"The Sicilian Defence"


"Kara sure looked annoyed," Claes commented to Michele as she looked out onto the azure waters of the Mediterranean from the passenger seat of the rented pearlescent white Bentley Azure convertible as it motored along the A1 Autostrada towards Naples.

"She's very…protective…of our…relationship," Michele replied. "And now that you're older than her, I think she's feeling a bit insecure about that relationship."

"She loves you and wants to be with you, Michele. All the girls are like that. So why didn't you just choose her to accompany you?"

"Because, Claes, you're part of our fratello as well and she needs to understand and accept that."

"It's mean."

"I suppose it is, on one level. However, you're the better match for this mission and that's more important than her feelings at the moment."

The mission, Claes thought. Their mission entailed acting as a couple at a grand party given by an old crone from the former Italian Royal House who exercised a significant bit of influence. While there, they would kidnap one Rodolfo Giafoni, part of the Venetian Resistance movement and the Five Republics. He'd been a founding member of Liga Veneta, but when Padania started it's active struggle against the government, he left and joined them. The SWA felt sure he approved the Venice mission back in January and they'd been looking for him for months. He'd finally broken cover in Bologna and one of the Agency sources reported he'd be at the party they were heading for.

"But she's played your girlfriend before and she seems not only comfortable, but actually happy to do so."

"Unfortunately, Claes, many of the people attending the party, including her Highness, are somewhat…narrow-minded. Kara would stand out. And not in a positive way, if you get my drift."

They continued on and exited the A1 onto State Route 145 and followed it along the Amalfi Coast to Sorrento and the Grand Hotel Excelsior Vittoria. Built in 1834 and located in a private park on cliffs overlooking the Bay of Naples, the hotel's guest book included the names of Heads of State and famous entertainers.

Claes stepped out of the car dressed for the pleasant weather in a short sleeve Julianne dress of cream silk with a tan leather belt and white leather T-Strap sandals. Michele wore a striped silk button shirt with navy chinos and white sneakers.

Inside the suite, Claes walked over to an upright piano with a picture on a frame sitting atop it.

"This looks like Enrico Caruso," she noted.

"It is," Michele replied. "Caruso used this suite in 1921 and they named it after him when he passed that August. A number of pieces of furniture here, including that piano, evidently belonged to him."

Claes sat down at the piano, gazing at it. A fan of the classical arts, she owned a number of compilations of Caruso's recordings originally made in the early 20th century. She experimentally tried some of the keys before starting to play. She noticed the sound did not seem as large and rich as the grand piano at the compound generated, but she didn't care, relishing the chance to play an instrument owned by one of the world's most famous tenors.

Michele finished unpacking and informed Claes he was meeting an "old friend" in the bar. She stopped playing and accompanied him downstairs.

They entered the Bar Vittoria and walked out to the terrace. An arm waved to catch their attention and Michele motioned for Claes to follow him.

The owner of the arm rose slowly to greet them, putting out his hand to Michele. When he turned to Claes, she saw an elderly gentleman with white hair and whose richly tanned face struck her as a topographical map etched in leather. His brilliant white silk suit dazzled in the sun as he reached out to take her hand, lightly kissing the top before settling back into his chair, the creak of the old wood mirrored with the creak of his old bones.

"How's the Republic?" Michele asked as he took a seat and Claes sat down beside him.

"It's all fraud and forgery!" the man growled. "Paint slapped over dry rot and gilded with lies!"

"Always the optimist, Angelo," Michele said. He turned to Claes. "Claes, I'd like to introduce you to my old friend and mentor Angelo Trevellin. Angelo, this is my friend Claes."

A hotel staffer arrived and took Michele and Claes' order, returning shortly thereafter with their drinks.

"Quite a beautiful…friend…you have there," Angelo said with a flash of white teeth, causing both Michele and Claes to groan.

"Focus," Michele growled.

"So what can a harmless old grandfather do for you, Pagani?"

"Harmless. That's rich coming from you," Michele replied in a dismissive tone.

