Author's notes: Hello, hello! Apologies the delayed chapter! Not to fear, I am intending to finish this thing. I was caught up with work and the heat wave that affected the East Coast. Anyhow, here it is. The next chapter will be the final showdown.
In the meantime, I am formally announcing a sequel to follow. I probably won't start posting it until early 2024, so be forewarned. However, I have created a little poll for loyal and interested readers on my FF author page.
FF's formatting is weird, so look at the VERY TOP of the author page, and you'll see the poll.
The Fab Four (Luigi, Daisy, Mario, and Peach) and the Brobot Boys (Yoshi, Miles) are a given for a return, so I haven't included them for that reason. Rather, this pertains to the secondary characters. If there is a character or there are characters whom you'd like to see return, please vote by October 2, 2023 by 11:59 PM PACIFIC TIME. You can choose up to 4 characters. Message me if you have any questions or difficulties voting.
Chapter 60: Two Fathers, One Son
"Sonofabitch!" exclaimed Yoshi as his chin smacked the granite surface behind the pillars of the Low Library. Next to him, Mario and Luigi each pulled their girlfriends underneath their bodies to protect them from the drones' gunfire. Matt and Miles made themselves as flat as possible; every so often, they would glance up at DK and José who were exchanging fire with the silver-colored unidentified flying objects. A half-minute later, the group heard an explosion mid-air as DK's third volley of bullets connected with the leftmost drone. Two more drones arrived to engage the NYPD detectives.
As he lay on top of Peach's body, Mario's thick hands tremored from the lack of a gun. "Goddamnit, DK! Give me a weapon!" he shouted.
Alternating between cover around behind the columns and discharging his Sig Sauer, José unholstered his backup and, when he had a split second, tossed it to his colleague, who motioned for Miles to protect Peach as he moved away to shoot at the third and fourth drones. DK slid his backup toward Matt, Luigi, and Daisy; instead of landing at Matt's or Luigi's hand, the gun stopped in front of the auburn-haired lioness's chin. Grabbing it, she wiggled against her appalled boyfriend, pointed it at the fourth drone, and devastated it with two successive shots. Like a Doppler effect, they heard the second and third drones smash and shatter a second after the other, having been destroyed by DK and Mario. Several whimpers and gasps echoed throughout the quad. Miles gently let Peach up from the cold granite to treat any wounded students and police along the green.
Luigi helped Daisy to her feet, eyeing her with a mixture of awe, arousal, and disapproval. Before he could speak, they heard Mario bark, "'Ey, Sfacciata, you ain't keepin' that!" In response, she rolled her eyes and returned the backup to the lieutenant.
Securing it, DK glanced at the night sky once more and asked, "What the hell was that?!"
"Asshole hacker's idea of fun," deadpanned Miles as he helped Yoshi to a standing position. "It's the same guy who shot Sam. I'm not sure who he's working for, but he's ... on my level."
"Shit," breathed Matt, running a hand through his sweaty brown hair.
"What do you mean you don't know who he's working for?" demanded the older plumber. "It's gotta be the Crazy Bitch."
The blond engineer shook his head. "No, Mario, I don't think so. He wanted to know where you guys were in the tunnels – after the connector between the Low Library and Uris Hall had been blown. If he had been working for Polina, he wouldn't have needed to know that."
"Not to interrupt, guys," said Luigi, looking around, "but why do I get a bad feeling that Lucas isn't with the detectives?"
DK and José suddenly exchanged a worried look; the former took off in a sprint toward Amsterdam Avenue, only to skid to a stop a few feet from the detectives' motionless bodies. "Fuck!" he screamed. Turning around, he saw, Luigi, Daisy, Mario, and the others running toward him. "Motherfucker got away!" Approaching the corpses, Daisy, Yoshi, and Miles pivoted in the opposite direction to avoid the grotesque sight. Luigi enfolded his girlfriend in his arms, kissing the top of her head in an attempt to allay her distress. DK kicked a stray rock, directing its trajectory into the well-maintained grass. "Now we need to find him in addition to Polina Lepeshinski and George Kariolis. Goddamnit!"
Taking a moment to glance at the uncovered bodies, Mario murmured, "It's aight, DK. We'll find 'em – all of 'em."
Even as José resolutely nodded his agreement, the incredulous lieutenant stared at him. "Mario, you're not a police officer. A sergeant in the Special Forces, true, but you can't enforce the law. I'm already in deep shit as it is from the ruckus that's occurred tonight. You think that 1PP's gonna just go along with a couple civilians chasing a crazy bitch who's blown up part of the underground of Columbia University and conspired to kill or actively killed at least four people!"
Mario dramatically looked around and behind him. "Well, gee, DK, I don't see any guys from 1PP here. I don't see the fuckin' mayor here, either. However, I'll tell youse what, I make one fuckin' phone call to Springfield, Massachusetts, and a shitload of Special Forces guys will be here in just under three hours. We'll do the NYPD's job – no problem! As for the mayor? He can get fucked, too."
"Don't!" yelled DK, raising his index finger. "Don't you dare, Mario!"
"Watch me," he retorted. "See, when youse start carin' about the welfare of two Bensonhurst kids instead of some rich fuckers' building, let me know. Otherwise, piss off, DK."
The portly plumber stepped around DK and the crime scene – his brother, Peach, Daisy, Miles, José, Yoshi, and Matt trailing – marching toward the hospital across Amsterdam Avenue. "Hey, stop!" DK shouted to the group, which reluctantly obeyed by slowing and halting. "You know, Mario, your fucking father had always been holier-than-thou! I guess you're following in his footsteps. Guess what? Life ain't fair! Nor is it roses and rainbows! That includes our justice system. Every fucking day, I see more black folks get processed or sent to Rikers than their Wall Street counterparts who trade more money and coke than they'd ever imagine! But guys like me, like José, are the ones who, by enforcing the law, keep this shit from getting worse! I want Polina Bowser's head as much as you do! But I don't want her getting off on a technicality or ... or ... the fuckin' Vor or, shit, the Mafia getting ideas! There's a reason why they get off and some pissant H-dealer in the Bronx or Canarsie doesn't. You get me, boy?!" Whereas the others shifted uncomfortably, the older plumber stared at him, unmoved from the man's words. "Go to the hospital; check on Joe, Sal, Sam, and the others. But let me handle this. José, you stay here for now. Trust that I will let you know, alright?"
"Sure, Lou," responded José.
Though he did not speak, Luigi nodded at the lieutenant and, with Daisy on his heels, steered his angry older brother to the hospital.
Pete Morello sat atop a standard hospital bed, a cup of sour-tasting black coffee in his hands. Of the five members of the Wrecking Crew that had been transported to the hospital, he had been treated and semi-released first, as the bullet graze to the upper part of his bicep was, in the doctor's words, cosmetic. Following thirty minutes of cleaning and liquid stiches, the doctor left him to tend to other more seriously injured patients. Throughout the procedure and subsequent wait, the Denver capo asked about the others – Joe Masciarelli, Salvatore Rigassi, Samuel Carlin, and John Bowser – only to be shrugged at by several impassive nurses. He sullenly sipped at the crap coffee; that fucking bitch had injured or, in his first cousin's case, quite possibly killed three members of his family. Pete closed his eyes, a wave of shame overwhelming his senses. He had always vowed never to be like his father, a psychopathic killer whose two satisfactions in life consisted of avarice and fear. Yet to his horror, the caporegime realized he had rivaled Paolo Morello in at least one respect. Now he had to deliver the news of their son's injuries to Gene and Laura, both of whom would be exacting in their grief and demand for reparations.
