Work Text:
1935
The day was sunny and bright, almost too beautiful for a funeral, but Marcu knew that if Sergio had the choice, he would choose a day like that. Marcu has spent the last couple of days hiding and shying away from the city life, but he had to attend the funeral. Surrounded by an army of his bodyguards, he arrived at the cemetery. He had to have a couple of drinks beforehand to even make his mind and get into the car - his wife tried to talk him out of it with her usual polished politeness, but he just told her to shut up and get ready for when the bodyguards come to pick them up.
They arrived at the cemetery with their car surrounded by vehicles of Marcu's men - Renata remained silent, hiding behind the black hat vail, and Marcu hoped he drowned all his emotions in the drinks he's had before. Looking at the coffin, he felt numb. He knew this all was a charade - and it made the whole procession the more painful. There was no body to be buried. Sergio was wiped out of the world without any trace. They were burying an empty casket because the explosion didn't leave anything else.
Marcu watched the casket with glassy eyes, hearing the priest's sermon but paying no real attention to it, and then heard the car brakes squeal, making his head turn.
The bastard surely wouldn't dare -
Salieri, surrounded by three other men whom Marcu has never seen before, was making his way towards the mourners, walking slowly and looking confident, as if he's never been more sure of anything in his life. Renata didn't move; she stood by Marcu quietly, holding a rosary in her hands without even twitching. All his men seemed to be alert though, they all raised their heads and seemed to be ready to act if Morello gave them a sign.
"Marcu." The voice still sounded the same. "I come here in peace."
Morello touched his wife's arm as an apology - she had to go on with the praying and listening to the priest because he was losing his mind. He made a few steps to the side, ignoring the priest's frightened look, and turned to Ennio.
"Why are you here, Ennio? To laugh in my face?" He tried to speak as quietly as possible, but the emotions were still pouring out of his words. "To trample on pieces of my heart on a day like this?"
"I'm here out of respect."
"Respect?" Morello's lips curled in a cruel, dishonest smirk.
Salieri saw the twitch in his sworn enemy's face. He knew the subtle signs - he's seen him go through a lot. Marcu hasn't changed. He still had the same quick temper as years ago when Peppone used to chide him about it.
"My men are armed," he said quietly as a warning, knowing that Marcu's men must have had weapons on them as well. "Don't try anything." He knew exactly where to hit the sore spot. "Don't ruin the memory of your kid brother with another bloodshed."
Had they been fifteen years younger, he was sure Marcu would strangle him there and then.
"There's nothing left to ruin, you sick bastard," Morello hissed, unable to look at Ennio.
"I didn't want it this way. I'm not like him. I don't enjoy seeing people suffer." He spoke quietly and softly, looking directly at the coffin.
Marcu let out a pained sob, a sound so soul-shattering that Ennio couldn't look help but look at him. He realized he's never seen Marcu cry. Emotions were for the weak - crying was for women and kids - at least that was what Peppone used to say, and what Morello seemed to inherit from him. Now the facade was breaking.
Salieri looked around. Morello's men, all the bodyguards and capos, were ready to kill him if only Morello gave them a nod. His men were ready to return the fire immediately. Everyone was armed, waiting for a sign to do something - and instead of giving it, Morello was wiping the tears from his eyes, while the priest muttered some words about the Lord's blessings. Marcu was getting weak now. Maybe he would lose the respect of his men eventually - with Sergio gone, the port was at risk, especially with the explosion which damaged a good part of its warehouses -
He looked back at the coffin lowered into the ground, with a couple of dark crimson roses and pink carnation flowers laying on top of it. He knew there was no body in the casket. The explosion made any search for body hopeless. He didn't plan it - Tommy said he did what he had to do to finish the job, and he didn't object. An explosion in the harbor made all clues and connections with them untraceable, and a couple of Sergio's bodyguards whose bodies with gun wounds were found elsewhere were already forgotten after a handful of payments into the right hands.
"Nobody should ever have to bury their younger brother," Morello continued, struggling to keep his voice down. "And you - you robbed me even of this - "
"We both made our choices."
