GIOCO (English version) - ebook

1

Felix San Banksa, an aging gangster, sat in an armchair in the back of his office. He was browsing the newspaper, but not reading it at all. Instead, he was busying his mind to get rid of a strange feeling, a premonition about oncoming changes. He waved his left leg nervously as he sat with it crossed over his right one.

Finally, he uncrossed his legs and began tapping his toes on the floor. He couldn’t stand it. He stood, taking the newspaper with him, and hurried through the bedroom, straight to the toilet. He needed to ease the malicious call of nature as quickly as possible. Tossing the newspaper on one of the shelves, he grabbed a gray roll of toilet paper and tore off a few pieces, then arranged them meticulously around the toilet seat. Then he began to take off his pants. He had to fight a bit with the buttons as he hopped nervously from one foot to the other. He sat down.

Satisfied, Felix reached for the newspaper from the shelf, opened it again, and began to read. He sat for a moment and finished the session with satisfaction. After flushing the plentiful result of his efforts, he pulled his trousers up, then went to the window and opened it halfway. He walked out and slammed the door shut behind him.

The bothersome premonition, however, remained and was about to see the light of day. The boss walked back through the bedroom, whistling under his breath. A few steps before entering the office, he heard a loud greeting.

“Good morning, sir!”

“Well, I suppose it will come out soon,” he said aloud to himself, going back in and looking the man up and down.2

A messenger stood in the doorway. Felix felt that this man held in his hand the answer that would satisfy all his curiosity. He approached the messenger and took the scrap of paper without a word. The abashed informant left, ignoring the malicious joker with the confidential letter in his hand. San Banksa went to the desk, threw his creased newspaper on it, and sat down, resting his legs on the desktop for comfort. He began to read silently:

Règgio Di Calábria, 9 February 1930, Italy

This is an appeal to the other ruling houses in the south of Italy, which I send to the hands of all the fathers who keep order in our beloved country.

With unspeakable bitterness and pain in my heart, I inform you of the misfortune that fell on the house of San Giovi last Tuesday, around noon. An inexplicable accident occurred at the intersection of San Vivero and El Cabo. As a result, a businessman, the head of the house of San Giovi and my husband, died tragically.

I cannot understand why he died. I do not know why, and I suppose one of you knows more than I do. For years I have endured bravely at my husband’s side and have managed to get to know all the laws and rules that govern the south. I am tired of this swamp that has surrounded me and my relatives. I am washing my hands of it here and now. I do not want to be another victim of your businesses, which I suppose may happen soon.

I’m disgusted with everything, so I have decided to leave the San Giovi family. I’m going west, where your dirty hands will not reach me.

My husband’s funeral will take place in four days. Everyone who still has a bit of honor left, will appear at the Main Cemetery at noon and it will be your last chance to say goodbye to Geoffrey.

Margarett San Giovi

Naturally, this message did not make a special impression on him. So he tried to return his eyes once more to the more interesting lines, the ones he found most important. As the butler entered the room, San Banksa finally found and read aloud, “I do not know why, and I suppose one of you knows more than I do.” He laughed to himself. I know, he thought, but I won’t say.

The butler, surprised by the utterance from his master’s mouth, cocked his head inquisitively. His emphatically searching eyes and strange facial expression were immediately noticed.

“What the hell are you looking at?” San Banksa demanded. “It’s not my doing! Although, in fact, it could have been me. Nothing interesting’s been happening lately.” He tossed the paper carelessly onto the desk. “Besides, the families haven’t been around for years. I wouldn’t dare get rid of old Geoffrey.” He waved his hand several times in the air, pushing away all suspicion. “Karl, pour me a neat whiskey.”

The butler walked to a small bar near the wall and quickly made a drink. Then he went to the boss, handed him the liquor, and dared to ask after stepping to the side, “Why did the old man have to die?”

