Page 79 of Vita Mia

Napoli, Italy

––––––––

GIOVANNI WAS KEPT ISOLATEDfrom other prisoners. For hour’s he sat alone in a room with concrete walls. His head bowed. His hands and feet were in shackles. To look at him you’d believe he was broken. But that was never the case. He waited. He heard Carabinieri laughing and celebrating the capture of the most notorious Don of the Camorra. They were quite chatty. And a few spoke of paying his wife a visit to taunt him. Apparently, he’d grown to have a reputation of extreme jealousy and paranoia when it came to his Bella. That was the only truthful warning the men should heed. With all of his men captured he was powerless to protect her. He had to believe she would remember all that they discussed and do as exactly as he taught her.

“Battaglia!” Barked a tall lean soldier. He aimed a gun at him. Giovanni’s head was slow to lift. He locked eyes with the lieutenant and then the gun.

“Move!”

He stood and followed orders. From that point forward he had no less than twelve men with guns covering him. They went from the jails of Palermo to the flight back to Italy. He worried most about Roma being the final destination. There was political strife in the government now about the Camorra. Many politicians wanted to use the eradication of the Mafia as the cure for all their failings when it came to poverty and drug abuse. His arrest made him vulnerable to crusaders who could prolong this ordeal much further than he could tolerate. But to his surprise the plane landed in Napoli. Immediately a black sack was put over his head. He was taken out of a transport van and put in another. He heard the shouting of the press and through the dark cloth he could see the bulbs of lights flashing. They knew who he was. The scavengers salivated for the news story of his downfall.

The ordeal went for hours. He hadn’t eaten, had a drink, or even taken a piss throughout it all. At the jail he was photographed, made to strip and searched, then tossed clothing that smelled of funk and mildew. Giovanni did all that was asked of him without complaint. He’d never been in jail before. Lorenzo and Carlo had visited jail countless times. Nico and Renaldo had also spent some time behind bars, but never him. He was Tomosino’s son, and the consequence was never put upon him.

The Générale is who he wanted, and who he expected to see him soon. He did not. He was walked into the cell he’d share with twenty men and then left to die. The moment the door closed behind him the men came out from their bunks. Giovanni swept his gaze over the arrangement. He counted only ten bunks. Less than half what was needed for the prisoners.

“Step aside,” a man’s deep voice spoke from a lower bunk. The crowd of young men parted. The speaker sat up from his relaxed position. He leaned out to look at Giovanni. He had a muscular form, from his neck to his arms that extended to his fists. His head was shaven and both his nose, and ears were pierced. He was gypsy.

“Don Giovanni. We heard you were coming. Welcome to my home.”

Giovanni now understood the arrangement. Instead of being housed with the rest of the Camorra he was put in a detainee unit for migrants. This one was run by a King Gypsy who everyone called Aldo. And it was no secret that the King Gypsy and the clan bosses were less than friendly. It was whispered in the streets that Liccardi and Tacchi both died by this Gypsy’s command. He came out from under the bunk. He stood at least a foot taller than every man in the room. He was the one they feared. He walked over to Giovanni and then bowed his head.

“It’s an honor to have you here with us.”

Giovanni nodded at the show of respect. It was for ‘show’. The Gypsy King could snatch it back at any moment. The purpose of the gentile greeting was to demonstrate to Giovanni his generosity. If Giovanni gave him what he expected he’d get the respect of every migrant on the cell block, by the snap of Aldo’s fingers. The other migrants observed in silence. They all knew that life in the Campania for their loved ones and themselves would be a lot easier if Giovanni and Aldo became friends. It was motivation.

Aldo spoke to Giovanni in his language. It was another test. Giovanni understood. He’d learned plenty with kids like Leo joining his ranks over the years. He was thanked for the generous memorial Giovanni did for Leo and the money given to Leo’s clan after his death.

“It was my honor. He was a good soul,” Giovanni responded.

“We have your bunk here...” Aldo gestured. The cell reeked of male sweat and sickness. Giovanni looked to the left. The place was a shit hole. It stunk like one. But the migrants had cleaned one area the best they could. There was food and bottles of water.

“Don’t drink the water here. It’ll have you on the pot for weeks. My men capture rain water and bottle it for you.” Aldo pointed to the windows that faced an open courtyard. Outside of the bars were tin cans and bowls that collected the rainwater.

A mattress was taken from another bunk to stack on the other to double his comfort. Giovanni walked over and Aldo was the only one to follow.

“The rest of the men will sleep on the floor or standing. I don’t give a fuck. As long as no one disturbs you.”

“The guards. Tell me about the guards, and who really is in charge here.” Giovanni asked.

Aldo gave him a thin smile. He sat on the lower bunk across from Giovanni. “There is only one man in here dumb enough to be a problem for you. And unfortunately, he is the one in charge.”

***

PRESENT DAY - 2018

Mirabella looked up to the interruption of her story. Mia and Ryder too were startled. In walked Gianni with three young men who rolled in video equipment on a long cart.

“What are you doing in here? We’re in the middle of filming?” MiaBella said.

“Scusi, mum,” Gianni said. “I’m here to help.”

Ryder turned off the video recorder.

“You know this is private. Gianni? We talked about this. Who are these people with you?” Mirabella asked.

“I’m only here to help. This is my team.”

“Your team? What team?” MiaBella gave the men a look of disgust. Mirabella’s gaze volleyed between her children and then to the young man Ryder. She noticed the way he stared at her son and knew that look. It was disgust mixed with fear. The last thing a mother would ever want was for her children to be looked upon with fear.

---