- - -
1920
"Renata looks gorgeous today."
"Well, I sure as hell hope it's not just for today!"
They shared a laugh, hugging and kissing each other on the cheek.
"Congratulations," Ennio said for what seemed to be at least a tenth time today, patting his friend's shoulder. He must have hugged and kissed at least fifty men today. Weddings were always a big thing, but he's never enjoyed any other as much as this one.
"When are you getting hitched?" Marcu teased him, nodding towards his bride who was sitting with the other wives in a flock by one of the tables, getting excited over the wedding gifts and packages of money.
"You know, it's not for me - "
"Ha, don't tell me you're still seeing that girl from your neighborhood - oh, you're one faithful bastard! If only she is as faithful, haha."
Ennio smiled and made way for Peppone who was approaching them with a bright smile on his wrinkled face. "Now everything is as it should be," he exclaimed, pulling Morello into a hug. "You kept the poor girl waiting for so long."
"I just wanted to get everything in order beforehand," Marcu shrugged, sharing an understanding smile with don Peppone. Oh yes, these marriages and women -
"That's good thinking. I'm sure you'll be happy. I heard you're planning to move to Oak Hill."
"Ah, you know, I had to promise Renata something - "
"Ha, they're all the same."
Ennio understood that there was no longer a place for him in the conversation, and with a polite smile, he excused himself. Although the room was full of people, he found himself feeling lonely. Everyone seemed to have someone by their side, and the groups that formed around the tables all seemed closed to him by now. There were old grannies and aunties in their conservative dresses and hats with veils, cutting the pieces of cake on their plates with their small forks, wives surrounding Renata in her glamorous wedding dress, looking at the small presents that the newlyweds received from their guests, and the men smoking cigars and patting each other on the back, sharing obscene jokes and stories about their job that almost certainly never happened - and then there were faithful husbands dancing with their wives, and kids running around, stealing the sweets from the buffet tables.
He looked around, trying to find someone with whom he could talk, or at least feel busy and in place. Frank would be the safe choice, but he was sitting with his wife - everyone he knew seemed to be sitting with their wives or soon-to-be wives. Now his existence seemed poor in comparison with the others. What did he have? He could have brought his girl over, the one Marcu teased him about, but she would be bored here - she wasn't exactly the type to sit down at the table with the married women and swoon over a gilded edge of the wedding invitation. She probably wouldn't want to go anyway - she made it clear that marriage was not for her, even if it would bring a beautiful house in Oakwood or Oak Hill and nights at the movies premieres in the city theater. She wasn't fooled by that. "Do you really think that marriage would make me a virtuous lady in their eyes?" she always joked, and he had to admit that no, it probably wouldn't. They were both better off alone.
He would still prefer her company now than the awkward loneliness amid the wedding festivities.
"Ennio?"
He almost dropped his glass with wine. It was only Frank who saw him standing alone and, reading the situation as well as always, decided to keep him company.
"This has to be the most lavish wedding I have ever seen," Frank said, smiling, offering a relaxed theme of discussion.
"Oh, yes. Not sure if it was Renata's idea or Marcu's."
"They fit together well. Birds of a feather - you know?"
Ennio nodded absentmindedly. He was watching don Peppone, who was still engaged in a friendly discussion with Marcu, with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. They looked almost like a father and son; Peppone beaming with pride and smiling, which was a rare occurrence, and Marcu drinking with him, laughing at his jokes, and behaving like an old friend rather than a subordinate.
Frank studied his face. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," Ennio sighed, sipping his wine. "I just feel like I'm missing out on something."
"Marriage?" Frank smiled doubtfully and then nodded towards the scene which Salieri was so fascinated by - Marcu playing the part of Don's favorite son. "Or this?"
1921
The sound of a piece of cutlery tapping on the glass made Ennio turn his head. He saw Sergio standing up with a wine glass in his hand, tapping on it with a knife to get the attention of all the attendees of the funeral service. His black hair was a bit messed up and he looked like he's had a few already, but he still seemed determined to give a speech to which he was trying to get everyone's attention.