“You don’t know what’s going on? It’s always about one thing,” San Banksa explained, grabbing a thick wad of banknotes lying next to him. He held it close to his nose and enthusiastically inhaled the scent of money.3

The news from the embittered widow Margarett also reached the house of Donald Co Cafalat, falling directly into the hands of the elegant, dignified boss. He immediately read it in his office. He almost always sat in the office unless he was away from home. There was always someone around him, unlike in the case of San Banksa, at least a private butler or several bodyguards. He hated being alone, maybe because he liked to be admired. A single admirer was enough for him. Certainly this Narcissus wanted to show off his Italian suits, of which he bought more almost every day.

He stepped away from the window for a moment, interrupting his devotion to something interesting behind the glass. Stroking his extravagant tie with his left hand, he took the letter from his faithful butler and returned to his place in front of the window. He analyzed the note in his mind. Finally, with slight resignation, he began to talk to himself.

“Poor, stupid San Giovi. Who sets the burial day of the deceased on the thirteenth? It brings bad luck. I suppose she wants a quick and happy journey to the west.”

The smiling butler, however, asked from a distance, “Will we honor the late San Giovi on Friday, sir?”

“Why not? Poor Geoffrey. This is certainly Felix’s doing.” He left the window and mused for a moment. “Iset, get the car ready. We’re going shopping. I need to buy a nice suit. Many from the south will come down for the event.”

“Naturally, sir.”4

The last to receive the information about Geoffrey’s unexplained accident was Victor El Caballo, the most careful of all the surrounding businessmen. This gangster with a cowboy’s soul spent most of his life at the ranch. He loved horses, or at least he said so. A traditionalist, he had inherited this ranch from his father, who got it from his father, who got it from his—and so it went for more than six generations.

When the sad message was delivered, he was closing the low gate of the fence surrounding the equestrian paddock. He noticed a messenger coming toward him with a raised hand and a wad of paper. El Caballo unfolded it and read it immediately. He took off his cowboy hat and understood quickly that it would be necessary to put aside all pleasures and prepare for an unexpected funeral.5

February 13, 1930

Four days had passed since the announcement of the tragic death, the death of San Giovi that had occurred in the blink of an eye. That’s how Friday came, Friday the thirteenth of February 1930. It was an unfortunate day. Abundant rain was pouring from the sky and a dense fog was rising just above the surface of the earth. It was impossible to see one’s own feet. There was no sun. Even the wind blew harder than usual.

Noon was approaching. A congregation of bosses and gangsters began to gather at the Main Cemetery as had been written in the confidential message. Apparently, something very bad had been going on between the widow Margarett and her ex-husband since the old woman had decided to bury him in this place. The cemetery was definitely different from the others. It was noticeable at first glance. These types of places are not perceived as particularly romantic, but this one, the Main, was hopelessly gloomy and particularly dingy, so much that it could be felt. Even the bravest gangsters did not like strolling through the narrow alleyways between the tombstones in the middle of the night. But since old Margarett had chosen this place—well, everyone had to be there. These types of family gatherings serve the unique opportunity to capture fresh novelties from old friends, but somehow neither side enjoys it particularly. Certainly they would like to keep their secrets, but sooner or later someone asks one tricky question, and then its target bends and starts to fall.

Donald appeared first, of course, on time. He would have preferred to be late, but he thought that, firstly, it was better to be on time for the funeral, and secondly, he wanted a few minutes to himself to observe the other arrivals. He arrived like a master and ruler, literally drawing the attention of half of the cemetery. His gigantic black limousine stopped.

