Lynda La Plante - Bella Mafia

There was not one of them in the sprawling villa who did not know, could not sense the presence. Don Roberto Luciano was home.

Roberto's family were seated in the living room, awaiting his arrival. His sons, his daughters-in-law, his grandsons, his granddaughter, his nephew-all sat and talked loudly among themselves.

His appearance silenced them all. His sons rose to their feet to shake his hand. He kissed each one and then welcomed his daughters-in-law. He looked at Rosa and gave her a private smile. "The beautiful bride, Rosa, and my nephew Emilio, welcome." The two little grandsons stared up at him, openmouthed, and he cupped each face in his big, strong hands and kissed them on the lips. "And last but not least, welcome to my special boys."

Graziella lifted her glass in a toast. "To Papa…"

They toasted their papa and were surprised by his tears. "You make me happy. It is good to have you all here. Now we eat before Mama's food goes cold." He took out a clean handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.

The don had a private word to say to everyone, making each feel special, while the wine flowed freely. By the time the ice cream and sweets were served, the don had one grandson on his lap and the other on the arm of his chair, his small arm around his grandfather's shoulders.

Constantino watched his wife, Sophia, as she passed a dish along the table. She looked exquisite in a flamingo red dress, her thick black hair coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck. She was talking animatedly to Rosa, telling her how she had worked on the design of her wedding dress.

"I wanted it to be like a fairy tale. I used all my girls. Some of them should have been working in the shop, but I had to use everyone to get it ready in time. Nino, my designer, was furious, but I said, 'Rosa Luciano is going to be the most beautiful bride in Sicily.' "

Constantino nudged Filippo and whispered, "You know, I will never be able to repay you. After all, if it weren't for you, I would never have met my wife. Isn't she the most stunning woman in the world?"

Filippo, flushed with wine, looked at Sophia, who turned and smiled at him. He sighed, "Ah, if I had been just a few years older, I doubt that you would have stood a chance." Then he whispered to Constantino, "You want to trade? Anytime, any day."

Teresa pursed her lips suspiciously. "What did you say?"

"He wouldn't trade you any day," Sophia interjected, then exchanged grins with Filippo.

"Exaaactly!"

Nothing in Don Roberto's manner gave a hint of his intentions. He would inform his sons the following night, when the men dined alone together. They would know then that he was to be the major witness for the prosecution, then and not before. Tonight he wished to enjoy his family. He brought out his vintage brandy and a treasured box of Havana cigars.

The little boys began to tire, but would not leave their grandfather's side. They vied with each other for his attention, demanding stories.

Puffing on his cigar, the don began to tell them about an incident in his own childhood, when he was no older than Nunzio. He had climbed into an orchard and stolen two big rosy apples. He needed his hands free to climb back over the wall, so he stuffed the apples down the back of his pants.

"Well, there I was, half over the wall, when the farmer caught me. He pulled at my boot…" He made a face and stuck out his bottom lip. "Caught you, you thieving little beggar!" He raised his eyes in a show of innocence. "Me, sir? I have not taken anything. I was just looking over the wall at your beautiful orchard and thinking to myself how nice it would be to have one of your big rosy apples."

Constantino slipped his arm around his mother's shoulders. Everyone was listening as the don continued, spreading his hands wide. "Look, sir, I haven't stolen anything. I'm innocent."

He blinked and gave a clownish grin. Constantino whispered to Graziella, "I have never seen him so relaxed. He never told us stories."

Graziella patted her son's hand and looked up into his face, saying very softly, "You forget…"

" 'Well,' said the farmer, 'I am sorry. Now you be on your way and count yourself lucky I didn't box your ears. Go on, off with you.' So I began walking away from him, backward, because if I turned around, he couldn't help seeing just where I had hidden the apples. Then he called out, 'Wait a minute, wait a minute!' and he reached into his basket for a big, big apple, and held it out. Just as I reached for it, can you guess what happened?"

Two little faces peered up at him, and two little heads shook from side to side.

"Why, the two apples I had stolen fell to the ground and rolled right up to his feet. He chased me down the lane, shaking his fist, and then can you guess what he did? No? He was so angry that he threw the apples after me, and guess what then? Later that night I went back and picked up the apples. I was so pleased with myself that I ate them all, every one. And then can you guess what happened? No? No ?" He roared with laughter. "/ got a bellyache/"

Everyone rocked with laughter. Tears rolled down the children's cheeks. When they finally subsided, Don Roberto gave his wife a private, intimate look. Their house burst with life and energy, and it felt so safe. He knew he was right not to tell them, not tonight.

The following morning the Villa Rivera reverberated with the sounds of the family. Gifts for the bride and groom were being stacked in the living room as they arrived, a profusion of wedding bells and horseshoes, but only the don and his wife knew that each one had been carefully inspected and rewrapped before being brought into the house. Only they knew why, as the family gathered for breakfast, every door was guarded. There were men on the roof, men in the orchards and in the stables, and more checked everyone who entered or left the premises against the list of staff hired to complete the wedding arrangements.

The same tight security enabled the prosecuting counsel, Giuliano Emanuel, to feel secure in his own house. He was still tired from the previous night, having worked late over the Luciano tapes in the privacy of his own home. It was after ten o'clock when he drove to work, where security was even more in evidence. It was a considerable time before he could enter his own office, but he could not complain as the guards checked his identity papers. He was the one who had instigated the security measures. He had told Mario Domino the day after their meeting in the restaurant that he had arranged to have fifteen guards allocated to the Luciano household. The don and his family would be protected as requested.

Closing his office door, he tossed his briefcase on the desk. He and Roberto Luciano had been working together for almost eight days, recording the don's statements. Luciano had asked for a weekend break, to be with his family. Emanuel agreed; he needed the time to write up all his notes.

The past eight days had been exhausting; the precautions that had had to be taken to keep the don's identity secret and to ensure his safety bordered on the obsessive. Every meeting place was guarded; cars were changed, locations switched at the last moment. Even finding safe houses had proved a nightmare. And all the tapes had to be transcribed before they went into court.

Emanuel had also prepared a list of problems arising from the statements. Don Roberto would take the stand as soon as the adjournment was over. Emanuel had let it be known that he had a powerful new witness for the prosecution, but he was confident that no one could discover the don's identity.

Emanuel pulled the tape recorder closer and loaded Tape 4 from the last session. The volume was too high, distorting the don's voice, and he turned it down. Then he opened his notebook and switched on his word processor.