"Thank you - thank you - " He turned around, bowing a little to the people around who went quiet at the sound of him tapping the utensil on the glass, and a strand of hair fell on his forehead. "As we all know - it's a sad day today. We said goodbye to a great man - who met an unfortunate end - "
Ennio noticed Marcu shifting a little bit in his seat. Nervous, Marcu? It's your brother, you take care of him.
"We all know the great things he did - for the city and its people," Sergio continued, raising his glass higher. "So I propose a toast to him - and his great achievements - to Felice Peppone."
"To Felice, salute - " some of the guests repeated, ready to have a drink, but Sergio continued.
"Now - we are coming to a new era - " He lowered the hand with the glass again, and looked directly at Salieri. "Someone needs to carry on the legacy - "
Salieri didn't blink. He kept the eye-contact for as long as he could.
" - and I have the pleasure of knowing the man better than most of you - for he is my brother - and I know he will do all he can for the city of Lost Heaven - please, raise your glasses - to don Morello."
Sergio raised the glass to his lips and finished the drink. The attendees followed his suit, some a bit unsure and hesitant. Marcu raised his glass with a polite smile but seemed to be waiting for a continuation of the speech - it took a couple of seconds before it became obvious that the celebratory toast was over and there was nothing else coming from Sergio. It was only then that he took a sip of his wine.
Salieri put his glass down without touching the drink. The last thing he noticed before getting up from the table and storming off was Sergio's smirk, sharp as an edge of the glass.
1923
"Ennio? You got a visitor waiting outside."
Salieri looked at Frank with a question in his eyes. Visitor? What visitor?
"Morello's little brother," Frank explained, moving the glasses on his nose up. It sounded almost like an insult. Morello's little brother - as if he was some kind of a sniveller or fusspot. He never seemed like a "little brother" - unless he met with someone ranking higher than him. He was always ready to use the blood relation to Morello for his gain.
"What does he want?"
Frank shrugged. "He said he wanted to talk to you and only you."
"Alright. Send him in."
Frank nodded, walking out of the office again to collect Morello Jr.
Salieri sat at his desk, impatiently waiting for the unwanted visitor to walk in.
"Ah, Sergio - "
"Don't get up, don't get up," Sergio told him immediately - as if he was going to - and as if Sergio was the one deciding what would happen in this building and this part of town. Sergio waltzed into the room and took a seat without being told to do so. Frank gave him a scornful look and walked out of the room, leaving the two of them to talk.
Ennio's blood was boiling. "Let's get to the point. What is the reason for your visit?"
"You know - we thought you would keep your word."
"You might need to be a bit more specific."
"You might remember that the port was a part of our deal - " Sergio fired back, mocking his previous tone of voice. He smirked as he did so, knowing well how that expression made Ennio feel.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You better remember."
"Listen here, you piece of shit - " Salieri jumped up from his chair and leaned over the table. "You do not come to my place to talk to me like that."
Sergio wasn't phased. He didn't bat an eyelid and calmly reached in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette tin case. "As long as you don't honor our deal, I'm afraid I can't have any respect for you."
"Our deal?! There is no deal between you and me! - " He grabbed the tin case and for the briefest of moments considered smacking Sergio's face with it. He knew he couldn't touch him, and the idea vanished as soon as it appeared. He hesitated, unsure whether to smash the case against the wall or just put it on the desk, and the small moment of hesitation was enough for him to see the look of derision in Sergio's face. He was always ready to ridicule him, use the power he had - or imagined he had - and hold it over him.
"You know I am here on behalf of my brother," Sergio said calmly, reaching for his cigarette tin, and taking it back from Ennio. The whole fight was useless because he, in the end, got what he wanted.
Salieri sneered, sitting back down, and watching as Sergio lit his cigarette and then offered one to him as well. He refused, prolonging the intense silence before finally speaking again. "Marcu can't talk to me now? Is that why he sends his scumbag brother over?"