"Was it worth it?" hissed a woman's voice.
Pete cast his brown eyes in the direction of the sound, leading him to a younger, curly-haired, blue-eyed woman in a purple hoodie, blue jeans, and plumber's boots standing just inside the doorframe of his hospital room. "Maria," he spoke softly. "How did you ...?"
"Robbie McCollough," she stated flatly, crossing her arms. "Once he got youse out, he called my mother. Since she still hasn't been cleared to leave Presbie, she sent me to look in on my father. Lucy will bring her here once they've processed the discharge."
"How is he?"
Her eyes narrowed at him through her titanium glasses. "Resting. He has a concussion and is dehydrated. They're running tests on his immune system to assess any further damage." Pete nodded slowly. "I suppose you think I should be grateful that you helped rescue Papà. You'd be wrong. As far as the Masciarelli family is concerned, it's thanks to Mario and Luigi. Neither you nor 'Father' Rigassi count. So, I'm only going to say this once, Morello: go back to Colorado and stay there. Don't you ever come near any Masciarelli again. And that includes Luigi and Daisy."
Irritated, the older man glared at the spectacled, angry woman. "Be careful, ragazza. Be very careful. I appreciate your outrage. And I'll freely confess to facilitating tonight's events. I blindly followed orders over the welfare of my family, and for that, I'll pay. I am paying. My ... nephew, who helped rescue Luigi, Mario, and your father, is ... in surgery. My own son, Matt, who wouldn't hurt a fucking fly, was nearly killed tonight! I will answer to my wife – his mother! But let me make this crystal clear, Maria: Luigi, Salvatore, Mario, and your father will always be my business. There's a lot you don't know. And it isn't my place to tell you; it's your father's. It would've been your Uncle Mario's, but he's ... not here. Like it or not, Luigi's a Rigassi. He's the Rigassi heir, after Salvatore. And if the latter doesn't survive ... he becomes head of the family. And with ... the majority of the Moranos gone, he's it. He, Fat Tony, and me."
"You Rocky Mountain sonofabitch," she scoffed. "You rescued my father just so ... what? You could control Luigi?!"
"No, goddamnit!" shouted Pete, leaping off the bed to confront the stalwart woman. "This is what I meant – you don't understand! And I couldn't tell you even if you had a small chance of getting it! I am not trying to control Luigi! I'm trying to save him!"
Her eyes morphed from an icy blue into a fearful cornflower. "It's not over, is it? Even if they find Polina Bowser, the mess ... the aftermath ..." He gave a slight nod. "All this because of Father Rigassi?! It's him, isn't it?! Why protect Carlo if this damned family is done?! Or are you still trying to become the Boss?"
Pete gave her a fixed, yet pained look. "Salvatore made his own choices, Maria. Or, at least, however much Our Thing would allow. For any of us. Him, me ... your father, your uncle."
Maria's blue eyes flared dangerously. "My father was never Mafia! And neither was Uncle Mario!"
"They weren't members, no. But ... Carlo always wanted the Masciarelli boys to join, especially ... since Zia Audenzia raised them." Rolling his eyes at her, the capo added with a sneer, "Or did your grandparents lie about that, too?" After several seconds of Maria's stony silence, he continued, "They were as much her sons as Salvatore was. Mario was the next Masciarelli, and Carlo wouldn't have disrespected your grandfather. Everyone knew the reason why ... he was that way. And believe it or not, Carlo had a lot of compassion for him because they both knew that, sometimes, God takes too much. But your father ... was more affiliated than he'd like you, Lucia, and others to know. Joe ... always envied Mario. And he wanted to escape his shadow. Salvatore was, I think, the one who really saw him."
"What, and my mother didn't?" she spat.
"I didn't say that!" he bellowed. "Frankly, I don't much about the relationship between your parents. And I'm not going to speculate. It isn't my place. All I know is that ... your father made a choice. And I'd say that it's self-explanatory."
Maria exhaled, nodding. "And what of Father Rigassi?"
"I don't know. Last I heard, he had been taken into emergency surgery. He lost a lot of blood. He ... saved all our lives. I, uh," he laughed a little, "I didn't even know he'd kept his old Beretta. He's the one who shot Vinny DiScala. We'd have been dead if he hadn't."
"Papà was asking about him ... I'd heard from Cappie that he'd been injured, but I didn't know ..."
"Probably because he, like me, like Joe, all knew that Sal had intended to go with 'em. Yet, against the odds, he was still breathing after a gunfight with hardened New York mafiosi."
The plumber raised one of her brown eyebrows. "And now? He can't go back to the priesthood, can he?"
Pete shrugged. "I honestly don't know."
A knock came at the door frame. Maria and Pete glanced behind them to see Mario, Luigi, and Matt. The former moved to embrace her cousins while the latter's son approached his relieved father. "Dad, are you ...?" Matt asked timidly.
"Yeah, son. It's just a bad cut. I got a few stitches – nothing exciting."
"What ... What about Sam?"
He shook his head. "I tried getting information, but I haven't heard anything. Same with Salvatore."
A medium-sized woman in purple scrubs abruptly entered the room; scanning the chart, eyeing the bandaged Pete, and gazing at the other five people, she barked, "I'm sorry, but this isn't a visiting room. You'll need to return to the waiting area."
"I'm done, ma'am," replied the Denverite with a faint smile. "Doc says it was just a scratch. But perhaps you could help us, please? We're, uh, looking for two others. No one's telling us anything, and they," he gestured to Mario, Luigi, and Maria, "came from Joe Masciarelli's room."
"You're the Columbia tunnel guys," she said with a hint of amusement and annoyance. "Unless you're family, I can't ..."
"We are," insisted Luigi. "Salvatore Rigassi is our maternal uncle. We are his closest relatives and thus decision-makers. The other one is Sam Carlin. He's Pete's nephew. We're also cousins of Sam."
"Christ, it's all in the family tonight," she rejoined sarcastically. "Just ... go back to the waiting room, and I promise I'll come out any information, alright?" Exchanging a resigned look, they halfheartedly obeyed the nurse, with Maria and Pete trailing the forlorn Mario, Luigi, and Matt into the busy waiting room of the ER. Daisy, Peach, Yoshi, and Miles were standing in one of the far corners of the busy space. Despite the renown of the Ivy League-financed medical center, the weekend drinking, driving, and occasional stabbing incidents had already commenced, filling the area of a number of low-income and student patients, family of patients, and police officers. The five people joined the remaining four; Miles was typing something into Matt's tablet.
"We found one," announced Mario. "Joe's resting. We still don't know about Sam, John, or Sal yet."
Miles tilted his head to indicate that they should come closer. "I hacked into their system. Unfortunately, hospitals' software is often so outdated that it's relatively easy to do. Anyway, John's being treated similarly to Pete – clean and stitch. He should be released soon. Sam and Sal were sent to the OR upon arrival. They're probably in surgery, which is why nothing's been updated yet. I, uh, do know that ..." The blond stopped mid-sentence, debating whether to present the information directly or more optimistically.
"What?" demanded Luigi. "Is this about Sam or Uncle Sal?"
He swallowed. "Salvatore. It's ... not looking good. What I did gather from the admission record, he lost a lot of blood. And they thought the bullet or bullets hadn't exited his body, so there's concern over internal bleeding. I ... I don't know if it hit any organs. Sam's wounds, if I remember correctly, had clear exit patterns and were largely surface level."
