Cross remembered Ballazzo and had fond memories of him as a jovial, generous man. He and Pippi had had dinner at the Ballazzo house, for Mrs. Ballazzo had a reputation as a fine Italian cook, particularly for her macaroni and cauliflower with garlic and herbs, a dish Cross still remembered. He had played with the Ballazzo children as a child and had even fallen in love with Ballazzo’s daughter, Ceil, when they were teenagers. She had written him from college after that magical Sunday, but he had never answered. Alone with Pippi now, he said, “I don’t want to do this operation.”
His father looked at him and then smiled sadly. He said, “Cross, it happens sometimes, you have to get used to it. You won’t survive otherwise.”
Cross shook his head. “I can’t do it,” he said.
Pippi sighed. “OK,” he said. “I’ll tell them I’m going to use you for planning. I’ll make them give me Dante for the actual operation.”
Pippi set up the probe. The Clericuzio Family, with huge bribes, penetrated the screen of the Witness Protection Program.
The Ballazzos felt secure in their new identities, false birth certificates, new social security numbers, marriage papers, and the plastic surgery that had altered their faces so that they looked ten years younger. However, their body builds, their gestures, their voices, made them more easily identifiable than they realized.
Old habits die hard. On a Saturday night Virginio Ballazzo and his wife drove to the small South Dakota town near their new home to gamble in the small-time joint operating under the local option. On their way home, Pippi De Lena and Dante Clericuzio, with a crew of six other men, intercepted them. Dante, violating the plan, could not resist making himself known to the couple before he pulled the trigger of his shotgun.
No attempt was made to conceal the bodies. No valuables were taken. It was perceived as an act of retaliation, and it sent a message to the world. There was a torrent of rage from the press and television, the authorities promised justice would be done. Indeed, there was enough of a furor to make the whole Clericuzio Empire seem to be in jeopardy.
Pippi was forced to hide in Sicily for two years. Dante became the number one Hammer of the Family. Cross was made the Bruglione of the Western Empire of the Clericuzio. His refusal to take part in the Ballazzo execution had been noted. He did not have the temperament to be a true Hammer.
Before Pippi disappeared into Sicily for two years, he had a final meeting and bon voyage dinner with Don Clericuzio and his son Giorgio.
“I must apologize for my son,” Pippi said. “Cross is young and the young are sentimental. He was very fond of the Ballazzos.”
“We were fond of Virginio,” the Don said. “I never liked a man better.”
“Then why did we kill him?” Giorgio asked. “It’s caused more trouble than it’s worth.”
Don Clericuzio gave him a stern look. “You cannot live a life without order. If you have power, you must use it for strict justice. Ballazzo committed a great offense. Pippi understands that, no, Pippi?”
“Of course, Don Domenico,” Pippi said. “But you and I are of the old school. Our sons don’t understand.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted to thank you also for making Cross your Bruglione in the West while I’m gone. He will not disappoint you.”
“I know that,” the Don said. “I have as much trust in him as I have in you. He is intelligent and his squeamishness is that of youth. Time will harden his heart.”
They were having a dinner cooked and served by a woman whose husband worked in the Enclave. She had forgotten the Don’s bowl of grated Parmesan cheese, and Pippi went into the kitchen for the grater and brought the bowl to the Don. He carefully grated the cheese into the bowl and watched the Don dip his huge silver spoon into the yellowish mound, put it in his mouth, and then sip from his glass of powerful homemade wine. This was a man with a belly, Pippi thought. Over eighty years old and he could still order the death of a sinner, and also eat this strong cheese and harsh wine. He said casually, “Is Rose Marie in the house? I’d like to say good-bye to her.”
“She’s having one of her fucking spells,” Giorgio said. “She’s locked herself in her room, thank God, or else we wouldn’t be able to enjoy our dinner.”
“Ah,” Pippi said. “I always thought she’d get better with time.”
“She thinks too much,” the Don said. “She loves her son Dante too much. She refuses to understand. The world is what it is, and you are what you are.”
Giorgio said smoothly, “Pippi, how do you rate Dante after this Ballazzo operation? Did he show any nerves?”