Sergio smiled, accepting the insult as if it was a compliment. "You know, everyone has always thought he is the vicious one. I don't see it. I see one sad little man who didn't get his piece of cake and got jealous."
"You got some nerves - "
"The port is mine, capisci? And the ambushes and hijackings of our trucks need to stop."
"Is this why you're here? Because some underpaid and overworked driver that you make work his fingers to the bone got ambushed?"
"Leave the workers' wellbeing to me. And listen. Marcu wants to meet you - somewhere in public, where it's not dangerous, where he doesn't have to worry about your men. Just a private conversation."
"Will you be a part of this private conversation?"
"What do you think?" He blew out the smoke with a smirk playing on his lips again. "But don't worry - " He nodded towards the door. "You can take your four-eyed friend too."
Salieri kept his lips tight, trying to ignore the insult aimed at his consigliere. "When?"
"Saturday, four o'clock. In the park in front of the city gallery." He clasped his hands together as if to close the discussion. "Don't be late."
With that, Sergio got up, blowing out a bit more smoke. "See you then, Ennio. I'll see myself out."
Salieri managed to keep his rage under control long enough to wait for Morello Junior to leave the room. As soon as Frank entered, he exploded.
"I do NOT want to see this bastard here ever again! Tell the guys to let him stand outside if he ever gets his muddy boots anywhere near this bar!"
"It didn't go so well, I see - "
"He thinks he can come here and disrespect everything that I built? Insult me - and you - and act like he has some merit - "
"I never liked him anyway," Frank shrugged.
"Good, that's good. I'm gonna kill that scumbag if he ever does this again - "
"You know - you know that's not possible. Unless you want a war. Which I - as you know - object to."
"Yes, yes, of course, I know - " He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I need a drink."
Frank walked over to the cabinet in which the bottles and glasses were stored. "Is there a meeting planned?"
"Saturday, at four. In front of the gallery."
"Good." Frank poured two glasses and took them to Ennio, handing him one. "Let's keep the talks safe and peaceful."
"Yes. For now."
1925
"Hey, Frank, old sport, how is it going?" Sergio leaned back in his chair, holding the telephone handle between his shoulder and his ear as he was trying to light a cigarette. Phone calls with Coletti were always nerves-wrecking, his calm and quiet voice without any trace of emotion was driving Sergio insane. Recently, the tensions only seemed to grow.
"The Don will not speak to you, Sergio."
"I am calling on behalf of my brother," he said slowly as if Frank had trouble hearing or understanding him.
"And I am speaking on behalf of don Salieri. If you or your brother have anything to say, say it now, or send someone with a message here. They'll be safe. We're not looking for any trouble - "
Sergio slammed the handset of the telephone back in its place.
"Any trouble?" Marcu asked him from across the room, putting down the newspaper he was reading.
Sergio threw his hands up. "He won't talk to me!"
That got Marcu's full attention. He folded the papers and got up to walk across the room towards his brother and the phone. "We will see about that. Call him again."
Sergio sighed, holding the cigarette between his fingers and dialing the same number as moments ago. "Frank? Long time no hear, hehe - listen. I got someone else to talk to you then." He handed the handset to his older brother.
"Frank? You realize who you're talking to now, right?"
Sergio leaned back in his chair and watched as his brother's face gradually became more filled with rage. He could imagine Coletti mumbling some stupid excuses and trying to weasel his way out, but Marcu wasn't having any of it.
"Now listen to me, bean counter. You do as my brother says. And you will show him some respect. And if he asks for a meeting with Ennio, you arrange it."
Sergio chuckled in his seat, puffing at his cigarette. He loved it. He loved how Marcu could command people and make them do as he said, even when talking on the phone. He grew up admiring Marcu's assurance and ability to assert dominance among his peers; now, he was dominating the whole city.
"And if I hear a single complaint," Marcu continued, "there will be no more exceptions and businesses for Ennio to run outside of Little Italy. Do we understand each other? - Good. Now get a pen and write down a reminder so you don't forget - to pay the debt on Monday. You still owe us for the two stolen trucks. - Aha, just keep the payment in order. - And say hello to Ennio for me."