"Fuck!" Mario rasped while running a hand over his mustache. Peach rushed to comfort him, which he returned by pressing his forehead into her neck. "I tried, Peaches ... I tried to get him help, I tried ... And that bitch's still out there with Wendy and Louie!"
"Mario, you're a good leader," Pete immediately answered, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You and Luigi got us out of that hellhole. You couldn't have done better."
"He's right, amore," whispered Peach. "You and Luigi saved Joe, Pete, John, and gave Father Sal a fighting chance. Miles, Yoshi, Matt, and Daisy, too."
The nurse in the purple scrubs reappeared from the double doors, approaching the fretful group of nine. Seeing her out of the corner of his eye, Miles hid the tablet screen by pressing it to his chest. "Which ones of you are Salvatore Rigassi's next of kin?"
Mario and Luigi traded a brief, apprehensive look before the latter spoke, "W-We are. M-Mario and Luigi Masciarelli. He's our maternal uncle."
She nodded, guiding them to the side for privacy. Once they were separated from the others, she began, "The surgeons are trying to remove pieces of the bullet or bullets near his second and third ribs. Thankfully, they missed his lungs and heart. It'll be touch and go for the next thirty-six hours, depending on the extent of the damage to his body. That I don't know yet. I assume we have your permission for a blood transfusion?"
"Yeah, absolutely," affirmed the taller man.
Giving a last curt nod, she guided them back to the group. "Sam Carlin's next of kin?" They watched as she repeated the same with Pete and Matt, whose formerly tight faces relaxed at, presumably, positive news on the man's recovery. As the nurse disappeared past the double doors, Pete and Matt returned to expectant faces. "He's going to be alright," explained the latter. "The bullet hole in his shoulder was clean; they were able to stop the bleeding and stitch him up. The bullet grazed his cheek, so he'll have a slight scar, though nothing worse than a cut. He'll be moved into the recovery room in a few hours. What about Salvatore?"
"They're workin' on him. Bullet hit near his ribs, I guess," muttered the older plumber. "He'll probably be in the ICU for at least a day, maybe two. Best case scenario." Pete winced, though he did not speak.
"So, what happens now?" inquired Yoshi tiredly. "With Bowser, Sam, and Salvatore in the hospital, and Polina and that fuck Lucas out in the wild, we don't have much of a ..."
"Wait," interrupted Pete. "Lucas is gone?! Where the hell did he ...?"
"Yeah, the fucking piece of shit escaped – twice," Matt bit out. "And we don't know precisely where, although I have a sneaking suspicion that if we find Polina and George Kariolis, we'll find him."
"Goddamnit!" the elder man quietly swore. "We're down three guys and we don't have any more guns or ammo. I know of a stash in Newark, but it'll take hours to get to it, assuming that Vinny or Jackie didn't get to it first."
Peach crossed her arms indignantly and, eyeballing her spouse, brother-in-law, Pete, Miles, and Yoshi, and growled, "You're not seriously going to confront her again! Are you bloody daft?! You barely survived tonight! And you heard Lieutenant Kendricks – you're not to do police work for the bloody police!"
"Cristina, with all due respect, I owe it to Gene, my sister, and Sal to see this through! If we don't get Polina, then neither the LCN nor the NYPD will be able to stop her. What happened at Columbia was a fucking taste of what this bitch's capable of doing. You want to see a repeat in Bensonhurst? In the rest of Manhattan?!" She shifted her blue eyes away, to which Pete affectedly nodded, "Yeah, I didn't think so. Mario, I know where you stand. But the rest of you don't need to be involved. I'm," he looked at the determined soldier, "we're about to violate a direct order from the NYPD. That's jail time. See, I'm a captain in the Thing of Ours, so I don't give a shit about the cops. But the rest of you aren't part of that world. Luigi, Yoshi, and Miles, it's your choice. However, Cristina, Daisy, Maria, you're absolutely staying here." Before they could object, he raised a hand. "Call me a misogynist pig later. Cristina, Joe's your patient; you need to be here. Daisy, speaking as a practicing attorney, your law career would be ended before it could ever begin if you come with us. And Maria ... I'll do as you had requested of me. Matt, you're also staying here."
"Dad, I can do this. I know it's part of the life, I can ..."
He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Matt, I know you know. But I don't ever want to be your Nonno Paolo. He didn't care about whom he risked, even his own son and daughter. This isn't Denver; these are stone-cold New York killers. Russian killers. I still have to answer to your mother. You gotta be here for Sam, for your aunt and uncle who can't be here. It's an order."
"Yes, sir," he murmured disappointedly.
"Good boy," Pete affirmed with a slight nod and smile. "It's not about your abilities, son; it's about mine as a father."
Yoshi, Luigi, and Miles eyed each other, then stared at the group. "The Brobot Boys are in," declared the physicist. "I've always spoken for us, be it in a robotics tournament or in class with the Professor. While I generally respect law and order, in this particular case, if we don't act, then not only do Polina and Lucas win, but they may moreover cause irreparable harm to Brooklyn and to the city."
Luigi's eyes hesitantly darted to Daisy's hurt and betrayed amber orbs. Whereas Peach hissed several choice nouns and adjectives in Italian and French at her lover, who in turn pretended to ignore her, Maria crossed her arms once more. "Okay, so which one of you would like to explain this half-assed plan to Giuseppe and Lucia Masciarelli? Because I'm not telling them that their adopted son, whom we just got back, is saddling up with his macho-idiot fratello and Mafia Morello here in some fucked-up, B-movie mixture of Tombstone, Die Hard, and the End of Days to antagonize a psycho Russian bitch-from-hell who could blow up half of New York City."
"'Ey, you got a better idea, Ms. Know-it-all?!" interjected Mario to his glib cousin.
Miles coughed uncomfortably into his right fist. "Well, it could be worse." They turned to him questioningly. "The, uh, aforementioned fucked-up B-movie could've been directed by Michael Bay or Mel Gibson." Although Matt and Pete stifled a snicker and Yoshi shrugged, Maria, Peach, Mario, and Luigi rolled their eyes at him. Daisy shook her head and, to the stunned reactions of the others, stormed out of the waiting room, proceeding to the exit.
"Sweetie!" she heard Luigi's voice cry out, yet she snubbed him, slipping out of the automatic doors. Footsteps rapidly approached and, a moment later, she felt her body rotated one hundred eighty degrees and a pair of dry lips slammed against hers. She felt masculine thumbs frame her cheeks; her mouth opened a little, enough for the plumber to deepen the kiss until they gasped for air. "Cat-face," he whispered, his blue eyes connecting with her angry brown ones, "I won't apologize for wanting to protect you. Your career. Know why? Because I already saw one – no, two – members of my family get shot tonight. Mario, Uncle Joe, and I almost got whacked by Vinny. Yoshi, Matt, and Miles? Nearly killed by fucking drones! And then ... those fucking things shot at you! If I lost you, Daisy Abravanel, then ... it's like losin' my parents all over again. No, it'd be fuckin' worse!" He swallowed, emphatically shaking his head. "And I can't go through that. So, I'll take the coward's way out and keep you here."
