. She had been the Turk’s mole in our organization. Alessandra had shot her to save Dario’s life – yet another reason we all loved her.

The Turk had also been mixed up with the Oldanis, a rival family out of Genoa –

But all of that had been patched up when it was discovered Alessandra was their long-lost granddaughter. Her mother had run away before Alessandra was born. Now that Alessandra and Dario were married, our families were allies.

Still… there had always been a lingering suspicion that the Turk had an unseen partner in the shadows.

“All I know,” Niccolo said, “is that you need to get your men back here RIGHT NOW.”

“I still have one more lead to run down.”

“Adriano – ”

“I’m serious. The girl we pulled out with us talked about a modeling agency. I want to go there before we leave town.”

“Alright,” Niccolo said grudgingly, “but get it done and then LEAVE.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” I said, then hung up.

“Back to the warehouse?” Giorgio asked.

“Not yet. Head for Fiesole first.”

Fiesole was a small neighborhood on the outskirts of Florence where the wealthiest people lived… including the Agrellas.

Which Massimo knew immediately, seeing as we’d been to weddings on their property over the years.

“NO,” he snapped.

“Just to look,” I said. “I’m not planning on raiding the compound or anything.”

“I’ll admit we got some great intel by going to the safe house, but we got lucky. This is pushing it.”

“We won’t do a damn thing. We’re just going up there to see if they’ve gone to the mattresses.”

‘Going to the mattresses’ was Cosa Nostra slang for hunkering down in times of war. Mafiosos would drag a bunch of mattresses into the central room of a house, and the foot soldiers would take turns keeping guard and sleeping in shifts.

“And how are we going to know that without getting close enough for them to see us?” Massimo snapped.

“Lars – you’ve got your sniper rifle in the trunk, right?” I asked.

“…yeah…?” he said warily.

“We can drive up to a nearby ridge, and you can take a look through that high-powered scope of yours.”

“And maybe take a shot at Domenic Agrella if the opportunity arises?” Massimo asked sarcastically.

“If the opportunity arises, sure,” I replied. “But if they’ve gone to the mattresses, we won’t see anything but low-level foot soldiers manning the gates.”

It turned out we didn’t even need the high-powered scope to figure out what was going on.

As we drove to Fiesole, something odd happened.

Police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances zoomed around us, sirens blasting.

“What the hell is going on?” Massimo murmured.

We were several miles out when we spied the orange glow against the night sky.

“Is that where I think it is?” I asked.

“…yeah,” Massimo answered in shock. “I think so.”

Giorgio drove into a neighborhood on a hill opposite the Agrellas’ compound, and we all got out of the car.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke.

Even without the rifle scope, we could see their entire mansion was ablaze.

Not just a part of it; every single section of the house was on fire. Flames leapt from all the windows and roared along the roof.

The only way that could have happened was arson.

“You think anybody made it out alive?” Massimo asked.

“I’m going to say ‘no,’” Lars said. “And I’ll bet good money it wasn’t the fire that killed them.”

We all stood there in silence…

Until I said, “I think we better get back to the warehouse. Now.”