He handed the handset back to Sergio. "Well?"
"What can I say? You're much better than me."
Marcu smirked. It was always nice to hear words of praise like that, especially from someone who would always be loyal. With Sergio, he didn't have to worry about rivalry or competition. Blood would always be thicker than water. This bond was eternal. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to cautiously check Sergio's eyes to see if there was any hunger for power - there was always just admiration and love. And he knew he could never count on the same with anyone else. "If the old man tries anything again, I want you to tell me. Ennio should teach his crew some respect."
Sergio curled his lips into a playful smile. "I am grateful, Don Morello."
1933
Salieri heard the car stopping behind him on the wet muddy road which cut through the cemetery. He didn't turn - he trusted his men to keep the situation under the control, and he didn't wish to be interrupted now, in a moment of silent contemplation.
He heard the footsteps and felt the tension rising among his men. There could only be one reason for that. He knew who the new mourner coming to Frank's grave was before the man even came to his field of vision.
"You're making my boys twitchy, Marcu."
Morello raised his hand slowly. "Sergio and I just came by to pay our respects, that's all."
Respect for Frank, eh? He didn't show much of it even back when they all worked together. Salieri turned his head, just enough to look over his shoulder. The younger Morello was standing behind him, smirking, with a devilish grin playing on his lips under the mustache. He must have been the mind behind that. He always loved grand gestures and scenes.
Their eyes met, and Ennio returned the look of contempt, keeping the corners of his mouth pinched. Sergio was still the same, the mastermind behind everything, pulling the strings and hiding in the background, letting others take the blame while always reaping the fruits.
"Known Frank a long time, almost as long as you. He was a good man. Smart. Loyal."
Salieri smirked.
"Loyal to his wife, his kid, above all else. There must be some kind of honor in that, Ennio."
He couldn't look at Marcu. It was always the same - loyalty to the family, loyalty to one's own blood. He's heard that more than enough. No kind of loyalty could ever matter more than loyalty to the members of this family. They all took the oath. And Frank, as loyal as he was, broke it. No amount of loyalty could ever erase that.
He felt Sergio's eyes staring at him. The man has always been like a devil incarnated, his presence upset and disturbed Ennio to no end severe since they first met. Everything seemed like a power battle with Sergio; even this moment. And he wasn't ready to even inch back.
9th May 1935
He was done giving Tommy and Paulie instructions - now the job was all up to them. Hit in a restaurant seemed risky - but it must have been Sergio who came up with the same plan in the case of the failed assassination attempt a few weeks prior. Salieri was ready to give him a taste of his own medicine.
"It's Sergio's last day today, I can promise that," Paulie said, getting up from the table.
"Take care of him properly, boys. He's not right in the head."
"Do you know him personally, boss?" Thomas asked.
Sometimes, the former cabbie was too curious for Salieri's liking, but this question drew short laughter from him. "A little bit, yeah. Unfortunately. He likes seeing people suffer. As soon as somebody gets in his way, he has them knocked off, he likes to take his time and always be present." He watched Tom's face, satisfied to see his eyes grow cold and remorseless. "I certainly don't call his working methods good... Maniac."
Tom nodded. "He'll get what he deserves."
Somehow, the fact that he and Marcu used to leave Sergio to do the dirty job back in the day exactly because of his working methods, wasn't worth mentioning. But why would it be? Tommy and Paulie only needed to know that the man they were about to kill was a maniac, a man with no remorse, a man who has been ridiculing him for fifteen years. They didn't need to know the whole truth.
"The bastard thinks no one can touch him," he continued. "I want you to show him, Tommy - show him that the life in our business doesn't work like that. Not anymore."
* * *
"You lucky, lucky bastard!" Marcu rushed to his brother who walked in the room, dressed sharply as always, with a wide grin on his face. "I almost had a heart attack today hearing the news. I really thought you were there." A great weight fell off his shoulders when he could embrace Sergio, and see that he was alive and well.
"You told me to break the mould, so I did. No more dining at Italian Garden."