"Dio!" she moaned, wiping at her eyes. "I know I'm being selfish, that it isn't about me, but... this is my fault. I brought Lucas. I brought him because ... I hated how powerless I felt! You, down in those tunnels. Me? Just sitting with my parents in a hotel suite eating halva?! What's the point of being a lawyer?! What could've I done, file a fucking motion to –"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Luigi cut her off firmly, yet sympathetically. "Enough a-that! This is not your fault! Lucas would've found a way to screw us over regardless. He's good at that! At least you gave DK, José, and the police a way of tracking him! You also kept the crowd calm, a student body that, by all intents and purposes, could've made things far more difficult for everyone involved – the police, the firemen, us. And ..." he stroked her medium-length auburn hair, "as much as I hate the thought of you being in danger, you saved my life. But I need you to be here – safe and alive."
"What about my need?!" she suddenly yelled, causing him to recoil and flinch. "Did it ever occur to you, kerido, that I need you to live?!"
He abruptly smiled. "Yeah, though are you sure? 'Cause as pissed off as I've made you ..." At her outraged stare, he chuckled. "Sorry, cat-face. I know, and I will. Remember what I said? I'll never break my promises to you. Not ever."
Closing her eyes, she sniffled against two hot tears, which Luigi moved to brush away with his thumbs. "Just ... don't ask me to wait by the phone. I don't ... do well with inaction."
"I don't intend to." Chuckling again, he spoke once more, "I think, by the third or fourth date, I knew that ... Daisy Abravanel does not just sit on her chaise, all prim and proper. I certainly knew it when you kicked the shit outta Bowser. I don't always agree, but ... that is a part of you. And I think I get it better now – in a world where we're given very little active control, you seize the small amountthat you can take back. Of all of us, I think ..." He laid his forehead upon hers. "I read somewhere that we gravitate toward what we know. In that way, you remind me of ... a certain crazy-ass Italian who spent twenty-odd years with New York's Bravest. And I love that about you, cat-face, inasmuch as it scares me. Just don't go signing up for Fire School, aight? 'Cause that'd be a dealbreaker." Snickering between her tears, she nodded. "You aren't going to be waitin' by the phone. I'd never ask that of you. And Pete's wrong, at least somewhat – you, Maria, and Peach have every right to be included as Miles and Yoshi do. Still, I'm not willing to put you in harm's way." As Daisy opened her mouth to speak, Luigi moved his fingers to indicate that she should wait. "That's my hard line. Not because I don't think you're capable, but because ... I value you more. I'm just a plumber, sweetie; I can afford to get my ass slapped by the NYPD. And Mario doesn't give a fuck. You can't afford to miss out on Harvard or Stanford."
She bit her lip and pouted like a small child. "You're not just a plumber, Luigi."
Grinning at her once more, he bent down to seize her lips in a soft kiss. "Once this shit is over, we'll go upstate for a weekend. You and me. Hiking ... a very soft bed ..."
Daisy hummed appreciatively. "It sounds like you have plans, kerido."
He flashed her a lascivious grin. "I do. So you can bank on me coming back. Aight?" Without waiting for her answer, he gently took her hand and led her back inside the hospital, walking past the group. As Mario quizzically looked at his brother, Luigi signaled that he would return. Then he tilted his head at Maria who, shaking hers in disapproval, approached them from the rear. Glancing in either direction for errant nurses or hospital staff, she guided them down the stark-white hallway to her father's room. The elder plumber was covered in light blue knit blankets, an IV line was injected into his wiry right arm, and a decade-old pair of brown- and black-framed glasses were draped over his Roman nose. Luigi and Daisy began to retreat, believing him to be asleep, when he rasped, "It looks worse than it is. It doesn't hurt."
Maria glared at her cousin meaningfully before leaving him and Daisy to speak with Giuseppe. The latter's tired blue eyes followed Luigi's every movement – directing Daisy to sit in one of two free chairs next to the bed before taking the other and grasping her hand once more. "Hey, Zio," whispered the young man.
"Figlio," he replied wearily. "Where ..." he swallowed, then pressed on, "where are the others? Tell ... Tell me the truth." He watched as the couple exchanged a look, which he, as a long-time married man, recognized – a wordless discussion between spouses on how much information to divulge. "Cut the bullshit, the both-a youse ... tell me!" he demanded once more.
Luigi let out a ragged sigh, knowing that his uncle would keep badgering him until he answered. "Mario, Maria, Yoshi, Matt, Pete, Miles, Peach, Daisy here, DK, Bowser – they're all fine. We also found out tonight that my second-in-command, José Hernández, is a UC for DK's task force. Apparently, they've been watching the union for some time now. And Zia is coming a little later. She, uh, sustained a concussion when Polina attacked Peach's apartment, but she's doing better. Lucy's waiting for Presbyterian to discharge her. Nonna, Uncle Tony, Zia Maria, Addy, Paulie, and Giulio are comin' in the morning."
Without taking his piercing sapphire-colored eyes off either his adopted son or the latter's girlfriend, Joe nodded. "And ... S-Sal?"
The younger plumber chewed on his lip and squeezed Daisy's hand, neither action going unnoticed by the elder man. "He's ... still in surgery. The, uh, bullet or bullets hit a couple ribs. They said it'll be touch and go ..." He shook his head, unable to voice the rest.
Joe turned away to stare at the ceiling. The room fell silent for several minutes. Incapable of facing his uncle in light of the grim news, Luigi put his head down and lost himself in a mental debate over whether to tell him about their rematch with Polina. Eyeing both introverted, pensive plumbers, Daisy noticed that the spectacled man was studying an old scar in the palm of his left hand. Remaining immobile so as not to disturb his train of thought, and with a mixture of alarm and curiosity, she watched the man wipe his moistened eyes. "I knew this fuckin' day would come," he finally spoke, causing the younger man to raise his head. "Mario and I had hoped that ... sending Sal away would save him. It wasn't his fault – he was forced to become a killer by that evil motherfucker, Carlo! Him and fuckin' Tony DiScala and Paolo Morello used ... me, Mario, and Gabby to get to him. And ... bein' who he was, it was even worse, figlio. They caused this whole fuckin' thing. And it ain't fair – Carlo will die peacefully in a fuckin' prison bed while Sal's gonna ... !" He sniffed, twisting away from Daisy in particular. "Sal ... He never deserved this. But he's ... still part of that world. And there are generally two outcomes for the so-called men of honor: prison or death. And for the people around them? Nothin' but misery."
"How did Vinny know about ... youse? You and him?" asked Luigi quietly. Upon realizing the implication and emphasis of her boyfriend's question, the auburn-haired woman froze, momentarily stunned.
He sighed, glancing at both Daisy and his nephew briefly. "I don't know. Mario knew ... how, I think. Gabby knew a little less. Neither would tell me the whole story. Sal was equally tight-lipped. By that time, I was dating your zia. I, uh, proposed to her in late-February of '83. Sal was already gone, and I didn't see him again until your mother's funeral. He stayed clear of me, wouldn't even talk to me until ..." Daisy and Luigi waited patiently for him to swipe at his eyes once more and continue. "We, uh, didn't speak until he was assigned to your school, figlio. And," he flashed a rueful smile, "the fucker sided with Mario every time, sometimes just to spite me. Nonetheless, he was good for you, I think."
"Zio, I ..." he began, yet was interrupted by Giuseppe's resigned blue eyes.
"I know you're going with your brother, Petey, and the others. I may be stuck in this hospital bed, but I ain't blind or dumb." He closed his eyes. "That bitch needs to be stopped." Then he swallowed painfully against the building lump in his throat, "If Sal p-passes, I don't want his death to be in vain. I couldn't live with that. Just ... promise me, figlio mio, that you'll come back to your family. You and your brother. I can't bury you or another Mario."