At once, a loyal butler jumped out of it with an umbrella for his master. The umbrella was, not surprisingly, gigantic in size. To be honest, it was like a canopy. He could have put five stout men under it. Despite this, Donald left the car while hiding very carefully under it. He did not want a drop of rain to fall on his luxurious clothing. One thing was certain: he had extremely sophisticated taste in fashion. His business card was always a well-tailored Italian suit. At that time, on this wretched day of mourning poor Geoffrey, he was wearing a dark suit with light, almost invisible, vertical stripes. It was decorated with all the accessories, including a black velvet waistcoat and a large olive scarf tied around his neck. A small gold pinned watch was attached to a chain that protruded from his jacket pocket. The look was completed by a wool coat that hung low to the ground. No wonder he tried not to let his clothes get wet. How much money he must have spent on his fashion wishes each year!

When he got out of his luxurious limousine, his legs emerged with all the pomp of a Hollywood star on the red carpet at the premiere of his most important movie. Everyone at the cemetery immediately began to look at him. They watched the newcomer with jealousy and fascination. On the low hill where the ceremony was to take place, there were not many onlookers. But that didn’t bother Donald. All that mattered was that someone was already there, a few ordinary gangsters who were dragged to this place by their vain curiosity.

Donald appeared first, so the two other fathers from the south of the country were still missing. Co Cafalat, when he had arrived so spectacularly, got a cane from the bodyguard. In return, he said something to him that wouldn’t have surprised anyone.

“Damn weather! It’ll destroy my new suit!”

Then he began to hobble elegantly toward the hill, where a small ruffianly rabble stood. Naturally, his bodyguard and the butler followed him, carefully holding the huge umbrella over him.

Felix San Banksa, of course, was a little late, but he did not care too much about it. In a simple but appealing way, he stepped out of his small blue car. He was dressed commonly, in an average suit. He saw that it was raining mercilessly. The butler spread the umbrella over him, then immediately handed him a glass box for his playing cards. Felix was a witty gentleman of a reasonable age, but with his irreplaceable deck of playing cards, like with a beloved girlfriend, he never parted. He could not get them wet. His meticulous butler, always ready for this kind of situation, took a glass box from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to his master. Felix took it and put all his cards in, as gently and sensitively as if they were made of glass themselves. Immediately they went to where Donald and a large group of inquisitive people stood. As they walked, Felix began nodding his head. He did not particularly like rain. He was always bored when it rained. Anyway, nobody would like the weather like this. The rain did not seem to stop even for a moment. Felix looked at the sky as if he were turning to God directly.

“A little sunshine would come in handy. Not too much.”

He had almost reached the hill, where he spotted his friend Donald with his bodyguard and the butler, plus an umbrella that was not to be overlooked. He casually looked to his left. Victor had just arrived on one of his horses. This amused Felix because he’d been certain he would see nothing more absurd that day than the gigantic canopy gripped by the poor butler, who slowly began to lose feeling in his hands. Victor arrived at an easy pace as his faithful horse took him to the very hill.

Felix simply couldn’t refrain from commenting on what he had just seen. “Oh, my old friends are coming,” he concluded under his breath. Then he immediately kissed the box with the card deck.

The whole gang from the south was almost at the destination. The only thing missing was the priest, though in the hollow in the ground there was already an elongated coffin with a dead man inside. Just above the cavity was a poorly constructed wooden sign:

GEOFFREY SAN GIOVI

LIFE IS THE MOMENT OF ETERNITY

The rain was falling relentlessly from the gray sky, so a swamp started to form around and in the hole itself. The view was nasty. In the priest’s absence, the three bosses began to nervously observe each other. Felix glanced at Donald—honestly, he measured him from the very bottom to the top. Then Donald started watching Victor. Elegant Co Cafalat, convinced of his intellectual and visual superiority to the others, approached Felix to begin the dialogue. Of course, Victor noticed it immediately. Not one to be left behind, he went over to his two colleagues to exchange a few words or at least to overhear something from the side. Suddenly, however, the three of them noticed a limousine of unknown ownership approaching in their direction. A priest and a teenage girl in a cherry-colored dress got out of the car. Victor and Felix immediately realized the girl must be the daughter of widow Margarett and the unfortunate dead Geoffrey. They also noticed that the old woman was missing.

