He spins the dial to see what she is holding. Just when he gets it focused, she puts it away. He pans up to her face. She looks lovely with her hair now spilling lose. He has not seen her face in many years. He admires her beauty for a second. He looks across to the man she is talking to in what appears to be a very lengthy conversation. He crosses his legs slowly on the top floor on the Albergo.
Salvatore Moroni sets his binoculars down on the Italian marble table. His bodyguard leans down suddenly with the flick of flint. Salvatore sucks on his cognac dipped cigar and exhales slowly. One thing this crime lord has learned is the value of patience. He waves the body guard away and brushs one giant ruby pinky fingered hand across his crisp Kiton K-50 pinstriped pants. He lifts back up the cigar and blows out a smoky wisped whispered word in thick Italian.
" Principessa."
Sal snaps his finger. The body guard scrambles back out to the terrace.
"Yes boss?"
"Make a few calls. I want to be sure the Camorra get a present from me from the Stidda while I am visiting. Order a few cases of my best cigars and wine and have them sent over now."
"Yes boss."
Salvatore waves the burly guard away and finishes his cigar deep in thought. He stares out toward the direction of the sea. His mind travels back to his childhood. To the old country. He recalls playing bocce out in the alley behind his father's estate with some of the local children when he hears loud shots and his body guard grabs him and takes cover behind a car.
He was too young then to realize who had called the hit. He was just glad that he was still alive. He was too young then to know what his father really did. He only knew people loved his father. They came to him for help. His father was generous, his father was fair. People from all over came to visit. They would all kiss his hand. He did however realize that with that also came consequences and someone had tried to kill his father.
Young Sal was his father's favorite son. His father had hoped unlike his older brother who wanted very much to be a part of the family business that he would not have to know the darker side of the trade. He saw in the boy's eyes so much goodness. It would break his heart to ever turn an angel into a devil.
He encouraged both boys to learn a decent trade. To learn wine-making. Sal had made him proud yet again. His vineyard became one of Italy's most reknown. One night after the women had gone into the kitchen to clean up, he along with his older brother and Uncle had sat up late talking and drinking. It was the first and the last time he heard everything explained.
The boy had asked about their past. Tell me how you grew up. Tell me about grandpa and grandmama.
His father has said "It all started around 1812. Back then only the royalty owned the land. There came a huge war when they abolished primogeniture. The land now would not be heired . They did away with all the land seizures. Too many people were losing their land to the nobles. They made it so that their land could not be siezed to settle debts. The last thing they changed was that one fifth of the land would become the private property of the peasants."
His brother added "That's where grandpa came in."
The father frowned.
"Ohh sorry Pahpah."
Their father had cleared his throat and continued " You see the people thought at first it would be easy to just go back and get what they had been returned or keep what is there own but war broke out over rights. The town could not enforce, police it, bandits would pillage. Small villages heard rumors of two brothers who were not afraid of anything. Two men who would get things done. These two men could settle the disputes. These men would hunt down the theives. The best part was their terms.
Their father looked toward the Uncle as he grabbed a drink and waved his hand for him to finish.
The Uncle scooted his chair up and slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose " There terms were simple. A pardon from the theives and a fee for the victims."
Sal had asked "Why a pardon?"
The older men had laughed.
"Because stupid. Most of these thieves were their friends. It is best remain neutral to both sides. You never know when you need a friend."
"I see." young Sal had said.
Then the Uncle looked at him seriously. "You can never break your word from the family. It is this thing that is ours. We are men of honour for we do what others cannot not. To turn on a brother means you are now alone. You will never be welcomed back into the fold. Our Omerta is silence is golden. You never break your word. You would rather die."