"Yeah," he breathed, nodding. "I promise."
"And leave her," he gestured to Daisy with his head, "here. I know she wants to go with youse, but it's just too dangerous. And I guarantee it, her father's pissed as it is."
She tossed them both an annoyed, feline-like glare, to which Luigi snickered playfully, squeezed her hand, and brought up to his lips while mouthing my cat-face at her. "As long as she stays here," he answered.
A man in scrubs with cropped gray hair unobtrusively entered the room. "I need to check the patient's IV," he announced, a Russian accent lilting his speech. Though neither Luigi nor Joe paid any significant attention to the man, the auburn-haired lioness did a double take, recognizing the man; upon meeting his gaze, Piotr send her a pointed stare not to interfere. She remained quiet for the moment, observing his every move: he dutifully examined the bag, inquired if the older man was feeling dizzy or nauseous, and accessed the computer in the corner to record the data. "Are you next of kin for Salvatore Rigassi?" inquired Piotr to Luigi.
Both plumbers' attentions became heightened at the Russian's question. "We both are," interjected Joe from the bed. "What's happened?"
"I only know of Luigi Masciarelli being nephew," he countered in an attempt to speak with the named man privately.
"No, my other uncle, Giuseppe, is as much family to Sal as I am," Luigi insisted before his girlfriend could subtly warn him. "Whatever you got to say, he has every much right to hear it. Perhaps more."
Piotr examined the patient, whose blue eyes had shifted from expectant to grim. "Mister Rigassi is out of surgery. He is in the ICU. Too hard to tell in the future, but he survives for now." Giuseppe closed his eyes and Luigi's shoulders sagged in relief.
"I hope you're not lying about that!" exclaimed Daisy pointedly, crossing her arms. Both men frowned in confusion at the woman's outburst. "Kerido, Giuseppe, I'm sorry, but this guy ... is not who he claims to be. It's one thing to masquerade, but if you're making this up about Salvatore, who was injured ..."
"I am not!" hissed the mysterious man to quiet the hostile woman. "I was there when doctors brought Salvatore Rigassi out of surgery room. He is alive."
Luigi's eyes narrowed at his response, noting that he had not denied his girlfriend's accusation. "Okay, so who the hell are you? Are you one of Polina's or the Vor's ...?"
He faced the plumbers. "Friend. Not with the woman. Not with the Vor. Interested other party."
"The USB, kerido," interrupted Daisy, still eyeing Piotr.
"Okay," conceded the younger plumber. "So, what do you want?"
"Interested other party agrees to help you. We have enemies in common: Polina Lepeshinskaya and Kariolises – father and son. All escaped. But I have tracked down the son. Son leads to father and possibly Polina Yakovna."
Three pairs of eyes widened. "You know where Lucas is?!" voiced the woman.
"Yes. Drone attack arranged to free him. Also, to kill team which entered tunnels. But we don't have time. I think that his father will kill him. He is liability."
Luigi and Daisy exchanged a look while Joe raised his shoulders unsympathetically. "He didn't ditch the phone?" she asked. "I assume you gave it to him."
Piotr raised an eyebrow. "No, he did not. It is curious."
She rolled her eyes. "So, he could be setting you all up. Frankly, the man probably has one brain cell between his ears. But that brain cell is apparently genius at deception and treachery."
The Russian gave a nod. "True. He's either hoping for rescue or for us to walk into trap. Even though we don't have a choice, we can mitigate risks."
Giuseppe rasped, "How?" All three turned toward the stern-looking man, who crossed his arms angrily and scowled at the man. "Look, I don't know who the fuck you are. And I don't know who this fuckin' 'interested third party' is. But in the last seventy-two hours, I've nearly lost my wife, my son, my nephew, his girlfriend, my ... best friend, and his cousins. And, somehow, you've involved yourself with Daisy here, 'cause she knows you. Now, that may not mean much to you or whomever you work for. But I've already lost my brother, sister-in-law, and father. I'm not long on this Earth. I only want one thing – not to bury any more of my family in my lifetime. So, you sayin' that you'll mitigate risks ain't good enough. What the fuck do you want from Mario and Luigi? Why not get the bitch and the Kariolises yourself?"
His eyes bore into Joe's harsh sapphire orbs, causing a contest into who would break his gaze first. However, the stubborn New Yorker refused to concede defeat in any manner. After a little over two minutes, Piotr gave a few slow nods, impressed with the man's resolve. "There are three individuals. And I could get them all. It would be cleaner. But unfortunately, I am not in Russia."
While the older man rolled his eyes irascibly, Daisy suddenly spoke in reference to the man's cryptic answer, "You don't want to be discovered. You'd rather an American or Americans take credit." Although he did not verbally confirm her speculation, the Russian regarded her with an almost neutral expression. "Mafia clean-up, or something like that," she clarified to Luigi and Giuseppe. "It's easier to explain to the international community if it were an internal Mafia affair, given whatever is on that USB."
"Sounds like a bunch-a bullshit to me!" grumbled Joe. "But that's why I'm a plumber, not a fuckin' diplomat."
Piotr cracked a wry smile. "I prefer plumbers to diplomats. Diplomats talk too much and work little. Plumbers work too much and talk little."
"Alright," said Luigi. "But we'll need weapons. The NYPD disarmed us. Mario, Pete, Miles – everyone from the original team's ready."
"Meet in back of hospital – fifteen minutes." At the younger man's gesture of understanding, the Russian operative logged out of the computer and departed the room.
Deliberately, Luigi rose to his feet, his blue eyes becoming pained at his adopted father's and girlfriend's frightened gazes. "Before I get an argument from either of youse, someone has to stop her and the Kariolises. If the NYPD or the city won't, then we don't have a choice. We gotta do somethin', otherwise Brooklyn's gone, and God knows what else she'll do. Plus, there are two scared kids out there who don't deserve this shit. I don't trust this guy, but he may be our only hope at this point."
Sauntering to him, she whispered against his lips, "Go, kerido. I'll stay with Giuseppe." In response, he kissed her, silently promising his lover that he would not only return to her alive but would moreover be by her side for years to come. He then broke away and approached the stoic man in bed, kneeling so that the latter could kiss his forehead and embrace him.
"You heard what I said to that Russian fuck, figlio. I ain't burying another Masciarelli in my lifetime."
"Io lo so ... Papà. And let Daisy keep an eye on you – at least until Zia gets here. She'll also help with ... Sal. I assume Peach will also be here."
Joe glanced at the somber woman. "I guess I can live with that." Pressing his forehead to Luigi's once more, he murmured, "Ti voglio bene, figlio mio. La tua famiglia aspetta. Mario ... ti terrà al sicuro."
He nodded a final time, stood up, and, smiling at them both, headed back to the away team in the waiting room. Daisy brought a chair next to the Masciarelli patriarch who let out a ragged sigh. "It never gets easier, giovanetta. The waiting, I mean. I used to wait with Mario and Luigi's mother when my brother would be called out on a three-alarm – usually more – fire in the Bronx or Washington Heights. The worst time was when he ended up in the ICU for a couple days back in December '83. It was even after most of the Bronx had burned. I guess they figured they hadn't taken enough." She did not react, instead waiting for him to continue. "We kept Mario – Luigi's brother – away. It was too hard to explain to a five-year-old piccolo about his father, y'know? Lucia, who was pregnant with Maria, stayed with him while Gabby and I ... She didn't leave his side, except once to use one of the pay phones. She didn't think I knew, but ... I knew she called Sal. He was out west at the time."
