The Octopus at the Vatican

# 2 - Alessa's cunning

She glanced at her watch: 11.30. The local godfather always took his aperitif whilst playing cards in the main café, next to the big church. Where her car was parked. She suddenly remembered the old mafioso tradition of protection. She was slowing down, but it was her last chance: to fall into the wolf's mouth to avoid its fangs; she rushed into the café, sliding past the clumsy bodyguards, who hadn't seen her. The tavern was buzzing with people; they were chatting and laughing. She went straight to the main table opposite the bar and threw herself at the feet of the godfather. Using an ancestral tradition, she said, very loudly so everyone would hear her,

"I beg for your protection, Don Gaetano."

Her pursuers were at the door. Gaetano Badalamenti looked at them nastily and made a sign which meant Buzz off, you fools!; then, with everyone watching in the suddenly quiet café, he had to offer the protection she had requested. According to the old ritual, he vaguely remembered. It must involve offering his hand or his ring for kissing. He stretched out his paw towards Alessa with such a look of hatred that she didn't hang around afterwards. She paid her bill, picked up her things, left the keys of the car with the hotel for Hertz to collect later, took a taxi and the first flight to Rome before the Don understood what was happening. In fact, she wasn't at risk with him as once awarded his protection, he could hardly come back on his word without disapproval.

During the night, two young Badalamenti mafiosi were taking a keen look at the Fiat. They were youngsters who had just been sworn in. There was profit to be made from selling stolen hire cars. They were always clean and agencies never filed a complaint. They paid the pizzo, the royalty fee. In Messina, they knew a dealer who would give them a good price. They had yet to prove themselves to climb the ladder of the family hierarchy. At the very moment when, having forced the lock with no trouble, they put both wires end to end, there was a blast. It spread mechanical and human remains 50 meters away, shattering windows and shop displays.

Having heard the explosion from his home where he was enjoying a week-earned rest after giving his protection the old way, the godfather blew up himself. He called a sottocapo.

"You bloody fool, you didn't get the explosive removed!"

"Well, I had planned it for dawn."

"I hope for your sake you will see beyond the dawn."

He replaced the Bakelite headset with great care.

***

Badalamenti told what had happened at the meeting in the Cupola. It was the meeting of the island's mafiosi bosses where big decisions were taken, which territories were going to whom, as well as smaller ones. Should they make this future suicide victim disappear in acid or just let him hang? One of the capi generously offered to be in charge of the journalist's disappearance. Because Badalamenti could no longer do it. With thanks, said the delighted Protector. It would be done. The Capo Dei Capi asked:

"What was the bitch called again?"

"Alessa Lombardi."

"I shall be delighted to read in the press that she was mown down in the street. I hope she is well known. Let it be a lesson to other shit stirrers of her kind."

"But we are not shit, my dear, the boss of Catania objected; he was educated."

"Yes, in a manner of speaking Don Cicio. What would you call her?"

"Spoilsport."

"OK, spoilsport. In any case, her future looks grim, whatever we call her."

They laughed heartily and went on to more serious matters after this trifle.

*

A few days later, the Sicilian Capo di Capi called his American accomplice to arrange a delivery. He told him about the clever little journalist who had found a way to get him to protect her, even though he had already appointed hitmen to keep an eye on her. She really pulled a fast one on the boss and the rumors spread around the island.

"What is the name of this young lady?"

"Alessa Lombardi."

"What!"

"What's the matter?"

"Tell me her name again?"

"Alessa Lombardi."

"Can you contact your colleague, the one who sent the cleaners, quickly?"

"Yes, of course. But what's the problem?"

"Alessa Lombardi is the niece of the new President of the United States, Jimmy Carter."

"Well, there! Are you sure? You're not teasing me?"

"She's the daughter of his wife's sister; they are very fond of each other, according to the papers. You need to move quickly if you don't want the 6th fleet and the Action Service of the CIA on your back."

"Thanks, I'll call you back."

***

Alessa Lombardi had returned home in Rome. She felt relatively safe as her line was on the red list, along with the address of her flat. In Rome with its two million inhabitants and far from Sicily, she felt she wasn't in too much danger. She had again looked up ancient mafioso practices. Once given, a boss's protection couldn't be withdrawn. It was a code of honor. What was it worth today? The best traditions were getting lost, and not only at Cosa Nostra. That made her smile and she went for a shower. It was starting to get hot in Rome. Had she known what was happening outside, she would have felt less serene.