I took his phone and read the scrawl.
Dante,
I didn’t take you as a man who plays dirty.
Your flyspeck of a territory didn’t mean a fuck to me.
Until today. Attacking my territory? Trying to kill my brothers?
Nice move.
I hope you’ve prepared for war because I’m going to bring it to your door.
Playing dirty is my specialty and I’ll show you how it’s done right.
I’ll make you bleed in ways you never thought possible.
This will be so much fun.
Remo Falcone
“He’s a madman,” Giovanni said. “Causing his wrath will bring us trouble. I assume Rocco did this without your knowledge or did you change tactics without telling me?”
I gave him a look. I would have never made such a stupid move. Remo didn’t play by any rules and he was completely unreasonable. A madman like his father and even more deadly if rumors could be trusted.
“Rocco is a liability.”
“He is,” I agreed.
Giovanni regarded me calmly. “You’re going to remove him from his position?”
I smiled coldly. “Nobody but you and Pietro knew of the plan to capture Fabiano. I prefer it to stay this way.”
“Of course. My lips are sealed. And you know how Pietro is.”
Even if an attack on Las Vegas was pure madness, I’d rather my soldiers think I was behind the insane plane than have them know that my own fucking Consigliere went on his own vendetta.
“What are you going to do with Rocco? Kill him?”
“Not yet,” I said quietly. “Send Santino and Arturo out to capture him and bring him to our safehouse for interrogation.”
Giovanni paused. “What about his wife and the boys? How much are they supposed to know?”
“I doubt Maria will be sad to see him gone from her life. Don’t give her detailed information. This needs to stay within the inner circle.”
“You think he’d run if you called him in?”
I laughed bitterly. “Rocco is a master at self-preservation, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll run as far as his legs can carry him.”
Giovanni raised his phone to his ear. I moved to the window, shoving my hands into my pockets. I’d held onto Rocco for too long. In the past, many of his decisions had been very helpful but in recent years he’d become a liability like Giovanni had said. This would stop now.
I wouldn’t kill him, however. Not yet. There was a reason why we had the safehouse with its cell-like, soundproof rooms. They were designed to keep people caged for a long time. Rocco wouldn’t die for his crimes, he’d live as long as I deemed him of value, and I had a feeling that one day he might be.
I didn’t want to consider peace with the Famiglia, but if all failed a non-aggression pact might be the way to go. Offering Scuderi as a peace offering to Luca would be an option then. I hoped it would never come to it. Yet, no matter how much I hated Luca and wanted him dead, he was a man with values, not many, but the ones he had were ironclad. He was a family man like myself. Remo Falcone and his twisted brothers were little more than blood-thirsty, out-of-control monsters. There would be no peace with them as long as I took a breath.
“Do you want me to join you?”
I’d forgotten that Giovanni was still in the room with me. How long had I been lost in my thoughts? “Yes.”
“All right. Let me say hi to the kids and Val, and then we can head out.”
I gave another terse nod, glad to be alone for a bit. Maybe I had been holding on to certain traditions for too long. Luca had ditched many old structures when he’d taken over as Capo, had even made his brother Consigliere, instead of the man who was designated to have the position by tradition. He’d chosen absolute loyalty and gratefulness over family ties.
The Falcones too had killed many old Underbosses in their territories until only those remained who were as crazy as them and absolutely loyal.
The Outfit was based on continuity. Father always compared it to a clockwork. Every cog in the work had to mesh perfectly for the clock to run smoothly. I’d always considered continuity the only way to guarantee a smooth process. But a few of the old cogs were obviously broken and needed replacement. This would be a long process, a process that would be met with many dissenting voices, so I needed to be absolutely sure of the direction I wanted to take before I made anything official.
A knock sounded and the door opened. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Val. Her arms wrapped around me from behind, her cheek pressing against my shoulder blade. “Dad told me about the Rocco fiasco.”
I covered her hand with mine. “You told me to get rid of him.”
“I didn’t think he’d defy you like that. I only didn’t like him very much.”
“I stand by my choice. I think now that I’ll have to remove Rocco from his position you should become my Consigliere, Val.”
Val froze. I turned around so she was looking up at me. “You don’t know how happy this makes me, but I don’t think this is the right moment yet. Things will get worse before they get better, I can feel it.”
I shook my head. “I’ll do my best to keep the backlash from Rocco’s blunder to a minimum. Trying to negotiate with the Falcones at this point is useless, however.”
“Why don’t you ask my father to step in as Consigliere for now? He’s loyal to this family, to the Outfit, and he keeps a level head. He never lost his mind, even when the thing with Orazio happened. He’s sixty, so it’s an age many soldiers consider respectable for a Consigliere.”
I cupped her head. “That’s something I considered, and maybe I’ll ask him to step in until the Outfit is ready for you.”
Val smiled. “One day they’ll be ready. You’re going to lead us into a modern future. The Outfit needs to adapt to survive.”
I glanced at my watch, wondering if Arturo and Santino had captured Rocco by now. “Can you take care of Maria and her boys today? They might be shaken.”
“Of course, I’ll ask Enzo to drive me and Leonas over there. Anna is over at Bibi’s for a sleepover anyway, so she’s taken care of.” I kissed Val, grateful for having her. Over the years she’d been the rock in my life. She was the one person I could trust in any situation.
* * *
When Giovanni and I arrived at the safehouse, Santino’s black 1969 Chevrolet Camaro was already parked in front of it. He’d gotten the car for his eighteenth birthday from Enzo and pimped it ever since. Arturo’s station wagon was right beside it.
“Arturo’s got a strange sense of humor driving an old hearse as your Enforcer,” Giovanni muttered as we headed toward the doors of the warehouse. We had a safe house in several cities where we kept captives for questioning or ransom requests.
“I fear it’s more for practicability than humoristic purposes.”
The vast entrance hall of the warehouse was mostly empty, except for a dining table, mismatched chairs, and a couch with a TV so the guards could entertain themselves. The screens on the desk were black because we didn’t have any captives in the cells at the moment. Rocco sat on a chair, looking flustered, while Arturo perched on a chair right in front of him with a look of a cat trying not to devour the mouse. Rocco wasn’t in his usual suit but in slacks and a pullover, so they’d found him at home.