"In Montana," she supplied.
"Yeah. Mario and Gabby kept his whereabouts from me for a couple years. I didn't know precisely where he was until '86 or '87, when I heard that he'd graduated from some small college out there and he'd ... gone into the seminary. He'd started sending me letters about then, but I never answered. I didn't want Lucia to think that I was ... And I didn't want him to come back and be ..." Shaking his head, he failed to finish his thought. Daisy was unsure whether it had been due to embarrassment or anguish.
"That's why Vinny DiScala and Polina took you," she deduced. "To get back at Salvatore. And that's why Luigi was chosen in his place."
"Yeah. Although I knew that he had gone into the seminary, I never thought he'd actually return. But he did. And he was stayin' until that fuckin' Father Rosetti – the neighborhood priest – sent him away in 2000. I didn't know that he had ... kept Sal from comin' back until much later. Fucker thought it was cute to send him to San Francisco. I never got the full story, but there were accusations that Sal was ... inappropriate with one of the boys and even with Luigi! Mario and I were so pissed when we found out that he was being sent across the country – it was all manufactured bullshit. The motherfucker somehow kept him from comin' back ... even right after that day."
Daisy stared at Giuseppe in disbelief. "How could they do that?! That's ... inhumane."
He scoffed, albeit in agreement with the woman's conclusion. "I never knew how, giovanetta. I do know that a few of his parishioners – some rich fuckin' rainbow-flag wavers – and one of the junior priests paid for a bus ticket from California to New York in late October, I think, when shit had calmed down somewhat, between the recovery operation and the anthrax scare. He found me at the Pile. Somehow, he knew I'd be there. Lucia never knew that he had returned to New York. He's the one who told me to keep my faith, that Jackie would eventually give Luigi up to me and ... I'd eventually find Mario." Sighing heavily, he added, "I guess he was right for one out of two."
She nodded, assessing this new information. "I don't know much about the Catholic Church, but this level of ... hostility seems excessive even for them. Even if he were guilty – which I doubt – the Church takes care of its own. My father has friends who work at the Boston Globe and Spotlight, you know? Where is Father Rosetti?"
"Hopefully roasting in Hell. He died a few years ago. That's why Sal was able to become parish priest at St. Rosalia's. Because of those ... accusations," spat Giuseppe, "he couldn't return to New York while Rosetti was there. Sal had, uh, become restless, so he went voluntarily to Paraguay. The Diocese sent for him when the sonofabitch was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer. Sal took over when he went to the hospice."
"Was Father Rosetti opposed to Salvatore because he was Mafia or because he's ...?"
The plumber shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure. But Rosetti had to be Mafia. I don't know how or what he was exactly, but when Luigi and I were being held in Jersey, that little shit's equally shitty Greek father and that bitch apparently let it slip that Rosetti was involved in trying to kill Luigi and Yoshi back in '95."
"Dio!" Daisy swore underneath her breath. "And that's probably how Vinny knew about you and Salvatore. Assuming that I, uh, understood correctly."
He glowered at her, both in a silent warning and incredulity. "Rosetti may be a lot of things, giovanetta, but violating the confessional would have been unthinkable! It's tantamount to ..."
Her brown eyes flashed dangerously, causing the older man to flinch. "Giuseppe, he helped Polina and her little band of psychopaths! He tried to kill a fucking child – children! He lied about Salvatore being a pedophile, and he kept him from coming to you and Luigi after the attacks. Do you really think he'd stop at the seal of the confessional?! My ass!"
As he opened his mouth to argue, an irritated Maria, a worn Peach, a timid Matt entered the hospital room, followed by a worried and angry Harry and Yael Abravanel. The latter two marched over to their daughter and pulled her into their arms. "Puta merda, por que foi com essa bosta?! Minha única filha!" cried Harry in their native Portuguese.
"Papai, eu tive que ir. Mario e Luigi resgataram Giuseppe dos túneis. Porém, Salvatore ... foi atirado. E não sabemos se viverá," she replied sadly.
Harry and Yael gasped and, exchanging a brief look, gazed at the weary, bedridden Italian who was being handed a plastic cup of water by his eldest daughter, while Peach checked his IV and studied his medical chart. Matt observed the interaction between the Abravanels uncomprehendingly, his Italian being of little help to translate the conversation. Clearing his throat, Daisy's father inquired in English, "Where are Salvatore and Luigi? What happened to Polina Bowser?"
"As a lawyer, it's better you don't know about Mario or Luigi," said the older plumber to his counterpart. "And as for Sal, he's left surgery. But that's all we know definitively."
"Christ," he muttered. "And where's that little rat bastard?"
"He escaped," responded Matt in a tight voice. "I was with Yoshi and the firemen when this happened, but Miles and my cousin, Sam, had a run in with some hired gun. Drone attacks. The guy got Sam – he's out of surgery and will be moved to recovery soon. Lucas's father must have hired this asshole because the guy attacked us a second time, which is how he got loose. There's an APB out for Lucas and George Kariolis, so the NYPD's looking for them."
Harry nodded a little, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Yael and I know Daisy won't leave, so neither will we. And I'm getting a bad feeling that we're not out of the woods. If George Kariolis was willing to risk shooting at the NYPD to free his son, in public, at Columbia University of all places, there's no telling what the sonofabitch will do." His amber-colored eyes, full of suspicion, focused upon Joe, who regarded him blankly as he set the cup of cold water on the side table. Maria took a slight, yet visibly protective step toward Daisy's father. "And the reason why I'm getting this feeling is because of Salvatore. I'd like to speak with you in private, please, Giuseppe. Recall that I'm Luigi's attorney and represent his interests."
Daisy's and Matt's eyes enlarged in surprise. Maria, however, bit out, "Like hell, Abravanel."
The two fathers sized each other up for a minute, steely blue meeting fiery brown, after which the older plumber mumbled, "It's alright, bambina mia. Give us five minutes."
"Miha, andá con tu madrasta y tus amigos," Harry ordered Daisy in Judeo-Spanish. "Yo llamaré a vosotros en cinco minutos, claro?"
"Si, Papai, entiendo," she responded flatly, following Yael's and Peach's lead to exit the room.
Matt, who sensed that this could be related to attorney-client privilege, was the next to leave. As for Maria, she gave a final glare to the lawyer to tread carefully with her compromised father. "Five minutes!" she snarled, passing through the threshold.
Harry moved Daisy's formerly occupied chair to sit at Joe's bedside. Inhaling deeply, he began in English, "I wasn't going to address this in front of your daughter or Daisy for reasons that will become quite clear. Following your abduction, Polina called Pete Morello, Mario, Luigi, and Salvatore to taunt them. Especially the latter. She called him an ass-bandit, among other similarly disgusting names. Living in San Francisco and having grown up in the Boston Greater Area, I am unfortunately familiar with the term. And as you know, my wife is from Israel, which has a large Russian-Jewish population. Like it did with Yiddish, Spanish, and Arabic, Hebrew has borrowed words from Russian; that includes insults and swear words. Yael was emphatically clear that the term Polina used – педераст – means 'faggot.'" Though Joe's eyes widened, he chose to remain quiet. "Now, I have a theory. Polina and these gangsters took you to get to him. In turn, one can conclude that the reason why the Mafia's been after Luigi is because of you and Salvatore. It was a different time; I get that. But this has gone far enough, don't you think? You and Salvatore are in this hospital. And something tells me that there will be another attempt, which puts us all in grave danger. Because the Bowsers and this Vinny DiScala – alive or dead – can't take over without Salvatore out of the way for some reason. That's incidentally why she's tried to kill Luigi." Reaching into his leather messenger bag, he then pulled out several pieces of paper. "Shortly before Yael and I left San Francisco, I had my PIs do a background check on your brother."
