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.