took Astorre’s arm to steady him as they went out onto the powdered, noise-muffled streets. And there – there – walking along the other side of the road in the softly drifting grey veil of ash, his eyes on the two men as they came out of the police station, was Corvetto, walking among a phalanx of his men, well guarded, safe enough to sneer. Astorre surged forward. Gilberto grabbed him.
‘Don’t be a fool!’ he said. ‘You want to be laid out next to your father? There are too many of them. Be sensible, Astorre. Pick your time.’
Astorre knew Gilberto was making perfect sense. Standing there soaked in his father’s blood, sick and dizzy with horror and loss, the nightmare miasma from the volcano fogging his sight, choking his throat and filling him with dread, he acknowledged that Gilberto was right. Astorre would wait, and when he was ready, when the timing was perfect, then he would have his revenge. He looked at Corvetto. Their eyes locked. Astorre lifted his arm and flicked his thumb against the underside of his teeth. Corvetto’s smile died.
Like you will die, thought Astorre.
Corvetto had understood the gesture. It meant I am going to get you.
Corvetto walked on, surrounded by his heavies. For a moment, seeing Astorre Danieri there, he’d felt a chill, someone stepping on his grave. But he was safe; his guards were many and his home was a fortress. Astorre Danieri’s father Franco had been a thorn in his side, needing removal. Now the deed was done. If necessary, he would apply the same remedy to the son, Astorre. Let him make his threats; it was Corvetto who had the power – not him.
15
1975
Minutes after she had spoken to Bella at the graveside, Ruby was getting into her car, thankful that it was all over. Her mind was churning over all that Bella had said. Big solid Rob was at the wheel of the Mercedes, Rob with the toffee-coloured hair and the sexy khaki-green eyes. She knew that Daisy thought he was gorgeous, and he was.
Her old chauffeur Ben had retired after Christmas, and Rob – the minder that Michael Ward had assigned to her months before his death – had taken over the job, with Kit’s permission. Kit was Rob’s boss now, Michael’s successor, and she supposed it was generous of her son to spare Rob – who was after all Kit Miller’s own personal attack dog, his own right hand – for this.
Ruby sighed. Thoughts of Rob always led on to thoughts of Kit, and to the Christmas just past, a dismal Christmas without Michael. She’d received many cards from her business associates, and her old friend Vi – as usual. Also as usual, she’d got one from her long-estranged brother Joe and his wife Betsy, written as always in Betsy’s hand. A card at Christmas! That was all the contact she ever got from Joe these days, and he didn’t even write the damned thing.
Of course she always sent one right back – she did that religiously, every year – but she sometimes wondered why she bothered, when it was clear that they were no more than strangers now. It went without saying that there had been no card from Kit – and no presents either. Not so much as a short visit to wish her well.
He promised Michael he was going to try to forgive me .
Didn’t look as if he was trying very hard.
He wasn’t trying at all.
‘That was bloody awful,’ she told Rob as she slid into the back seat.
Rob said nothing. Of course it was awful. It was a funeral.
‘Let’s go home,’ she said.
‘Holy shit ,’ said Rob, straightening in his seat, looking ahead.
‘What? What is it?’ Ruby craned her head to see. There were lines of cars parked up in front of them, there were people moving about on the pavement. She couldn’t see anything past all that. She could see some of the Danieri family, standing beside a black limousine parked four spaces from her Mercedes.
‘Over there,’ said Rob, indicating the far side of the road.
More parked cars, people milling about, everyone dressed in the
‘Don’t be a fool!’ he said. ‘You want to be laid out next to your father? There are too many of them. Be sensible, Astorre. Pick your time.’
Astorre knew Gilberto was making perfect sense. Standing there soaked in his father’s blood, sick and dizzy with horror and loss, the nightmare miasma from the volcano fogging his sight, choking his throat and filling him with dread, he acknowledged that Gilberto was right. Astorre would wait, and when he was ready, when the timing was perfect, then he would have his revenge. He looked at Corvetto. Their eyes locked. Astorre lifted his arm and flicked his thumb against the underside of his teeth. Corvetto’s smile died.
Like you will die, thought Astorre.
Corvetto had understood the gesture. It meant I am going to get you.
Corvetto walked on, surrounded by his heavies. For a moment, seeing Astorre Danieri there, he’d felt a chill, someone stepping on his grave. But he was safe; his guards were many and his home was a fortress. Astorre Danieri’s father Franco had been a thorn in his side, needing removal. Now the deed was done. If necessary, he would apply the same remedy to the son, Astorre. Let him make his threats; it was Corvetto who had the power – not him.
15
1975
Minutes after she had spoken to Bella at the graveside, Ruby was getting into her car, thankful that it was all over. Her mind was churning over all that Bella had said. Big solid Rob was at the wheel of the Mercedes, Rob with the toffee-coloured hair and the sexy khaki-green eyes. She knew that Daisy thought he was gorgeous, and he was.
Her old chauffeur Ben had retired after Christmas, and Rob – the minder that Michael Ward had assigned to her months before his death – had taken over the job, with Kit’s permission. Kit was Rob’s boss now, Michael’s successor, and she supposed it was generous of her son to spare Rob – who was after all Kit Miller’s own personal attack dog, his own right hand – for this.
Ruby sighed. Thoughts of Rob always led on to thoughts of Kit, and to the Christmas just past, a dismal Christmas without Michael. She’d received many cards from her business associates, and her old friend Vi – as usual. Also as usual, she’d got one from her long-estranged brother Joe and his wife Betsy, written as always in Betsy’s hand. A card at Christmas! That was all the contact she ever got from Joe these days, and he didn’t even write the damned thing.
Of course she always sent one right back – she did that religiously, every year – but she sometimes wondered why she bothered, when it was clear that they were no more than strangers now. It went without saying that there had been no card from Kit – and no presents either. Not so much as a short visit to wish her well.
He promised Michael he was going to try to forgive me .
Didn’t look as if he was trying very hard.
He wasn’t trying at all.
‘That was bloody awful,’ she told Rob as she slid into the back seat.
Rob said nothing. Of course it was awful. It was a funeral.
‘Let’s go home,’ she said.
‘Holy shit ,’ said Rob, straightening in his seat, looking ahead.
‘What? What is it?’ Ruby craned her head to see. There were lines of cars parked up in front of them, there were people moving about on the pavement. She couldn’t see anything past all that. She could see some of the Danieri family, standing beside a black limousine parked four spaces from her Mercedes.
‘Over there,’ said Rob, indicating the far side of the road.
More parked cars, people milling about, everyone dressed in the
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