Of course, Felix always had an appropriate comment for every situation. “Where’s the old woman? She already managed to escape to the west? She’s fast! I wanted so badly to say hello!”

This statement brought smiles to the faces of Co Cafalat and El Caballo. The three of them stood together, each in his own way measuring the young San Giovi with his eyes. The girl seemed to Victor, at first glance, an ordinary girl in a decidedly Parisian dress and a black hat with a large graphite silk scarf. Ordinary, not threatening him or anything around him, a young teenager. Certainly Donald Co Cafalat would like her. However, Victor himself did not start with considerations of fashion. Only one thing bothered him.

“Who will take over the business?” He turned to his butler. He must have accumulated something over the years.

Felix’s expression was more vivid. He began to listen carefully to his friend.

“They do not have a son, sir,” the butler said.

Felix was more interested in this conversation.

“He didn’t have any offspring?” Victor said, aghast.

This statement slightly annoyed the other bosses because they had already realized the girl’s identity. Victor kept a stony face, but Felix couldn’t resist. He boldly turned his eyes and spoke quite intentionally.

“He had a daughter.” He immediately pointed at the girl who had almost arrived with the priest at the burial site. The girl in the maroon dress.

“You must be joking.”

Co Cafalat thought for a moment. “Hmm . . . let’s go and say hi.”

He began to move forward with the butler and the bodyguard in the direction of the girl and the priest. They stopped the pair a few steps away from the gathering. Co Cafalat greeted them cordially and offered his sincere condolences.

Meanwhile, Felix started a dialogue with Victor: “Well, it’s a pity for all these years of work, hard work, sacrifices, devotions, work, work, work. By the way, now, when the old woman fled west, they could have divided all their belongings equally into three allotments and gave out a posthumous gift.”

Victor, hearing more and more strange words falling from the mouth of his friend, began to frown and look at him oddly. “For the sake of our old colleagues—”

However, Felix continued. “And for peace that has never been shaken. Of course, everything would be reasonably managed and developed as it should be—”

“Sure, sure.” El Caballo interrupted his stream of words. “People don’t change, Felix. Moreover, there’s still a daughter. Well, unless you clean her up, too.”

“Me?! Do you think it was me? God, I’m blushing. Thank you for the compliment, but this time it wasn’t my work. Believe me!” He suddenly pointed at the place where the deceased lay. The coffin was almost barely visible because the rain had turned the entire hollow of the ground to mud. “Hey, you! I suppose you’ll know best about it! Huh-uh. This time it wasn’t me.”

Donald, accompanied by the young San Giovi and the priest, finally came to the place of the rite.

Victor spoke quietly to Felix. “Well, maybe the show will start now.”

“I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever,” the priest said.

San Banksa opened his mouth discreetly and turned his head sharply.

“Geoffrey passed away.” The priest continued. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

The priest was officiating the funeral very quickly and meticulously. Everyone gathered was frozen in the rain. The three bosses watched the newly discovered girl for as long as possible. They were not particularly interested in the dead man; they had plenty of opportunity to admire the negative things in their lives. They were seeing the girl for the first time and wanted to observe her movements, facial expressions, reactions, any emotions that would reveal her character and way of thinking. She seemed weak to all these fathers, maybe just because she was a woman, a young girl. Certainly, this gender had never been welcomed at the highest levels of the business, not at all. Nevertheless, by some incomprehensible state of affairs, they felt some respect for her—little, but it was there. They began to see their opponent from minute to minute. However, by the end, they still had not captured what they felt. Elegant Co Cafalat, cowboy El Caballo, and sarcastic San Banksa were not able to determine clearly what to think about this new person. She was so foreign to them, yet strangely close. She was one of them.6

Six months later

Holy Saturday

“Hmm . . . so obviously the little one took her wretched role of businesswoman quite seriously.” San Banksa turned sarcastically to his butler. “Ha! Her money has really flourished. I wonder how she did it. It would be good to find out a few things here and there. And preferably from her own lips.”