Angelo looked to Claes with a pained expression. "See how he wounds me?"

"Claes, entire cemeteries are dedicated to this antique assassin," Michele replied. He turned to Angelo. "How many corpses did you leave behind on that 'site-seeing trip' along the A14 through Emilia-Romagna?"

"Well, maybe nine or ten," Angelo noted. "But that was only because‑"

Michele cut him off with a wave of his hand. "The Lady doesn't need to hear about your lame excuses."

"Actually, 'the Lady' is intrigued," Claes replied, raising her glass.

"Maybe later," Michele said, returning his attention to Angelo. "Do we have confirmation that Giafoni will be there?"

"I have good news and bad news about that," Angelo noted. "The good news is that Giafoni will indeed be at the party. The bad news is that the party has been moved."

"Moved? To where?" Michele asked.

"Sicily."

"Sicily?" Michele exclaimed.

"It seems Her Highness' lumbago is acting up and she doesn't wish to leave her estate in Sicily. So new invitations are being sent – I have yours here," he added, handing over a parchment envelope with gold leaf writing.

"She didn't change the date and time I see," Michele said sourly.

"Social calendars are quite full this time of year," Angelo noted. "Even Her Highness can't just unilaterally change a date."

"Where is the new venue?"

"She has multiple estates, but the party will be held on one along the west coast north of Trapani."

"Bloody hell," Michele cursed. They'd arrived a day early specifically to scope the location out to prepare for the kidnapping. Now they had to get to Sicily and secure accommodations.

"No need to be vulgar, Michele. There is a lady present," Angelo chuckled with a smile. "I've taken care of securing you a spot on the 15:30 ferry sailing from Naples. You'll be in Palermo by dusk and I booked you a suite at the Villa Igiea Hilton."

"I guess that's another one I owe you," Michele noted. "Are you staying in town?"

"I'm at a little place down by the marina," Angelo noted.

Michele reached into his pocket and handed over his room key. "We have the Caruso suite. Enjoy."

"Much obliged, my boy," Angelo said, tucking it into a pocket of his blazer.

"Is Giafoni still in Naples?" Michele asked.

"No. He left this morning for Sicily on the ferry after meeting with a Camorra splinter group known to be supporters of the Five Republics. They were the ones who secured him an invitation to the party and when they told him the new location, I suppose he didn't want to stick around."

"Do we know why he wanted in?" Michele asked.

"No. While her Highness has her finger in many pots, she's never been even indirectly connected with the Five Republics or Padania. That being said, she exerts a great deal of political influence and she controls a not-insignificant fortune so she could be acting as a conduit, providing opportunity whilst keeping her hands clean."

"Hmm…" Michele said, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we'll find out soon enough."

Claes leaned forward, her eyes bright. "So tell me about these 'lame excuses'," she asked Angelo.


"You've lived a more interesting life then you've let on," Claes noted from the passenger seat as they drove the Bentley towards the ferry terminal. They boarded the ferry and were shown to the front of the boat. By evening they arrived in Palermo and made their way to the hotel.

They entered their suite and noted the single king-sized bed.

"I promise not to tell Kara if you don't," Claes offered.

"Deal."


"Good morning," Michele greeted Claes as she came awake. He placed a glass of orange juice on the side table.

"Uh huh," Claes replied drowsily as she stretched underneath the duvet. She propped herself up and drained the glass. "Do you spoil Kara like this?" she asked with a smile.

"Actually she often has breakfast in bed," Michele replied.

"Well I shouldn't let her have all the fun," Claes said, royally pointing a hand towards the menu.


After breakfast, Claes showered and changed into a cream cotton t-shirt and linen-blend shorts with sandals. They spent the day walking around Palermo, doing some shopping and having a pleasant lunch, returning to the hotel in the early afternoon to change. With the party being a black-tie event, Claes borrowed Kara's black silk ball gown to wear, matched with sandals in black satin and Michele wore a bespoke tuxedo.