"I also told you to leave the city if I remember correctly - "
"Nah, that wouldn't work for me."
Marcu's smile dropped. He meant it, and Sergio's lighthearted brushing off of the idea didn't make him feel any safer. Now, his kid brother was here, in his embrace, but what would be tomorrow, the day after that, in a few weeks or months? Two attempts at life would be enough to scare anyone off - but not Sergio. He seemed to thrive under the danger. He smiled about it and took it with pride.
"Wasn't the car chase enough?" he asked. "Do you want to stay here and wait - " he used his hand to mimic a handgun and pressed the imaginary barrel, made up of his two fingers, against Sergio's left temple. " - until someone presses the barrel of their pistol against your skull?"
Sergio's smile remained unfazed. "Until it happens, I won't believe it."
"And the bullet holes on your car? You don't believe them?"
"They're on the car. Didn't get me with a single shot."
Marcu sighed, placing his hand on the back of Sergio's head and stroking the hair under his fingers mindlessly. "You're killing me with this, you know that?"
"Not my fault, eh?"
"Of course." He stepped back, looking at Sergio head to toe. He touched up the lapels of his suit and smoothened the collar to the right place. In some aspects, Sergio was still the kid brother to him, the one he had to care for and look after, and the one whom he could raise and influence as he wished. "Who was shot in that restaurant?" he asked, adjusting the knot on Sergio's tie.
"Mikey Turano. Don't worry, his widow and family will be taken care of."
"Good." He pressed his palm against the knot. "At least some responsibility on your part."
"I'm learning from the best."
Marcu proudly smiled, grabbing Sergio's shoulders. "Get more men into the port. I want full security there with you. And don't drive anywhere without bodyguards."
11th May 1935
"Oh God - you're alright." Marcu heard that the hit was unsuccessful, but he still couldn't fully believe it until he saw his younger brother with his own eyes and could embrace him again. Sergio felt limp in his embrace, he didn't return it. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"No, I'm fine." He let his head rest on his brother's shoulder. "I just told her she could drive the car."
"They fucked up again - didn't even sear your mustache, eh?"
Sergio smiled weakly. His usual charm was gone, and he looked pale. Marcu took him by the chin and inspected his face as if he was looking for scratches and burns from the explosion. "You don't look well," he concluded, patting his cheek gently.
"I don't feel that great."
"Come on, Serge. It's just this girl. You didn't plan to marry her, did you?"
"No, no, of course not - "
"Where were your men? I told you to never go anywhere without guards!"
"Al was there, he had a smoke, went inside - I don't know what happened."
"Get that motherfucker checked. For all we know he could as well be working for them - "
"No - he was - " Sergio shook his head, unable to find a proper reason for not killing him, either for betrayal or for being a liability. "There's a lot going on - He was guarding the door, how could he know that someone would go after the car - "
"That's his responsibility! I will take care of him. Alphonso - what's his full name?"
Sergio shook his head again, and the older Morello realized this might have been the first time he's ever seen him like this, with eyes pleading for someone else's life. This wasn't like him at all - he thought he'd see Serge raging and going after the bodyguard immediately, getting rid of him practically on the spot, but Sergio just seemed shell-shocked. The first two attempts at his life didn't do anything to his psyche - racing his car while running away from the assassins served his amusement, he was the one in charge and he could decide what would happen in the end. He didn't see the hit on Italian Garden, and he didn't witness Mikey's death - and after all, Mikey was just one of many. A decent funeral and money provided to his family would soon erase the memory of him completely. But the shots were getting closer, and with his mistress dying in the explosion of his car - it seemed like his luck was slowly running out.
"I'll get someone to find that son of a bitch," Marcu sighed when he realized Sergio won't give him the answer. "I can get you hundreds of guards. But I only have one brother." He placed his hand on the back of Sergio's neck, pulling him close; he always did that when he wanted to say something of importance, and something he wanted his brother to take to his heart. "I would be happy if you went on a holiday now - just a couple of days, maybe weeks, to have a rest."
