Page 54 of Doubts of the Egoist
Greg shrugged. “I don’t know. Something like cutting your tongue and pouring your blood over the mafia grandpa’s skull to prove you’d rather cut out your tongue than talk to the police and also to bind yourself to the family with blood. Or at least prick your finger with a needle and sign your contract with blood.”
Kuon tried and failed to hold back a laugh, because Greg sounded hurt. “You’re making this up.”
“I wish!”
“Are you sure you didn’t mix things up and accidentally try to become a Freemason or a Satanist?” Kuon couldn’t help but to needle.
“Back then, you could only become a member by undergoing the sacred initiation ritual meaning sacrificing your blood, taking an oath, and agreeing to follow the rules of the Mafia. It’s classic! How come you don’t know that?” Greggrumbled, and Kuon shook his head, completely losing his fight against laughter. “I thought Flavio denied me this honor because I was a foreigner. I was insulted and asked him directly where I should pour my blood, told him I was ready. Flavio laughed and said that a medical blood test doesn’t automatically make one an organ donor, just like a few drops of mixed blood won’t make two strangers a family. Instead, he took me to the chapel, gave me a goblet of holy wine, and spoke about himself, then about Milana. I was expected to protect her with my life. He asked me to swear before God that I’d do it or walk away. I didn’t want to be a babysitter for the bratty, spoiled princess I thought she was. But I understood his reasons. What could be better than a bodyguard who doesn’t understand a word of Italian, right? I vowed anyway, hoping that one day, he would make me a member of the Santelli family. It took me years to understand that Flavio didn’t take everyone into the chapel sacred to his family. He did me a favor by sparing me from the stupid blood ritual and the obligation to the Mafia. Instead, he gave me Milana to watch and learn from.”
“Are you with Yugo because of that promise? Or did he also take you to a chapel?” Kuon asked, then chuckled at the ridiculous visual.
“Yugo never took me to a chapel, but if you stay, he might take you.” Greg winked, and Kuon shook his head.
“Ha-ha, very funny. Don’t answer if you don’t want to. So, what happened at the wedding?”
“It had been planned for months. But two days before the ceremony, the bride changed her mind, preferring a larger Baroque church. She hated the seclusion of the Cappella Palatina and that only the family was allowed to attend. Chiara was young and wanted what all girls do—a grand wedding withbridesmaids and friends cheering as her father led her down the aisle.
“We all knew it was partly the Scarci’s influence. They didn’t share the Santelli’s worldview. We all knew that the Chiesa del Gesù was a bad choice and difficult to secure. It is squeezed between narrow streets and surrounded by many buildings. Carrying out the wedding there was unwise and unsafe. However, Chiara refused to be reasoned with. It was either this church or no wedding at all.”
“So the wedding was relocated?”
“Yes. Flavio was more than generous with the residents of the surrounding buildings, paying well to anyone who agreed to vacate their apartment for the big day. We thought we had it under control, and the Scarci people helped with security…”
“What happened after that?” Kuon pressed when Greg fell silent.
“I wish I knew. Investigating something like this from afar is never easy, even if you have the money. The security channel was compromised, some security teams were misdirected, and armed men entered the secured perimeter. Snipers took the roofs of the nearest buildings, and there was a bomb inside the church. It’s safe to say that it was an inside job.”
Kuon scratched his temple with icy fingers. “You said the Scarci were not the targets, then why did Rudolph have to leave? Why did the family disintegrate if they held so much influence?”
“Like Yugo, Rudolph wasn’t in the line of succession. His twin brother, Francesco, was Milana’s husband. After his father and twin brother both died in the church, Rudolph tried to take power, but he was weak and not very popular.”
“Why not?”
“He was a debauchee, a spendthrift, and a heavy gambler to boot.” When Kuon nodded, Greg continued, “As soon as the massacre happened, the jackals switched sides, and the family split into three warring factions. Rudolph couldn’t maintain enough power to bring them together, so they turned on him.”
“You said Mio was five when this happened, so Milana must have been married for at least six years. Why did the power transfer take so long? Unless Mio isn’t…” Kuon stumbled, recalling a bunch of pictures of Milana and Tobias but unsure how to proceed with the delicate subject. Those two were clearly more than just friends, but what if Greg didn’t know about it? Was it a secret Kuon wasn’t supposed to touch?
Greg went on, sparing him the awkward search for words. “As soon as Milana was married, disputes started to occur. Not everyone in the Santelli family was eager to swear allegiance to the Scarci. Flavio found it hard to let go of the power and his life’s work. He made up excuses to stay until Milana’s position was secured, but she was already well-liked by both families. When the rumors about Interpol began to spread, time was running out for Flavio. He needed all the loyalty and influence he could get to keep his family alive. The second marriage into the Scarci was supposed to be a message of power, or so we thought.”
“And after the massacre?” Kuon asked quietly. “What happened then?”
Greg shrugged. “It was a mess. We had to flee Italy. The funeral was arranged distantly by attorneys, and we had to drug Yugo so he wouldn’t attend the burial. He’s never forgiven us for this, but at least he was alive. We started an investigation and found seven crime families had joined forces that day to executethe traitor and eliminate every male member of the Santelli bloodline so no vendetta would follow. The people you saw in the records were among them.”
Kuon squinted. “If it’s just a vendetta, why torture and interrogate? Why not just kill?”
“Yugo never believed his father was guilty. None of us did. We found many reports against other crime families, presumably filed by someone in the Santelli family, but no audio recordings or witnesses. Just statements corroborated by a single Interpol officer.”
“What makes you think Flavio was innocent?”
Greg chuckled and tilted his head to the side. “You had to know him to understand. He was a man of unbreakable principles. Old school, you might say. He honored Omertà. He’d rather die than rat on anyone. Also, when we finally got a lead on the Interpol officer, he committed suicide, leaving behind a young wife, three kids, and a newly built house.”
“Any chance he was murdered?”
“Not according to the police.”
The familiar excitement a case always incited injected adrenaline into Kuon’s blood, making his heart race. “So, what did you find out?”
“Nothing.”
