‘’Did you get anything on him?’’ Giovanni referred to the boy who delivered the cocaine package at his doorstep.
‘’Not much. He was completely covered up and the staff wasn’t familiar with him either. But…’’
The hesitance in Michele’s voice raised curiosity in Giovanni. He parked the car on the curb and turned the engine off. Giovanni’s head turned to the side, waiting for Michele to finish his sentence.
‘’He entered and exited the building through the back.’’
His lips fell into a flat line at the grim news. The muscle of his left eyelid twitched and his jaw ticked. Blue eyes turned into a darker shade, fury and betrayal to be seen in them.
It was an inside job.
‘’Did you see who let him into the hotel?’’
‘’The boy already had the code and key.’’
That’s impossible. The only people who have access to the codes are higher-ups and the only ones with a key are me and the Don. Giovanni raked his fingers through his hair, a few short strands falling along his forehead. Fuck. There really is a goddamn rat like Uncle Antonio suspected.
‘’Have you told anybody else about this?’’
’’Technically, no. I watched the footage with Capo Leone.’’
‘’Keep it like that. I don’t want to hear anyone speak a single word of it.’’
Giovanni did not want the information to leak to others. He had to be one step ahead of the traitor if he wanted to catch him. Acting as if they were in the dark about it could the advantage they needed against the traitor.
Where to even start? Anyone could have given the kid the codes but the key, now that’s something else. Nobody gets in the Don’s office if he himself isn’t there. Stealing or making a duplicate would be nearly impossible. So that leaves me.
‘’Are we going or…?’’ Michele tilted his head.
‘’Fucking hell,’’ Giovanni muttered when realisation hit him.
It was that time someone broke into my home. Nothing was gone and everything was in the same place. The little fucker made a duplicate.
Michele blinked at his captain, surprised to hear him cursing as it was unlike him to do so.
Giovanni breathed out, hoping to stop his blood from boiling over. ‘’Let’s go.’’
The rat would have to wait in his mind as the hitman problem took priority at the moment. It was the sole reason why he had come to the port of Naples.
An industrial view got shown to the two men as they stepped out of the car. Cranes and containers taking up most of it. The air a tad cooler and noises from the seagoing vessels were heard left and right.
Giovanni spotted one of the stevedores taking a break off to the side and headed in his direction with Michele right behind him. The two of them seemed to have caught the worker’s attention as he looked their way. Since the men were dressed in suits, they stood out like a sore thumb.
‘’Mornin’,’’ the worker said.
‘’Good morning.’’ Giovanni looked him up and down. ‘’I’ve never seen you around here.’’ He raised the volume of his voice to overcome the noise of ships and seagulls.
’’It’s ‘cause I’m new here.’’
‘’So the name Tommaso wouldn’t ring a bell?’’
‘’What! Are you kidding me? Of course I know old Tom! He showed me the ropes and everything. Real nice man.’’
‘’And where can I find him?’’
‘’Old Tom sure is popular today.’’ The stevedore pointed to the back of the port. ‘’He just got here. He’s in the back.’’
Giovanni nodded and beckoned for Michele to come along. As the two walked further into the haven, workers took note of their presence – especially, Giovanni since he wasn’t a stranger to the place. The workers smiled kindly at the made men from the De Rege family. Why wouldn’t they? Every time Giovanni came to check up on the goods, he handed the workers a generous amount of cash to load the cargo into the containers and keep their mouth shut.
‘’Who is Tommaso? I’ve never heard of him before,’’ Michele asked Giovanni.
‘’He’s a middle man and might know who hired the hitman.’’
‘’I see! He’s the guy who knows a guy.’’
‘’You’re a quick learner. It’s a good quality to have, Michele.’’ He smiled.
Pride bloomed inside the soldier at the praise of his captain, making him smile in return. Michele truly looked up to him as Giovanni was one of the made men he often saw on the streets when he was a little boy. Respect, honour and money were the three things he craved for.
Back then, Giovanni would often send young Michele away from the mansion. Only when Michele had gotten older, not-so-legal jobs were given to him by the family for money. Once Giovanni knew Michele was to be trusted, he vouched for him, earning him a spot into the crime family as a made man.
The young man went from being an associate of the family to a soldier under Giovanni’s wing.
Giovanni continued speaking, ‘’I hear Tommaso isn’t to be trusted and will sell his client’s info for the right price.’’
I can finally put a bullet through the person who wants me dead.
A distinct sound sliced through the air. Giovanni stopped in his tracks. The constant noise of the busy port made it hard for him to judge where it came from.
Another loud bang reached his ears.
It was a gunshot. Giovanni was sure of it. He would bet his life on it.
On his right, workers were seen fleeing the site. Their hands on top of their protective helmet and their shoulders hunched.
Acting on impulse, Giovanni ran in the direction of imminent danger. He rounded the corner and his eyes were drawn to a bloodied man on the ground. It was Tommaso.
‘’Go check on him!’’ Giovanni ordered Michele.
The soldier crouched down and pressed his thumb against the veins of Tommaso’s wrist.
’’There is no pulse, Capo.’’
Isn’t that just fucking fantastic?
He cut his gaze away from Tommaso and began looking around for the shooter. A running man wearing a long coat and fedora hat gripped Giovanni’s attention. He sprinted after the culprit, following him into a narrow path in between the stacked containers.
Before the man slipped into another passage, he aimed the gun in Giovanni’s direction. The bullet ricocheted off the concrete ground, creating dust and the bullet splitting into fragments.
A scream of agony echoed throughout the open space.
At breakneck speed, Giovanni spun around to see a bleeding Michele.
The culprit escaping in the meantime.