Felix was very excited. He did not know whether it was from the nerves or from the weight of the emotions that had suddenly fallen on him. Either way, he knew he was going to have an amazing adventure. He was sitting at his desk in the office and analyzing the longawaited message, but it was not as predictable to the end as he’d expected. Let’s establish the facts: this message completely surprised him. At first he didn’t believe what he was reading, what he held in his hands. He couldn’t have supposed that anything like that would happen.

In fact, the three older men from the south, including Felix, were not bothered by the fact that there had been no male offspring in the San Giovi home because none of them had ever heard of one. Therefore, all the belongings of old San Giovi must have fallen to Geoffrey’s daughter. However, this fact amused the bosses. They were carrying plenty of baggage already; they had their own problems along with numerous duties to fulfill, and they were not in a hurry to offer any help to a lost girl. The only thing they did was to diplomatically remain silent. They simply waited. They waited for a solution to this inconvenient business accident. The bosses did not want to interfere with extraneous problems because doing so had been strictly forbidden a few decades before.

But there was a second reason they didn’t interfere: they were quietly counting on the fact that on the occasion of eliminating one of the four fathers, their own earnings would begin to double. Indeed, they grew a bit just after Friday the thirteenth. The old heads gave her a year, at most a year and a half. They were convinced that the girl would drag all her deceased father’s belongings to the bottom, and they did not care. As Geoffrey’s only child, the teenager was supposed to manage everything that had once been once owned by the old man. Left to herself, she started to run everything on her own account. And so it went day by day, week after week.

San Banksa read the information again and again. It said that the unobserved daughter of the late Geoffrey had managed to conduct business almost instantly and make a lot of cash in only a few weeks. She had already nearly doubled her father’s holdings. This unpleasant message reached all the bosses’ houses one by one. It had long been known that each boss thought and lived in his own style, but now they all set the same goal: to find out how this inexperienced girl managed to earn so much cash in such a short time. They were undoubtedly curious about her unusual ability.

After receiving the message, Felix decided to act immediately. He got up from the desk and at once began to plot. He wished to send one of his leeches to uncover all the dirty methods in the systems of the young San Giovi. He wanted to explore the secrets of this momentum of business growth. And as he decided, he did. He went vigorously down the stairs to the ground floor, then through the hall and straight into the courtyard. He was very happy. Suddenly he felt that something interesting might happen in his life. He loved this risky kind of game. Already in the courtyard, he quickly looked to the left and right and finally saw a group of six suspicious types. They were, of course, his gangsters. He recognized them, nodded, and waved his finger. They came in a hurry.

“Gentlemen, there’s a job. I need one of you right away. It must be someone good. Maybe you, Louis? You were once a murderer, then a detective in the municipal police, right? I think you would be perfect. What do you think?” He turned to the dingy bandit, who was visibly happy about the new job.

The man frowned, then smiled stupidly. “Well, I can be,” he answered.

After hearing this response, Felix only replied, “Come on.” They went back to the office together to discuss the sinister details there.

In the courtyard, and more specifically on its clock, it was already beginning to strike twelve o’clock when San Banksa and his man managed to arrive deep enough into the estate to discuss their plan of action. The boss stopped abruptly and pondered, and after a moment it looked as if some crazy new thought had suddenly occurred to him. He immediately wanted to share it.

“Look! Twelve o’clock! The little one is probably at the church, painting her colorful eggs.”

People under San Banksa’s rule were used to these kinds of innovative thoughts. Nevertheless, Felix could have been right about the location of the girl. The day was Holy Saturday. All the gangsters, bandits, brigands, robbers, and torturers from the south of the country had gone to the Great Church.

In the office together, they began to discuss their evil plan with extraordinary fascination and sick fantasy. Felix, however, did not think, from where he stood, of what unprecedented events and unusual circumstances still waited for him along his way.