Pippi shrugged and remained silent. The Don gave a little grunt and looked at him sharply. “You can be frank,” the Don said. “Giorgio is his uncle and I am his grandfather. We are all of one blood and are permitted to judge each other.”
Pippi stopped eating and looked directly at the Don and Giorgio. He said almost regretfully, “Dante has a bloody mouth.”
In their world this was an idiom for a man who went beyond savageness, an intimation of bestiality while doing a necessary piece of work. It was strictly forbidden in the Cleri-cuzio Family.
Giorgio leaned back in his chair and said, “Jesus Christ.” The Don gave Giorgio a disapproving look for his blasphemy and then waved a hand at Pippi to continue. He did not seem surprised.
“He was a good pupil,” Pippi said. “He has the temperament and the physical strength. He’s very quick and he is intelligent. But he takes too much pleasure in his work. He took too much time with the Ballazzos. He talked to them for ten minutes before he shot the woman. Then he waited another five minutes before shooting Ballazzo. That’s not to my taste but more important you never can tell when it might lead to danger, every minute might count. On other jobs he was unnecessarily cruel, a throwback to the old days when they thought it clever to hang a man on a meathook. I don’t want to go into details.”
Giorgio said angrily, “It’s because that prick of a nephew is short. He’s a fucking midget. And then he wears those fucking hats. Where the hell does he get them?”
The Don said good-humoredly, “The same place the blacks get their hats. In Sicily when I was growing up everybody wore a funny hat. Who knows why? Who cares? Now, stop talking nonsense. I wore funny hats, too. Maybe it runs in the family. It’s his mother who put all kinds of nonsense in his head ever since he was little. She should have married again. Widows are like spiders. They spin too much.”
Giorgio said with intensity, “But he’s good at his job.”
“Better than Cross could ever be,” Pippi said diplomatically. “But sometimes I think he’s crazy like his mother.” He paused. “He even scares me sometimes.”
The Don took a mouthful of cheese and wine. “Giorgio,” he said, “instruct your nephew, repair his fault. It could be dangerous to all of us in the Family someday. But don’t let him know it comes from me. He is too young and I am too old, I would not influence him.”
Pippi and Giorgio knew this was a lie but also knew that if the old man wanted to hide his hand, he had a good reason. At that moment they heard steps overhead and then someone coming down the stairs. Rose Marie came into the dining room.
The three men saw with dismay that she was having one of her fits. Her hair was wild, her makeup was bizarre, and her clothing was twisted. Most serious, her mouth was open but no words were coming out. She used her body and hand flailing to take the place of speech. Her gestures were startlingly vivid, better than words. She hated them, she wanted them dead, she wanted their souls to burn in hell for eternity. They should choke on their food, go blind from the wine, their cocks should fall off when they slept with their wives. Then she took Giorgio’s plate and Pippi’s plate and smashed them on the floor.
This was all permitted, but the first time, years ago, when she had her first fit, she treated the Don’s plate in the same fashion and he had ordered her seized and locked in her room and then had her dispatched for three months to a special nursing home. Even now the Don quickly put t
he lid on his cheese bowl; she did a lot of spitting. Then suddenly it was over, she became very still. She spoke to Pippi. “I wanted to say good-bye. I hope you die in Sicily.”
Pippi felt an overwhelming pity for her. He rose and took her in his arms. She did not resist. He kissed her on the cheek and said, “I wish to die in Sicily rather than come home and find you like this.” She broke out of his arms and ran back up the stairs.
“Very touching,” Giorgio said, almost sneering. “But you don’t have to put up with her every month.” He gave a slight leer with this, but they all knew that Rose Marie was far past menopause and she had the fits more than once a month.
The Don seemed the least upset by his daughter’s fit. “She will get better or she will die,” he said. “If not I will send her away.”
Then he addressed Pippi. “I’ll let you know when you can come back from Sicily. Enjoy the rest, we’re all getting older. But keep your eyes open for new men to recruit for the Enclave. That is important. We must have men we can count on not to betray us, who have omertà in their bones, not like the rascals born in this country who want to lead a good life but not pay for it.”
