Val walked into the cool, dark interior of the restaurant, Dario on his heels, sliding in front of him, giving him a glare. Behind him, Luca wrapped his arm around Biff, putting a knife to his throat, while Quintu casually jerked the gun from under his jacket. They rabbit-walked him inside.
“Do you have any idea who you’re fucking with?” Biff demanded, his eyes trying to adjust to the lighting.
Quintu moved around the room, stopping at one table only, then snapped his fingers. “Wallet.” He had pulled up a scarf that covered half his face.
The man handed it over without protest. Quintu took out the license, made a show of studying it and turned to the woman, snapping his fingers. She gave her wallet to him as well. He did the same thing and then handed both back and pointed to the door.
“Leave while you can. No cops or we come calling and wipe out your entire family. We can find you anywhere, anytime.”
The couple instantly got up, and without looking at anyone else, keeping their heads down, they hurried out of the restaurant. Quintu trailed after them and locked the door, turning the sign to closed. The moment he did, Luca shoved his knife through the back of Biff’s skull and dropped him to the floor.
Valentino had leaned over the counter to watch the woman at the register, making certain she didn’t hit the panic button that would tell those in the gambling room they had unwanted visitors. He smiled at her. “Hi, Alice. Do you remember me? I talked to you a few months back. You were dating Angelo, hoping for a ring, I believe. You would do anything for him to get that ring on your finger.”
He reached out and took her hand, stroking her tense fingers. “I don’t see a ring, Alice. Did you discover he had so much pussy available to him that he didn’t need a wife? He likes to play in his dungeon. You were too accommodating. He wanted you to bring him other women, women who weren’t so accommodating, didn’t he? You did that for him, didn’t you?”
Her gaze shifted away from his, and she nodded. He already knew the answer.
“Val, it isn’t my fault. I love him.”
“No, Alice, you really didn’t love him. You don’t now. You wanted out of the trash life you lived and thought grabbing onto Angelo would give you that. How many of your friends did you deliver to him?”
He kept his voice low. Soothing. He already knew the answer to that. She was sick. She didn’t care about anyone but herself and what she wanted. Again, her gaze shifted from his.
“Don’t lie to me, Alice. I’ll know if you lie.”
“Seven.”
“He tortured them down in the dungeon after hours, didn’t he? With you there. Your friends. Women you grew up with. Women who trusted you. He tortured and raped them with you cheering him on. He recorded those sessions and sells them to his sick patrons, making money off the suffering and death of those women.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew. You helped set up the recording equipment. You can be heard telling one woman to smile for the camera as she was dying. Where are these women held before Angelo uses them, Alice? If you don’t tell me, you’ll be taken to my interrogation room and I’ll let Dario loose on you. You won’t like what he does. It can last for days. Weeks. The pain never stops. Body parts disappear.”
She went white beneath her beautiful olive skin as she shook her head desperately. “I don’t know. He never told me. I would bring my friend to the club and when we were laughing and dancing, they would drug her and take her away. We were upstairs, not even in the dungeon. I never was told where they held her.”
Her voice resonated with the truth. Valentino sighed. He glanced at Dario as he pulled out his gun. Dario knew as well as he did that Alice couldn’t tell them anything they needed to know. Valentino began screwing on a suppressor, not wanting to alert those down below, but Dario simply pulled the trigger twice and then turned toward the interior with the other four men who had been eating there. They were part of Miceli’s guard. He lifted his gun again. Luca and Quintu added their bullets and all four men went down.
Quintu immediately cleared the register, but then went into the back office to the safe. He dropped down on his knees on the plush red-and-gold carpet and began to work on the combination lock. Valentino’s men crowded behind Val and Dario as they started toward the wine cellar.
“Everyone in place?” Val asked, using the wire in his ear.
“Back door has been breached. We’re in,” Romeo Vitale answered. “Sir, this room is filled with money. Stacks of it. We’ve got about twenty sinners.”
“Anyone that is a significant player?”
“I don’t think so,” Romeo said, but there was a question in his voice.
“Tore Vitale? You have an opinion?” Val had to rely on those there.
A small silence followed the question. “There is one man both of us are considering. He’s sweating like a pig and keeps looking down the stairs toward the wine cellar like he thinks someone is going to save him,” Tore said. “But none of them are giving much away.”
“Kill everyone but him.” Val gave the order.
He wasn’t going to wait for one of the Ferraro family to second-guess his men. He had to be able to rely on them. Stefano and the others couldn’t always be with him. His crew needed to be discerning. Romeo didn’t trust his own judgment, but he felt the same way Tore did. Tore laid it out there. Neither man had a lot to go on, but at least they made a decision. Val was looking for leadership in his capos. Both Tore and Romeo were young, but he saw good qualities in them.
He started down the staircase, avoiding the narrow one that led to the wine cellar. This one led to the offices and the storehouse where all the walk-in refrigerators were, the giant shelves for breads and pastas and whatever else Miceli wanted stored. Behind the pantry doors was his real operation, the counting and bundling of his money.
Dario opened the pantry doors and went through to the back room first. Dead bodies lay on the floor in a river of blood. It should have bothered Val, but it didn’t. These men knew where that money came from and they didn’t care. As long as they got their cut, they were happy and kept their mouths shut. He glanced around the room. There were seven long rows of tables that went across the room, a chair every two feet for these men to sit and count the money, stack and band it for Miceli.
The money went into a floor-to-ceiling vault behind an iron gate, both of which were open. The vault was already neatly crammed with banded bills.
“Holy fuck,” whispered Luca. “This is going to hit Miceli hard.” He grinned at Valentino. “Really hard.”
“Start filling those sacks.” Val indicated the deep white canvas bags stacked to the right of the vault, clearly used to transport the money to other places. “Move fast. We’re running out of time here. Get as much as you can. I’m going downstairs to greet our good citizens. If there’s anyone of interest, we’ll nab them up and take them to the room; otherwise, we’ll just kill everyone and burn this place to the ground. You’ll only have about five to seven minutes so work fast or the money goes up with Miceli’s restaurant.”
“You got it,” Tore said. “Move, boys, you heard Don Saldi. Clean out the vault and everything off the tables. Put the sweaty pig in the car. Make sure you gag him. He seems to like ball gags. He’s got three of them in his pocket. Use one of them.”