◆ The Legacy We Leave Behind ◆
Mariangela, Umbria
◆ MILES ◆
Salvato 75Z.
Tough steel. Heavy. Minimal recoil. Accurate. Durable. Reliable, most importantly.
The cold and smooth barrel glistened as I put my finger on the curved trigger, beaming and staring back at me. Just waiting for my patience to run out. I'd never used this to kill someone.
But that might change today. The selfish bastard gave me this when I finally decided to join SF Shipping and ruin my fate...to his satisfaction. "Just a little present," he'd said.
Well, it was more like an unacknowledged bribe. He seemed glad with my decision, but of course he wasn't as proud as Mamma. To him, working for the family business was my only means of paying off a longstanding debt. A debt I incurred just for being his only heir.
"Boss."
"What?" I glanced behind.
With a lit cigarette between his fingers, my bodyguard stepped closer to me. Behind him stood the other guys I brought along.
These ones might not make it out of here alive. But they knew the risks. Signed the waivers and all that shit. Yet they chose to be here. Maybe they were just bored as balls. Or a bunch of trigger-happy sociopaths itching for some real action.
The blond guy looked deathly pale, though, his hands fidgeting, constantly glancing around my cousin's property with a wide-eyed country boy look. Obviously it's the very first time he'd seen an estate this big.
"Any news from Levesque?" I asked Alessio.
"None."
Our contact at Interpol said Teniente Levesque, the guy heading the Carabinieri task force, was minutes away with his team. Locked and loaded.
But the estate stayed quiet. Eerily silent. The drab weather didn't help.
"Shouldn't we wait for them?" Alessio squinted, his pistol stuck underneath the waistband of his black jeans. His frown knitted his brows and drew some lines on his scarred forehead. Battle scars, he'd said.
The hint of reluctance in his sunken brown eyes reminded me of that day my father hired him to head my security detail. Alessio had a military background, like Pappa. The bastard thought Alei would be the best man for the job—trained, cautious, and pragmatic.
Like the others, he remained wary of my father's capabilities. I couldn't blame him. The fugitive we're hunting down had no problem torturing and killing people in cold blood—plural. And Alessio was well aware of that.
"Who's seen the tunnel? Besides you?" I checked my pistol's magazine. Full to the brim. Just waiting to be emptied.
"Fabrizio."
"You sent him home?"
"Scared shitless." Alei took a drag as he glanced around the labyrinth. "He said he saw the girl running into the the tunnel, carrying a duffel bag."
"And she's blonde now?"
"Yeah, but same description. Same height and everything," he muttered with a faint smirk. "He tried to follow her into the tunnel but ran off when someone fired some shots."
"Great." I sighed. "So, left corner of the basement. Narrow door behind a storage room. Concrete tunnel. Then what? It goes straight into the bunker?"
"Negative." Alei sighed and made a face. "The additional cables still didn't reach the end of the tunnel. They must have put some traps in there."
"Yeah?" I cocked my handgun and headed for the opening. We stood in the entrance of the maze now, the cold gusts shaking the leaves on the thick hedges and tall trees surrounding us.
This labyrinth was older than me. But still beautiful. Sublime. Grand. I couldn't say the same for the inside, though. At this point it must be soiled and rotten to the core—especially because of the scum hiding inside who thought the world should revolve around them and their perpetual greed.
"Send Blondie home," I murmured after glancing at Queasy Country Boy. "Looks like he's gonna barf and pass out."
"Nah. They've been briefed. All good." Alessio stood closer to me. "You wanna go ahead?"
"Why?" I grinned at his worried look which he tried to mask with another scowl. "You gonna stop me?"
"I should."
"Too late. I'm done sitting on my ass," I sighed, walking straight into the maze. I didn't know the pattern by heart. But one of my first life-size paintings included a 3D view of this creepy labyrinth. I remembered enough.
The reek hadn't really changed. Dead leaves. Animal manure. Dewy grass. A whiff of smoke from a burning pile of trash somewhere.
"Sta' dietro a me." Alessio took out his gun and walked past me, his steps barely audible.
[Stay behind me.]
"Don't shoot them in the head."
"Copy."
◆
We reached the hollow part of the maze in just minutes. Cold, stale air. Dead center. Now we're in another hidden part of the estate where we had entombed our past.
The family mausoleum.
Victorian design. Large cross on top. Tall. Imposing.
Decades old but still upright. Ricchar's father had this solid concrete chamber built before Ricchar and I were born. Last time I checked, the old man's corpse stayed buried inside, as well as Ricchar's mother and some remains of our grandparents.
White paint covered the one-storey chamber. Stained angel statues and marble columns stood beside the entrance. Weeds and vines had invaded the edifice. Ricchar's gardener must've been slacking. Or too busy banging the younger maids.
With Alei and the armed guards standing a few feet behind me, I stepped closer to the locked doors. The padlock and thick chains had turned brown and rusty, but the dusty glass windows still gave us a clear view of the inside.
It had been a while. Yet the tombs inside looked the same. Creepy and dingy, but still the same.
The names on the marble headstones gleamed under the sunlight passing through the windows. Considering our religious clan's beliefs, I'd say they'd been turning over in their graves. At least one of them should be for all the fucked up shit my father had done. Quite a long list to go over, but maybe justice and the law would prevail this time.
If I had the keys, I'd step inside to light some candles. Pay my respects for a bit. But I didn't have time to waste. I lit a cigarette and said a quick prayer in my head.
"Mi spiace. Ci ho messo tanto." I stared at the tombs and took a drag, the menthol soothing the nerves in my mouth and throat, lulling the growing urge to empty my gun on someone.
[Sorry. It took a while.]
"But I'm cleaning up his mess now," I muttered just in case one of them was around and watching over us. I tossed the cig aside, grinning at the image in my head. "I hope you're proud of me."
◆