The next day, with Pippi on his way to Sicily, Dante was summoned to the Quogue mansion to spend the weekend. The first day Giorgio let Dante spend all his time with Rose Marie. It was touching to see their devotion to each other, Dante was a totally different person with his mother. He never wore one of his peculiar hats, he took her on walks around the estate, took her out for dinner. He waited on her like some eighteenth-century French gallant. When she broke into hysterical tears, he cradled her in his arms, and she never went into one of her fits. They spoke to each other constantly in low, confidential tones.
At supper time, Dante helped Rose Marie set the table, grate the Don’s cheese, kept her company in the kitchen. She cooked his favorite meal of penne with broccoli and then roast lamb studded with bacon and garlic.
Giorgio was always struck by the rapport between the Don and Dante. Dante was solicitous, he spooned the penne and broccoli into the Don’s plate and ostentatiously wiped and polished the great silver spoon he used to dip into the grated parmesan. Dante teased the old man. “Grandfather,” he said, “if you got new teeth, we wouldn’t have to grate this cheese. The dentists do great work now, they can plant steel in your jaw. A miracle.”
The Don was playful in kind. “I want my teeth to die with me,” he said. “And I’m too old for miracles. Why should God waste a miracle on an ancient like me?”
Rose Marie had prettied herself for her son, and traces of her young beauty could be seen. She seemed happy to see her father and her son on such familiar terms. It banished her constant air of anxiety.
Giorgio, too, was content. He was pleased that his sister seemed happy. She was not so nerve-racking and she was a better cook. She didn’t stare at him with accusing eyes and she would not be subject to one of her fits.
When the Don and Rose Marie had both gone to bed, Giorgio took Dante into the den. It was the room that had neither phones nor TV and no communication lines to any part of the house. And it had a very thick door. Now it was furnished with two black leather couches and black studded leather chairs. It still contained a whiskey cabinet and a small wet bar equipped with a small refrigerator and a shelf of glasses. On the table rested a box of Havana cigars. Still, it was a room with no windows, like a small cave.
Dante’s face, too sly and interesting for so young a man, always made Giorgio uneasy. His eyes were too cunningly bright and Giorgio didn’t like it that he was short.
Giorgio made them both a drink and lit up one of the Havana cigars. “Thank God you don’t wear those weird hats around your mother,” he said. “Why do you wear them anyway?”
“I like them,” Dante said. “And to make you and Uncle Petie and Uncle Vincent notice me.” He paused for a moment and then said with a mischievous grin, “They make me look taller.” It was true, Giorgio thought, that hats made him look handsomer. They framed his ferretlike face in a flattering way, his features were strangely uncoordinated when seen without his hat.
“You shouldn’t wear them on a job,” Giorgio said. “It makes an identification too easy.”
“Dead men don’t talk,” Dante said. “I kill everybody who sees me on a job.”
“Nephew, stop fucking me around,” Giorgio said. “It’s not smart. It’s a risk. The Family doesn’t take risks. Now one other thing. The word is getting around that you have a bloody mouth.”
Dante for the first time reacted with anger. Suddenly he looked deadly. He put down his drink and said, “Does Grandfather know that? Does this come from him?”
“The Don knows nothing about it,” Giorgio lied. He was a very expert liar. “And I won’t tell him. You’re his favorite, it would distress him. But I’m telling you, no more hats on the job and keep your mouth clean. You’re the Family number one Hammer now and you take too much pleasure in the business. That’s dangerous and against Family rules.”
Dante seemed not to hear. He was thoughtful now and his smile reappeared. “Pippi must have told you,” he said amiably.
“Yes,” Giorgio said. He was curt. “And Pippi is the best. We put you with Pippi so you could learn the right way to do things. And do you know why he’s the best? Because he has a good heart. It’s never for pleasure.”
Dante let himself go. He had a laughing fit. He rolled onto the sofa and then onto the floor. Giorgio watched him sourly, thinking he was as crazy as his mother. Finally Dante got to his feet, took a long swig from his drink, and said with great good humor, “Now you’re saying I don’t have a good heart.”
