Lynda La Plante - Bella Mafia

Teresa had to repeat herself. Sophia's feet were blue with cold. Slowly she lifted the gown, remembered the heart in the pocket and took it out.

"The gown, Sophia, give it to me. I have to burn it." She looked for something to wrap around Sophia, but there was nothing. She took her own coat off and accepted the blood-soaked nightdress from Sophia. "Put this on, take a hot bath…"

Sophia nodded but just stood there. Teresa went to her and tried to put the coat around her, but Sophia pushed her away.

"Don't touch me. Please, don't touch me."

Sophia stumbled up the stairs and into her bedroom. She locked the door after her and lunged across the room toward the bathroom. She almost fell into the white-tiled shower, hitting her shoulder on the wall, but she turned on the water, tried to wash away the bloodstains on her body, her hands… and still she clasped the little gold heart.

The icy water hurt her, as if someone were slapping her face, her body. But still she made no attempt to turn on the hot water. She put the heart in her mouth and bit into it; her belly heaved, the pain ripping her apart as it had done at her son's birth.

She hit out at the tiles until her fists bled, banged her head against them, yet she would not allow herself to make one sound. This was her punishment, her silence; no one must ever know what she had done. Nothing anyone ever did to her, nothing she could ever do to anyone, would alleviate her guilt. She had committed the utmost crime: She had given birth, rejected her own blood, and, in the end, slaughtered it. She and no one else had destroyed the heart of the family. The child she had discarded for her own greed had become a monster, but the secret would remain as silent as Luka's grave. She would protect all that was left with the ferocity and, if need be, the violence she now knew herself capable of.

The day after Luka's murder, Teresa, Rosa, and Graziella went to bed. Having been up all night, they slept through the day, overwhelmed with fatigue. Mercifully their exhaustion blanked out the horror in which they had participated.

For Sophia there was no sleep. If she closed her eyes, she saw her son's face. She wandered around the house, unable to sit, unable to rest. Her only solution was to occupy her mind with the family papers.

She left the lights off in the drawing room and read by the glow of the fire, studying Michele Barzini's notebook, checking his figures against the missing sums of money from the Luciano estate, the multiple accounts, the fortune that had so mysteriously vanished. Time and time again, the amounts listed by Barzini, with strange markings beside them, matched those of the stolen money. She couldn't break the code, but she wondered if the few initials beside the figures were the first letters of the banks' names. She turned to the list of names printed on the back page. Graziella had recalled two of them, but Luka had know three. They were members of different families, in diverse businesses. If they all had joined forces, agreed on the

Luciano assassinations, and, at the same time, reaped vast financial rewards…

She was too tired to think further. She gathered all the documents together and returned to her bedroom.

At six-thirty that evening she went to sleep for a few hours. By the time she had dressed again she could hear the others talking together in the living room.

They fell silent when she walked in. Then Graziella, with a warm smile, indicated her own chair by the fireside, inviting Sophia to sit in it.

Graziella held out her hand. "This is for you, Sophia. We want you to wear it; we give it to you for your bravery. We love you and trust you, and I kiss you, in the hope that you will receive it and wear it."

She kissed Sophia on both cheeks, then took her daughter-in-law's hand and placed on her wedding finger Don Roberto's embossed gold ring.

"Mama, I can't…"

"Please, Sophia, wear it, in the name of my husband, my sons, my grandsons. I ask one thing from each of you. I ask you to swear on the Holy Bible never to speak of Luka. His name must never be mentioned. We are held together by his death; we need nothing more. Omerta…"

She kissed her small, worn leather Bible and made the sign of the cross, closing her eyes in prayer. Then she passed the Bible to Teresa, who laid her left hand flat on its cover and crossed herself with her right.

"I swear, by almighty God…"

They waited in silence for Sophia to take the oath and show that she accepted Don Roberto's ring. Her hands were folded in her lap, the ring hidden from view. Her mind was in turmoil; instead of asking her to head the family, they should be casting her out.

Graziella touched her hand. "Sophia, please…"

Wearily Sophia rested her hand on the Bible. "I swear by almighty God, Mama." Then she rose to her feet. She clasped Graziella and kissed her on both cheeks, then turned to Teresa, and last she cupped Rosa's face in her hands, kissing her.

Rosa noticed the small gold heart that Sophia wore on a chain, and asked if it had belonged to Luka. Sophia answered simply that it had belonged to one of her sons.

It was as if Luka continued to help them from the grave. Even before his death rumors had begun to circulate about who exactly was behind the widows; the rumors spread an insidious fear. Revenge was expected, but from where?

The murders Luka had committed, the decapitation of Barzini's cousin, even Barzini's own coincidental death were discussed. It was whispered that perhaps not all the Lucianos had died that fateful night in Palermo, that one of them had ordered the death of Paul Carolla.

As the silence continued, suspicions mounted. A contract was out on Carolla's crazy son, but he had disappeared. Peter Salerno repeated innumerable times the telephone conversation he had had with the unnamed man who claimed to represent the widows. Old ground, past history, was dredged up, and a few came to the conclusion that if there was not some big name family behind the widows, then there was a Luciano still alive. If so, revenge would come; it had to; it was their law. But until it could be proved, no one wished to make a move. Orders passed from one family to another: wait.

Peter Salerno waited patiently, sure he would be the first to be contacted. The call he had been expecting came two weeks after Luka's death.

Sophia Luciano requested a meeting with Salerno and the men behind Barzini. Salerno agreed to arrange it and quickly checked out the address Sophia had given. The Groves, he discovered, had been owned by Paul Carolla and had been handed over to the women by Luka Carolla. The hit on Luka Carolla was upped to one hundred thousand dollars.

Three weeks after the murder of Luka and five days after the call requesting the meeting, Salerno traveled to Long Island in a chauffeur-driven limousine. The three men with him were high-ranking consiglieri of three major families, the families that had been named by Luka as instigating the Luciano assassinations.

The men with Salerno were Tony Castellano, the U.S. representative for the Corleones, Johnny Salvatore, for the

Gambino family, and the hugely fat Nuccio Miano, the paymaster for the Chicago-based Avellino family. They were gray-haired, smartly turned out, and determined to gain control of the Luciano empire.

They fell silent as they reached the impressive avenue of The Groves, partly in admiration but also with anger that they had let this prize piece of property escape their attention.

The sun shone, showing off the house to full effect. The heavy clang of the electronic gates locking behind them made one man turn, and the hair on the backs of his hands prickled.

Graziella preceded Teresa and Rosa into the room, where they were introduced to the others by Salerno. Then Graziella gestured to Rosa to leave the room.