"What?!" Giuseppe hissed in outrage, to which the lawyer held up a hand.
"It was something Daisy said to me a few months back. It never sat well with me – how Luigi ended up with Jackie Morano. I obtained a copy of Mario's will from probate. The wording is one of the most bizarre I've ever seen: 'It is my wish that if my eldest son, Mario Masciarelli the Third, is unable to take custody of my minor son, Luigi Masciarelli, that the nearest Rigassi relative should assume all guardianship until his age of majority.' After all, why not just name the aforementioned relative? But more importantly, in the strictest and legal sense, Jackie Morano is not a Rigassi. He'd have no legal standing; any half-assed litigator could've challenged his claim and won. Then I ordered a copy of your brother's financials."
"Mario Masciarelli was many things, but he was no fucking criminal!" shouted Joe hotly.
"Yeah, I'm aware of that, now, if you'll please let me finish!" he snapped in return, effectively muzzling the irate Abruzzese. "I know Mario – either one of them – and Luigi aren't criminals. I did a check on all of you; understand, Giuseppe, that I would not allow my only daughter to associate with just anyone. You'd have done the same for your children. Back to the discussion at hand: Mario – your brother – had been talking to a real estate agent. Apparently, he was going to put up the house for sale. He had also put in his papers with the Fire Department – on September 10, 2001. They – he and Luigi – were leaving New York. If he had truly intended for Jackie Morano to get custody of Luigi, I doubt he'd have taken such measures, particularly given who he was, who his father was."
The spectacled man looked down at his hospital blankets covering his thin legs. "Yeah, Luigi told me a few weeks ago," he muttered. "I didn't know why at the time, but ... on September 11th, he wanted to meet me for lunch. That was unusual, 'cause we rarely met during his shifts. He didn't have time off for another week. That's why I was, uh, in Manhattan that morning. I think he was plannin' to tell me. And frankly, I wouldn't have taken it well. I'd have fought him tooth and nail. I didn't and don't care what biology says. Luigi's my son. I raised him! While Jumpman was playin' hero, and Gabby was fightin' for her life, Lucia and I cared for him." Scoffing, he added, "That selfish fuck ..."
Harry gave a slow nod. "Well, the evidence is clear – he was leaving New York. Permanently. When I really thought about it, I realized that none of the immediate Rigassi relatives were actually in New York. Aside from your sister-in-law, who had been deceased for ten years when the will had been written, there were only two: Pete Morello, whose mother was Luigi Rigassi's sister, and Salvatore Rigassi, who was living in San Francisco."
Joe shook his head insistently. "No! He never would've turned Luigi over to Pete. Never! He barred him from Gabby's funeral, refused him any contact with Mario and Luigi!"
He nodded again, this time more pointedly. "I agree. It would seem unlikely, given that Luigi did not know who Pete Morello was until earlier this year. That leaves Salvatore as the only possibility. And though the evidence is circumstantial, it makes perfect sense for three reasons. First, he has the strongest claim as Luigi's maternal uncle and 'Rigassi relative.' Second, Luigi had a pre-existing relationship with him, whereas neither had ever existed with Jackie or Pete. For a family court, be it in Brooklyn or San Francisco, that would have been the preferred option. Third, he was ... a brother-in-law in multiple senses of the word."
"What?" gasped the Italian. "No, that's ... that would've been impossible – Mario would've known that Salvatore is a priest; he could never take custody. And Sal did get into New York. A month and a half after the attacks. He came to see me at the Pile and told me not to fight, to wait Jackie out. And incidentally, the latter threatened me and my family if I fought him in court, which I had every intention of doing. Stuck a loaded gun in my face."
A moment of uneasy reticence fell upon them. Harry bit his lip, debating whether to push the frail man into potentially unchartered territory. "Giuseppe," he began, "I'm Luigi's representative. Currently, I'm trying to build a case to reduce his sentence or, hopefully, acquit them. I have a colleague – a specialist in criminal law – who's ready to defend him and Mario in court. So, my goals are going to be ... different from yours in that I have to examine all possibilities."
The plumber's icy blue eyes bore into the lawyer's determined amber orbs. "Just come out with it, Abravanel. You think Sal willingly surrendered Luigi? Willfully participated in all of this? Well, I got two words for ya: screw you."
"I have to consider the possibility. Either that, or he was threatened with something more than his own life."
"Mine," he concluded. "Luigi's." Unexpectedly overwhelmed by his captivity, the rescue, and Salvatore's unknown status, he allowed hot tears to flee his tired body. Harry fetched a box of tissues, to which he wordlessly shook his head and wiped at them with the back of his hand. "I thought him bein' in the Church ... he'd be safe. I honestly don't know much about what led him to leave, only that it had to be mortal. Carlo would never have allowed it, otherwise. I do know, which is what Daisy and I were discussing when you came in, that somehow, Vinny DiScala – a Mafia caporegime who was helping Polina Bowser – right before Sal shot and killed him down in the tunnels, found out and said that ..." He took a deep breath to put the long, unarticulated secret to words, "Sal was not only ... queer, but that we ..." Sensing his discomfort, Harry gave a single nod to indicate that he had understood. "I don't know how. Sal would never have been public with it. Neither was I. You grew up in Boston in the '60s and '70s; same deal as it had been in Bensonhurst."
"Yeah," affirmed Harry. "I get it."
"Anyway, I'd thought he ran to avoid the cops and FBI. At least ... that's what I told myself. A few months, years later, I'd married Lucia, had a family, got my plumbing business runnin'. He'd gone out west, found the Church. I thought that was the end of it. Until ..."
"The Moranos demanded to be Luigi's godparents," finished the lawyer. Joe nodded. "And that's why he came back ... and why he was sent away again. The real question is why Salvatore's still a threat. Even now, when the Moranos are no more and this guy, DiScala, is rotting in the tunnels. And to whom."
Giuseppe raised his eyes to face the opposing wall and doorway, reflecting upon a long-buried memory. "Sal once told me ... I'd forgotten about this because ... I've tried very hard to forget that period of my life. I'm only tellin' you this because Luigi matters more to me." Harry raised his eyebrows. "We'd started ... bein' together on his twenty-first birthday. He was confused. I was confused. We didn't know how this was supposed to go. No matter what, though, it couldn't ever end up as a marriage or havin' a family. I knew I should've ended it after his birthday, but I ... liked the attention, the secret attention that only I got. And I'd always felt ... safe with him. Anyway ... six or seven months go by, and he'd got this plan in his head where I joined their fuckin' thing and he'd be my rabbi. Rabbi because ... Carlo and the others wouldn't think twice about us being together all the time. He'd get me made, and we'd be, uh, sealed by the Mafia. I said no fuckin' way. Sal didn't take that too well. He started braggin' that he was Carlo's heir. I'd already suspected that, given that Pete's father and Carlo himself forced him into the 'family business.' But it was more – he was created to be the heir in Italy. Apparently, his father was forced to marry Sòggira Audenzia so that the son would be the new bridge between Italy and America. A new sort of consigliere, a power behind the throne that'd be harder to course, this shit was all before RICO laws and cuttin' off the heads to kill the hydra. He told me that once he got the power away from Jackie and the DiScalas, no one would dare tell him that he couldn't have me. Sal couldn't leave, and I didn't want a part of that world."