They followed the A29 along the northern coast to Alcamo, where they took the E933 west to Trapani and then went north along the coastal road to their destination. They turned off onto a private road and approached a large gate and gatehouse. They drove up and Michele handed their invitation to a man in a suit, the clear bulge of a pistol evident under his jacket. The guard read the invitation, compared it to a list of names on a computer tablet, and returned the invitation with a nod.

They drove on down a straight road lined with tall trees. Through the gaps Claes could see tilled fields as well as olive and citrus groves as well as vineyards. The road climbed into the hills above the farmland and they eventually approached a large open paved area and parked before a palatial villa where they exited the car, handing the keys to a valet who took the car to the nearby car park.

Like all great villas, this one had a name, though Michele couldn't recall it at the moment. The main building constructed of natural stone sprawled across 5000 square meters on two floors. As they stepped inside, both admired the terracotta and marble floor.

Claes' eyes were drawn through an open door into a massive wood-paneled library with ornate leather chairs arranged around antique reading tables. They continued on into a massive living room, the walls adorned with ornate murals and frescoes and dominated on one end by a massive marble fireplace. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a well-lit terrace with pergola-covered dining area and the Mediterranean beyond.

They each accepted a glass of red wine made from the famous Nero d'Avola grapes grown in the city of Noto in the Province of Syracuse on the opposite corner of the island, and stepped out onto the terrace. A large crowd mingled on the terrace and down into the pool and garden areas, waiters flitting amongst the guests with drinks and hors' devours. At the far end, near a magnificent stone fountain next to an equally impressive fire pit stood their host, chatting with the Cardinal Archbishop of Naples, who wore the ordinary dress of a Prince of the Church: black cassock with red piping and buttons, red fascia and zucchetto and gold pectoral cross.

"Eminence," Michele said with a slight bow of his head as the ecclesiastical official walked past after the completion of his audience. When he'd passed, Michele leaned over and whispered into Claes' ear.

"He's a real pip, that one. They say he diverts church funds to his brother in a loan-sharking ring. He also took property bequeathed to the Archdiocese to be used as a home for retired priests and instead sold it to a developer who turned it into luxury apartments."

They placed their glasses on a passing tray and Claes placed her arm on Michele's and they stepped forward.

Though the House of Savoy had been formally abolished by Referendum in 1946, the Princess Maria Pia Elena Aldegonda Milenia Ludovica Caterina Francesca Gennara, a small woman who admitted to seventy-five years and all knew that to dispute her accounting would be to risk a summons from her lawyers for libel, continued to carry herself as if Umberto II still actively reigned from the Quirinal Palace. In appearance, she resembled a mummified eagle dug from an ancient tomb with thin hair, shrunken and leathery tan skin, eyes as black as agate and a sharp beak of a nose. Those who entered into the folly of crossing her, however, soon discovered a "curse of the mummy" fate befalling them.

As with many former royals, she had residences and holdings scattered across the peninsula, including the villa in Naples where she normally held court. She also maintained a luxury apartment in Rome for when she needed to be in the Capital, along with estates like this in Sicily, farms in the Abruzzi and agricultural holdings in both Romagna and along the Po valley.

The Princess was as shrewd in finance as she was in matrimony, turning her share of the literal "family jewels" into a plump portfolio, fattened through marriage to two wealthy husbands who, after earning their fortune, did not live to spend it, leaving that…burden…to her. And her bony finger stirred the political waters of every province in the middle of the country. A summons to her table could make or break a politician and those whose arrogance or ignorance ignited her anger found that the flame burned away money, favors and votes when it came time for re-election.

She dressed like a Roman empress and her manner would have earned a nod from some of the more tyrannical rulers of that time. She liked her whiskey from Scotland and her cigarettes from Egypt, the former served neat in lead crystal glasses and the latter on the end of a long, gold holder. She had a scandalous tongue, a dangerous memory– and a fondness for the young. Some remarked—in absolutely anonymity, of course—that she reminded them of the fictional crotchety vampires who paid richly for youthful blood.

