Trigger and the Truth
1126 Words
Luca did not think.
Before his mind could move, his body moved.
His impulse launched him across the table, and as the gunman pulled the trigger he sent Isabella tumbling to one side. The first one broke a bottle behind their backs, the second one passed over Luca shoulder with some inches to spare burning his clothes.
People were shouting, wriggling under chairs, knocking the tables down.
The assassin moved deliberately, cool and intensive. Luca noticed the look of his eyes--vacant and flat. A professional. With a mission sent.
Isabella sighed as they fell together behind the bar counter. She had a bleeding cheek but her eyes were directed to Luca.
You are not armed?”
He hissed, I surely did not guess that I would need some weapon in a jazz bar!
She swung open a drawer behind the counter and, in trembling fingers, produced a switchblade. You do now.
Luca did not hesitate to take it.
Boots clattered on the shattered glass.
The murderer was on the way.
Luca stole down to a crouch, prepared to attack.
Now the man spoke.
Don Moretti greets you.”
Luca blinked.
My father? murmured he.
Isabella reached him with an arm. “No. He’s lying.”
but a suspicion crouched at Luca. Alessandro was dying. Did he actually command this?
He jumped off the counter.
The murderer lifted his gun--too late.
But Luca wrestled him, and knocked the gun out of his hand. The gun slid on the floor. They grappled fiercely, knocking butt against Jaw and Ribs, before Luca at last thrust the knife in.
It cut into flesh.
The man gasped, tripped, and fell.
Luca sat down on top of him and his hands were covered with blood. Who sent you?!”
The murderer spit blood. “The Devil Daughter must remain buried…. ”
His eyes rolled in.
Dead.
Sirens of police cars raved at the distance.
Luca rose on his feet, breathing hard, heart throbbing to his neck. Slowly Isabella rose, holding her bleeding arm.
I must go, we must go.
He nodded, took her hand, and out the back door they disappeared, as the sirens approached.
After 15 minutes, they arrived at a safehouse outside the city.
It was a dilapidated villa where Alessandro had worked in the 90s, and now there was only one generator and emergency equipment left in it. The security system was also operational albeit hanging on a thread.
Luca shut the door behind them, and turned to Isabella.
Tell me all about it.
She sat down beside the couch, white. You would not believe it.
“Try me.”
She was gazing at the floor. Matteo was the name of my brother. And not your Matteo who was your fathers guard--this was an older fellow. Enzo’s firstborn. A secret he never shared with the world.”
“A bastard?”
A mistake, she replied tetchily. But he loved my mother. And he despised what Enzo became.”
Luca was sitting opposite her. And what became of him?
He had discovered something, she said. “About Enzo. Regarding the human trafficking routes via the Balkans. He intended to make it public. Just when he was going to, he vanished.”
And you believe my father murdered him?
I am sure he did. She put her hand in her coat and took out a torn envelope. This was one week after Matteo disappeared.
She gave it to Luca.
There was a photo inside it.
Another man on the ground with the face down. He held in his hand a chain of dragon.
Isabella’s brother.
I recognised him from that.
Luca looked at it, sick with it.
Yet that is not all, she said.
Of course there is, grumbled he.
She bent to her voice. Matteo messaged me before he died. Only a line: The boy with the cross. Protect him.”
Luca started up. What does that imply?
She looked in to his eyes. He probably meant you.
In the morning Luca walked up and down the hall of the villa.
Isabella lay on the sofa breathing lightly. He was not able to sleep. Too many questions tore at him.
Why should a dead man--the brother of Isabella--speak of him?
What was the cross?
What then had his mother been mixed up with before she died?
The door of the villa was knocked. Supple, and at the same time, directed.
He took the switchblade and sneaked to the peephole.
It was Matteo.
Not the one in Isabella s picture.
Of the estate of Alessandro.
The living one.
Luca hesitated and opened the door. How did you locate me?
Matteo smirked. You called me on a private phone purchased by Alessandro. It is tracked.”
Of course.
What are you after?
Matteo came up and looked around. “You okay? I had heard of the bar.”
I dealt with it.
I can see that, he said, looking at the blood on Luca sleeve. Do you want answers?
“Desperately.”
Matteo took a file out of his coat and threw it on the table. You are not alone in the hunt.
Luca opened the folder.
Surveillance images were inside. Names. Flight manifests. Shipments.
Everything is connected with Enzo Romano.
They were all dated in the last six months.
This is what Matteo Romano was killed over, said Matteo. It was on the verge of being leaked by a whistleblower to a journalist in Milan. Enzo beat them to it. Set the car aflame. Bury the story.”
and you retained this?
Matteo nodded. Because Alessandro said so. He desires to kill Enzo. And he wants you to complete what he began.”
Luca dried up. “Why me?”
The world knows you as a priest, Matteo grinned unkindly. Nobody suspects the priest.
That evening Luca was sitting before the window gazing out over the darkness beyond the olive trees.
The priest in him desired to turn away. Leave it to the justice system.
But the man?
The man drowned in blood, in secrets, in a past he never wanted to have.
On the table by him lay one rosary.
His mother’s.
Still stained.
He clasped it hard and said a prayer--not to be calm, but to be able to see clearly.
Then he did decide.
He would reduce the Romani empire to ashes.
One secret at a time.
The burner phone started tinkling abruptly and Matteo checked the call.
He picked up, frowned, and gave it to Luca.
It is yours.
Luca answered the phone.
On the speaker a distorted and disguised voice was heard.
What the girl says is not true. Her brother has not died. And unless you get out of Rome before midnight, you are next."
- Writer