Sergio's eyes seemed even darker, framed by long black lashes, contrasting with the pale skin.
"It would be safer to disappear until the situation is resolved."
The corner of Sergio's lip twitched. "Resolved?" he repeated, turning the word into a question.
"You know - when you wouldn't need to fear for your life anymore. And neither would I."
Finally, that seemed to bring Sergio back to life. "It has to be done more precisely this time."
"Yes, but this time, I don't want to count on some rats from his family."
Sergio nodded - his mind was already on alert, and the color seemed to come back in his face. He knew this had to be done, he's known it ever since Peponne died and Ennio tried to muscle his way into being his successor. "How?"
"We need a precise plan. But I would be happier if you disappeared for now - "
"No. I stay here, by your side."
"They won't give up, they're after you."
"As long as they're after me, you don't need to worry about yourself." He mirrored Marcu's gesture, and placed his hand on the back of his brother's neck, making them look like they were swearing on their lives or taking a new oath. "I will not leave the city. And if we go down, we go down together."
13th May 1935
"Boss?"
Morello raised his head, meeting with the gaze of one of his capos who just entered the office. "Yes?"
"Your brother is on the phone."
Marcu's brows furrowed with concern. This could only mean one thing - more trouble on the way. He nodded and got up from his desk, following Silvio towards the phone.
"Yes, Serge? Speak."
"Hey, fratellone." Choked-up laughter on the other side of the phone line made Marcu's heart sink. He could tell something was wrong immediately. He knew every little mannerism, change in tone of voice, subtle detail that betrayed Sergio's state of mind.
"What's going on, what's wrong?"
"We got a little problem here."
"What kind of problem?" Marcu asked impatiently, grabbing a chair and getting it closer to the phone to sit down. It was clear that Sergio wasn't keen on even admitting any sort of problem. He was always like that, priding himself in dealing with any kind of problem himself, never failing any tasks, and genuinely enjoying the danger he had to undergo. There was never any problem in Sergio's mind that couldn't be taken care of.
"These bastards - they tried to ambush me in the Downtown diner - you know the one, Giorgi's restaurant - "
"Jesus - "
"They chased me down to the port. I have my men here but - " The pause he made was enough of an answer. "You know how it is. Sometimes that might not be enough."
"Listen - I'll get someone on the way immediately." Marcu beckoned his capo, who was patiently waiting by the door.
"I shouldn't have gone to Giorgi's today," Sergio laughed desperately. "I never go there on Monday."
"What the hell were you doing there? I told you not to hang around the same of spots - "
"I had to meet my bookmakers - we had the guards there, but - "
"Where exactly are you?" He grabbed Silvio's arm. "The office? Can you get out of there?"
"In the office in the warehouse, the one with the rail track - I don't know how many people are out there, one was following me on the way here but who knows - the guards should take care of him - but all I can hear is fucking shooting all over the place - It doesn't sound that good."
"Got Sil in here, he'll get some men on this - " He squeezed Sil's arm to urge him to go and do as he was told. "Get some people to the port, NOW!" - "And you, for God's sake - ," he returned back to the phone call. "Stay there. Don't do anything. Stay quiet and hidden."
"If this doesn't work out - "
"Don't say it." Just the thought of it made his heart race and his blood boil. What was wrong with Sergio? He always joked about danger, he never fazed from it, and now he was having moments of doubt? All because of some stupid fucker who was so brainless he would dare to enter the port and try to take him out there? "You've been through worse, right?" he asked, forcing himself to laugh about it. Sergio's doubts were uncharacteristic, and they were making Marcu terrified.
"It's his turn now. I made my move. This warehouse should be safe, but - "
"You should have left the city."
"Well, there's no point in saying that now, huh? I fucking knew it - It's the thirteenth - and Giorgi's restaurant was a wrong choice - "
"Enough with that superstitious bullshit! Stay in the office."
"Got my piece here - I won't hide."