In an earlier time, the rich and powerful came to seek her hand in marriage. Now, they came to pay their respects to her power, money and prestige. Archbishops visited to drink coffee and seek funding for churchly endeavors. Staffers from the Quirinal Palace came to offer private reports on behalf of the President of the Republic. Bankers, stockbrokers and industrialists came to pay a reluctant homage and a tribute of secret confidences.

"Your Highness, may I present his Lordship Michele Ferdici, Barone of Sedico, and the Lady Ferdici."

While Italian noble titles were no longer recognized under Temporary Provision XIV of the Italian Constitution, they continued to be used as a courtesy by other European royal families and as an act of defiance by Italian monarchists. And with the abolishment of the Consulta Araldica in 1947, the maintenance of former noble titles, coats of arms and related matters moved under the Heraldic Office within the Office of the Prime Minister. This allowed Michele's fictitious name and title to appear as legitimate when the Princess' Household Staff had filed an inquiry when they could not find him listed in the privately published (but not wholly accurate) Libro d'Oro.

"Welcome," the Princess said in a voice that surprised Claes in its richness. She'd expected something along the order of gravel being stirred in a cement truck.

"Thank you for inviting us, your Highness," Michele said with a deep bow, while Claes provided a slight curtsey.

"And how are things in Sedico?" the Princess Maria asked.

"Well, your Highness," Michele noted.

"It is in Veneto, am I correct?"

"It is a commune located in the province of Belluno in the region of Veneto, Highness," Michele replied. "My family's claim dates back to the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia. When Venetia became part of the Kingdom with the signing of the Treaty of Vienna at the end of the Third Italian War of Independence, His Majesty Victor Emmanuel II acknowledged the family title at that time. We maintain an ancestral palacio on the banks of the Lago del Mis near the border with the Parco Nazionale delle Dolomiti Bellunesi."

"Fascinating," Princess Maria replied in a tone that clearly conveyed her utter disinterest. Michele took the hint and soon excused himself and Claes from her presence.

"What a delightful woman," Claes noted with wry irony. Beyond the terrace lay a massive swimming pool with a disappearing edge, looking as it the pool extended out onto the sea itself. They walked onto the lighted path running through the lush gardens and took a seat on a wrought iron bench cloaked in shadow.

"Did you see him?" Michele asked, referring to Giafoni.

"Yes. He's wearing a tuxedo with a rather brilliant blue tie," Claes replied. "When do we take him?"

"No time like the present," Michele replied. He took the valet slip for the Bentley and handed it to Claes, who dropped it in her leather clutch. She rose and left Michele behind in search of Rodolfo Giafoni.

She found him at the bar and gained first his attention and then his interest. After about ten minutes of small talk she suggested they find some place more private and she went on ahead while Giafoni went to the bar to get two flutes of champagne.

While she waited, Claes removed a perfume atomizer and a handkerchief from her clutch. She took a deep breath and then liberally soaked the inside part of the handkerchief, taking care to keep her mouth closed. When done she folded it over and placed it on the bench, closed the atomizer, and then returned it to her clutch.

When Giafoni arrived, they each drained their glass and set them down. As Giafoni made his move, Claes grabbed him and spun him around, placing her arm around him and pinning his arms against him as she covered his mouth and nose with the handkerchief. Rodolfo panicked and inhaled deeply as a reflex, allowing a large dosage of the chemical soaked into the handkerchief and within moments his body relaxed. She held it to his mouth for a few more breaths and then removed it, placing it into a plastic bag in her clutch.

"Rodolfo?" she whispered into his ear.

"Yes," he replied, his voice a monotone.

"I'd like you to follow me to my car, okay?" Claes asked.

"Yes," Rodolfo replied.

Damn, it really works! Claes thought. Still in "clinical trials", to use the medical staff's euphemism, the drug she'd administered made the recipient susceptible to simple suggestions. She headed for the front and Rodolfo dutifully followed behind. She handed the slip to the valet and a few minutes later the Bentley arrived. She ordered Rodolfo into the passenger seat and slipped behind the wheel. She put the car in drive and headed out.