Harry leaned back a little in the chair to consider what he had been told. "Back at the office, right before Jackie Morano was murdered, I remember Salvatore said something about 'vacating a position for a Rigassi and Campisi.' It sounds like he was thinking of making a run for the top seat. I do wonder if it wasn't to cover his ass. I don't know much about the Mafia, though I grew up with Italians who knew guys in the Patriarca family. What I do know is that ... if anyone found out about Salvatore's orientation, they'd have killed him."
"Yeah," agreed Joe. "And they'd have killed me. Possibly my brother, too."
"Assuming we're not missing pieces, let's say he got caught plotting against the DiScalas, Jackie, or whomever. He'd have fled, been killed, or turned state's evidence. But Salvatore joining the Church would've been a big F-You to the Mafia. Priests can't marry or have sons. But why would he do that if he was going to make a run for the administration? Whose idea was that?"
He chuckled a little. "His. Initially, Mario, Petey, and I helped him leave New York. Pete knew about ... us, but I don't think he'd have dared Carlo. I don't know how Sal was able to leave, not precisely; you'd have to ask either Pete or Sal. He'd decided to join the priesthood in '85 or '86, once he'd finished his degree." Pivoting his head so that they were face to face, he asked, "Hey, would youse – you and Daisy – do me a favor? Look up the name Armando Rosetti. He was parish priest of St. Rosalia's from the 1970s until 1988 or 1989, then Monsignor at St. Rosalia's Catholic School until 2011 when he died."
"Your former priest?" inquired the lawyer quizzically while reaching into his briefcase for a pen and legal pad to write down the name as well as to make notes.
"Yeah. I wasn't there, but at dinner, when he and I were bein' held by the Russians, Luigi overheard Polina say to George Kariolis that Father Rosetti had opposed Sal's return until '95. That was the year in which Luigi and Yoshi were nearly killed by Marco Bowser. I assume she was with that Irish piece of shit, but she couldn't have known about Rosetti and Sal, not without knowing internal Church politics. The only way that could've happened is if ... Rosetti was linked to the Bowsers and Vinny DiScala."
Writing down Rosetti's name on the yellow-colored top page of the legal pad, Harry hummed to himself and his interlocutor. "Interesting. So why did Mario – your brother – keep Luigi at St. Rosalia's instead of sending him to a magnet school? Daisy has told me that he wasn't exactly a religious man."
Joe cracked a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. "That was ... Gabriella's idea. It was a deal they made when she was pregnant with little Mario: each child would be sent to Catholic school until he or she was old enough to decide. She was always a good Catholic, whereas my brother unapologetically committed blasphemy and rolled his eyes through every mass. Mario didn't believe in God, but he did believe in Gabby."
"And Luigi would've received protection from Salvatore."
"Yeah. I also know Carlo took care of business for Luigi. After Marco attacked him and Yoshi, my brother and I were, uh, gonna beat the shit out of Marco and his piece of garbage father, Jimmy-B. Jimmy Bowser was NYPD, which is how his dirtbag son avoided jail time. Carlo's goons got to 'em first. The attacks stopped."
Harry nodded mutely; on his notepad, he drew a long line with smaller ticks and wrote adjacent to them in semi-legible script to visualize a rough timeline of events. "Then enter George and Lucas Kariolis in 2000, when Salvatore suddenly leaves for California. I assume that's when Luigi graduated from Catholic school and went to Brooklyn City High?" Giuseppe mouthed a 'yeah' to his question. "Although I have been distracted by your, uh, disappearance and my daughter's field trip to Columbia, I have been able to do some preliminary research on this George Kariolis. His backstory disturbs me, Giuseppe. He's some sort of investor, yet I can't find any major company for whom he's worked. No investment firm, no hedge fund, nothing. He's got a bachelor's degree in marketing from Fordham and another bachelor's degree from Athens School of Economics and Business, but that's it. I have a junior partner who speaks Greek fluently. He made a few calls to his contacts at the Greek government and got the run-around. That's apparently not unusual, but he's protected by someone very high up. Someone who'd be interested in helping Hezbollah terrorists – at least as a financial endeavor. The Greeks consider Hezbollah a terrorist organization, which is why they wouldn't want this little affair out in the open."
"It doesn't surprise me; we were taken to some ritzy fuckin' place in Jersey. Alpine. I think Lucas said it was owned by some Greek diplomat. So, you're saying he's a fraud?"
"It would seem so, yeah," answered the lawyer. "My working theory is the following: Vinny DiScala formed some sort of association with George Kariolis prior to 1995. How, I don't know yet. Like you, I also believe this Armando Rosetti was involved in the attempted murder. Kill Luigi; neutralize the Salvatore's direct line. And it has to do with Salvatore specifically, otherwise they'd have tried to kill Pete Morello, and there's no evidence that they had ever because Salvatore's line is the patrilineal one? I'm not sure." Giuseppe quietly shrugged, waiting for Harry to continue. "Sometime later, Jackie Morano became involved with Kariolis, probably out of sheer greed. Jackie probably didn't know that Kariolis and DiScala were behind the plan to kill Luigi. If Carlo Morano dealt with Marco Bowser and his father in such a public way, it doesn't seem likely that he'd allow his son to play ball with Luigi's would-be assassins. Around 2000 or early 2001, Kariolis came up with a new plan to control or outright kill Luigi by using his son, Lucas, to pair up with the kid. Now, I found something else in your brother's financials. Shortly before his death, in late-August 2001, he paid for a private investigator, one which had worked extensively with the NYPD and FDNY. While I don't know the specifics of the service rendered, I think he knew something was happening. Then he decided to take Luigi away to California – September 2001. To Salvatore. The one man who could've protected them. Until fate intervened."
Upon finishing, he looked toward Joe, who had covered his mouth with his hands and was quietly sobbing. After a few minutes, he calmed himself down to growl, "That arrogant fuck! That goddamned Sicilian! Both of 'em! They were gonna take Luigi from me! And then Sal didn't even have the balls to get him back from Jackie! I had to find him ..."
"Giuseppe, I don't think that was the case," Harry calmly interjected. "In fact, I think Mario was going to tell you ... in the hope you'd follow him. He obviously knew of your and Lucia's attachment to Luigi, and he may have even feared for your life. If he'd planned to pick up, move, and cut the cord, I don't think he'd have planned to meet you for lunch that day." The plumber did not respond, his head now in his hands. "As for Salvatore, I'm not sure why he didn't contest custody. Maybe because the Church would've released him? But I do know this: when we were in my office, he was as protective of Luigi and Mario as any father would've been. He went with Pete to find you and Luigi, then down in those tunnels to rescue you. No hesitancy, not even after Polina's phone call. I'm willing to bet serious money that this Rosetti character did something back then – both in the '80s and in the 2000s. And that he worked actively with Kariolis and Polina Bowser against Salvatore, your brother, and you."
Lifting his head up to regard Daisy's father with moist blue eyes, Joe murmured, "We need to find out. Otherwise, Luigi and Mario will never be safe from the Bowsers or the Mafia."