“That’s right,” Giorgio said. “You’re my nephew but I know what you are. You killed two men in some sort of personal quarrel without the Family OK. The Don wouldn’t take action against you, he wouldn’t even reprimand you. Then you killed some chorus girl you were banging for a year. Out of temper. You gave her a Communion so she wouldn’t be found by the police. And she wasn’t. You think you’re a clever little prick, but the Family put the evidence together and found you guilty though you could never be convicted in a court of law.”
Dante was quiet now. Not from fear but from calculation. “Does the Don know all this crap?”
“Yes,” Giorgio said. “But you’re still his favorite. He said to let it pass, that you’re still young. That you will learn. I don’t want to bring this bloody mouth business to him, he’s too old. You’re his grandson, your mother is his daughter. It would just break his heart.”
Dante laughed again. “The Don has a heart. Pippi De Lena has a heart, Cross has a chickenshit heart, my mother has a broken heart. But I don’t have a heart? How about you, Uncle Giorgio, do you have a heart?”
“Sure,” Giorgio said. “I still put up with you.”
“So, I’m the only one who doesn’t have a fucking heart?” Dante said. “I love my mother and my grandfather and they both hate each other. My grandfather loves me less as I grow older. You and Vinnie and Petie don’t even like me though we share family blood. You think I don’t know these things? But I still love all of you though you put me down lower than that fucking Pippi De Lena. You think I don’t have any fucking brains either?”
Giorgio was astonished by this outburst. He was also made wary by its truth. “You’re wrong about the Don, he cares about you just as much. The same with Petie, Vincent, and me. Have we ever not treated you with the respect of family? Sure, the Don is a little remote but the man is very old. As for me, I’m just giving you a caution for your own safety. You’re in a very dangerous business, you have to be careful. You cannot let personal emotions in. That’s disaster.”
“Do Vinnie and Pete know all this stuff?” Dante asked.
“No,” Giorgio said. Which was another lie. Vincent had also spoken to Giorgio about Dante. Petie had not, but Petie was a born assassin. Yet he, too, had shown a distaste for Dante’s company.
“Any other complaints about how I do my job???
? Dante asked.
“No,” Giorgio said, “and don’t be so tough about this. I’m advising you as your uncle. But I’m telling you from my place in the Family. You do not anymore make anybody do their Communion or Confirmation without the Family OK. Got it?”
“OK,” Dante said, “but I’m still the number one Hammer, right?”
“Until Pippi comes back from his little vacation,” Giorgio said. “Depends on your work.”
“I’ll enjoy my work less if that’s what you want,” Dante said. “OK?” He tapped Giorgio on the shoulder affectionately.
“Good,” Giorgio said. “Tomorrow night take your mother out to eat. Keep her company. Your grandfather will like that.”
“Sure,” Dante said.
“Vincent has one of his restaurants out by East Hampton,” Giorgio said. “You could take your mother there.”
Dante said suddenly, “Is she getting worse?”
Giorgio shrugged. “She can’t forget the past. She holds on to old stories that she should forget. The Don always tells, ‘The world is what it is and we are what we are,’ his old line. But she cannot accept it.” He gave Dante an affectionate hug. “Now let’s just forget this little talk. I hate doing this stuff.” As if he had not been specifically instructed by the Don.
After Dante left on Monday morning, Giorgio reported the whole conversation to the Don. The Don sighed. “What a lovely little boy he was. What could have happened?”
Giorgio had one great virtue. He spoke his mind when he really wanted to, even to his father, the great Don himself. “He talked too much to his mother. And he has bad blood.” They were both silent for a time after this.
“And when Pippi comes back, what do we do with your grandson?” Giorgio asked.
“Despite everything, I think Pippi should retire,” the Don said. “Dante must have his chance to be foremost, after all he is a Clericuzio. Pippi will be an advisor to his son’s Bruglione in the West. If necessary he can always advise Dante. There is no one better versed in those matters. As he proved with the Santadio. But he should end his years in peace.”