As Claes was making contact with Rodolfo, Michele headed out the front door, noting he needed some fresh air to the doorman. He walked down until he was out of sight and jogged forward to the closest citrus grove.

Claes drove up in the Bentley and came to a stop. She popped the trunk and ordered Rodolfo to put out his arm. He did so and she stabbed him with a pre-filled pen like those used to inject Insulin, though this one held a powerful sedative. She then ordered him to exit the car and look into the trunk. Moments after reaching the trunk he passed out and Michele shoved him inside, for once thankful of the car's two-meter width, which made getting him inside quick. He covered him with a dark blanket and then dropped into the passenger seat. Claes drove off, noting at the gate that her "husband" wasn't feeling well, offering the guard a knowing wink to imply severe intoxication.

When she reached the coastal road she turned left and headed back through Trapani and then south to Trapani-Birgi airport. Used by both commercial carriers and the military, Claes took the exit for the military side of the facility. The Aeronautica Militare Aviere Capo manning the gate blinked in surprise as the Bentley approached and slowed. His first thought was the driver took the wrong turn-off, the one for the civilian side being about a kilometer farther down the road, however it didn't take the opportunity to turn around, instead coming to a stop right before the gate.

"Good evening, signora," he said as he came forward. The man in the passenger seat handed the woman a leather folio and she handed it to the Airman. He opened it and saw it identified the man as a Tenente Colonello. The Airman immediately snapped to attention and saluted.

"Buonasera, Colonello!" he barked.

"Buona sera, Capo," Michele replied. "If you check your log, I believe I'm expected."

The airman nodded, handed the folio back to Claes, and disappeared inside the guard shack. A few moments later a Sergente Maggiore came out and approached the car.

"Good evening, Colonello. Please proceed straight ahead through the roundabout to the access road then turn left and continue to the hangar."

"Thank you, Sergente."

The Sergente saluted and motioned to the guardhouse to raise the gate and Claes drove forward.

"Ah this brings back memories," Michele said as they passed buildings and open fields.

"Eh?"

"Trapani is one of the forward bases operating bases for NATO's airborne warning and control forces based at Geilenkirchen, Germany. When I was stationed there flying aboard the E-3 Sentry we on occasion would rotate out to this base."

"Uh huh," Claes replied. She continued on until the road ended, turning left and passing a number of empty aircraft parking pads. In the distance they saw a large hangar and as they approached, they saw a white Piaggio P.180 on the concrete apron. For a moment, Claes thought it Michele's plane, but as she pulled up she noticed a thin blue line with "AERONATUTICA MILITARE" on white letters against it.

Jean and Rico stood next to the open door and Jean leaned inside and a moment later Amadeo and Nihad stepped out and came over. Michele ordered Claes to pop the trunk and stay inside the car. He stepped out and walked over to Jean.

"Any problems?" Jean asked.

"Piece of cake. Claes did great," Michele noted. Amadeo and Nihad lifted Giafoni's limp body out of the trunk and carried him over to the plane, loading him aboard.

"Excellent. Spend a few extra days resting, if you wish. Compliments of the Director." With that, Jean turned and motioned Rico to board the plane. Claes backed the car up as the P.180 started its engines and taxied to Runway 31L and lifted off into the night.

Claes drove back to the front gate, took the onramp for a spur segment of the A29 and rejoined the E933, retracing the route back to Palermo and the hotel.

"So I guess we go back in the morning?" Claes asked and Michele identified a touch of melancholy in her voice.

"Actually, the Director invited us to take a few extra days off and I was going to ask if you didn't mind. There are some World Heritage sites I'd like to see and then maybe we could take the ferry back to Naples? I haven't seen Sorrento in ages and I'd like to look around, if that's okay?" Michele asked, correctly guessing she wanted to stay longer.

"I believe I can spare the time," Claes replied with a smile.