"No, Serge - don't - don't give him any chance - "
"If the bastard gets here - " Sergio laughed, trying to suppress the anxiety in his voice. "One man can't be that strong, eh? They should take care of him - "
"My best men are on the way - "
" - and if not - we'll meet face to face - "
"Don't - "
" - and if that should be the end - Tell them to put me in an open casket. Wax the mustache and pin a red rose on the lapel."
"No, we won't need that - "
"Just to be sure - that's all - want to have everything ready - "
"Just shut up and listen to me!" His own voice was betraying him; he tried to sound commanding and angry, but it all came out pitiful as if he was begging. "We won't need it," he said, trying to calm his own voice.
"But keep it in mind - just in case."
Marcu covered his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The feeling of powerlessness was choking him. Even if he left now and went to the docks, what were the chances he would get there before the maniac who was after his brother?
"What is that, crying? Come on, don Morello."
The silence was weighing on him. What if the madman who got his brother cornered in the warehouse had more men on his side? What if they surrounded the place, and there was no way for those inside to leave unharmed?
"Marcu? I always told you I'd take the first bullet."
"Not today, please."
"It will be my pleasure."
"Where's your confidence today, eh? You should be laughing about it, mocking the bastard for trying to get you - "
Sergio stayed quiet for a moment. "Something just doesn't feel right. I should go, got a couple of men here with me, we better get ready - "
"No - no, you can't - my men are on their way, they'll kill the bastard, they'll kill anyone who'd crop up around the port- "
"Marcuccio. Please. If that's the way it will be - "
The use of Marcu's childhood nickname made him teary once again. How could he put the phone down? What if he'd never had a chance to speak to his brother again?
"I'll kill them all," he whispered, his knuckles turning white as he grasped the phone handset.
"I know. Do it. For me. For you. Don't let them get you."
"Just stay alive - please - wait for my guys to come - they'll get you out of there - "
"Can't promise anything." He let out a hollow laugh. "Now it's me versus them."
"No - " Marcu's voice sounded broken and dry. "You can't give Ennio that - "
"I'll try my best. Hey - I should - I should go - all this fucking shooting is doing my head in. We should keep an eye on the situation."
"Just wait. The guys will be there in a few minutes - "
"I know. You always took good care of me."
"Don't say that - "
"Now take care of yourself. Okay? I love you."
"I love you too. Stay alive, please - for me - "
He heard a small chuckle from the other side, and then the line fell silent.
- - -
1935
Marcu was the last one to leave the grave. His wife has already gone up to their car, a black model of Pierce-Arrow, and his personal guards were standing in a polite distance, giving him enough privacy while keeping an eye on everyone around. Salieri ordered his men to respect the piety of the scene and keep their distance as well. He himself stood at a distance from the grave, watching Marcu's shoulders jerk a little as he seemed to be fighting with tears again.
Maybe - maybe, at the back of his mind, there used to be a way of going back, forgetting about the small grudges and things that were done out of spite in the first years after Peppone's death. Before the hit at Pepe's Restaurant, before the multiple attempts at Sergio's life. He spent a lot of time during the past fifteen years trying to find a way back to Marcu, and it seemed like it took them all this time to come to the point of no return.
He could never forgive Marcu for the assassination attempt at Pepe's, and he was sure Marcu would never forgive Sergio's death.
He watched his former friend slowly get down on one knee by the freshly covered grave, adjusting the ribbons of one of the wreaths that were laid there. He then placed his hand on the ground.
Salieri bowed his head, looking down, respecting what seemed to be the private gesture of goodbye. When Marcu got up and turned around, he was visibly shocked to find Ennio still standing there. He walked closer, moving slowly and cautiously. It seemed that the recent development has taken its toll on him.
"So it ends like this, Ennio?"
"So it ends like this, Marcu."
Marcu sneered, but his eyes remained dead. He seemed hesitant, considering whether to say anything more - and Ennio waited, as he always did - he waited for an answer, for a reply, for a chance to set things straight. But Marcu turned away, walked past him, and continued towards his car.
Salieri remained standing there, looking at the headstone of Sergio's grave.
Now, there was nowhere else to turn. Don Morello had to be the next target.