Excerpt of Pursuit by Harry Taylor

ITALY 1989 Set in an idyllic location amid acre upon acre of lush green meadowland, the homestead was surmounted by large rambling hills to the distant skyline. The landscape to the old rustic building was a profusion of flowering shrubs surrounding an immaculate lawn and enclosed within a low mellow stone wall. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers, while overhead birds in trees were in full voice. It was a beautiful summer’s afternoon with the sun beaming down on this idyllic setting when the peace and serenity was disturbed by the sound of a small Fiat truck as it turned off the distant highway to slowly trundle along a weather-beaten tree lined track leading towards the homestead and home of the Virenti family. With dust settling in its wake the truck eventually came to a halt on a large circular gravel courtyard some twenty feet from the main entrance to the house. Slowly the front passenger door opened as a young woman, wearing a pale yellow summer dress with flowing skirt, alighted from the vehicle as the driver cut the engine. From behind the steering wheel a young Italian male eased his slim frame to the ground and walked around the back of the truck to join her, as he did so, three small children ran from the house to greet them. Two girls ran towards the woman shouting in excitement, and hugging her around the legs, while a young boy ran straight into the arms of the man who lifted him high into the air before kissing him gently upon the cheek. Their mother hailed them loudly from the doorway and in response the girls each took a hand of the woman to lead her inside their home. The man followed at a leisurely pace talking to the young boy in his arms. Soon afterwards, a car turned off the highway to start its journey towards the homestead, it was quickly followed by another, and then another, until a steady procession built up. All the occupants received a warm welcome from the family hostess as they disembarked from their vehicles before being ushered indoors. Finally, a large black Mercedes sedan completed the tail as it made its way slowly towards the courtyard, where it came to a halt and parked up with the other vehicles. The driver alighted quickly from his seat to open the passenger door behind him, allowing the large frame of Massimo Pulverenti to emerge from the vehicle. A guard riding in the front passenger seat did likewise to open the other rear door to enable an elegantly dressed, dark-haired young woman, to also alight from the vehicle. With their feet barely touching the ground, family members and guests came out to greet them warmly as the children ran around excitedly. The children knew that when Uncle Musso, as he was affectionately known, came visiting, then presents came too. Amid much noise and laughter the children were all ushered back into the house, from where, minutes later, they emerged onto the patio at the rear of the house where a large oblong table was being prepared for their Sunday lunch. Several wine bottles were already open with corks scattered on the table. Many of the women were busy in the kitchen preparing food and carrying it out to the table while their men folk stood quietly in groups discussing events of the past weeks. Their Sunday host this month was Giano Andretti and he embraced Musso warmly as they met, patting him several times on the back of his shoulder before gently kissing his uncle’s lady lightly on both cheeks and then offering refreshments. The lady requested a white wine, Uncle Musso a heavy red, and after dispensing the same and greeting all men present, Giano disappeared into the kitchen to help with food preparation while Uncle Musso eased his large frame into a voluminous garden chair to savor the bouquet of the fine red wine. Lighting one of his favorite large Havana cigars he blew a stream of smoke into the air and gazed at the men folk around. Musso enjoyed family gatherings, held once a month and as far back into his childhood as he cared to remember, and always at a different venue. It was a time of relaxation and calm, away from the stress of business life, although today an important matter had to be discussed, but that was for much later in the afternoon. “Uncle Musso. Do you have any presents for us?” The fresh, mischievous face of Giano junior beamed at him as the other children quickly gathered around waiting in eager anticipation. “Giano, that’s not polite. Uncle Musso’s only just arrived and he’s having a rest so you all go and play!” Giano’s father exclaimed as he stepped out from the house. Little Giano’s face fell. Baleful blue eyes glanced from his father up to Uncle Musso. “But Papa, Uncle Musso said…” “Giano!” His father’s voice was sharp, stopping the little one in his tracks. “Here, here now Papa.” Uncle Musso spoke in a comforting tone, “The little one is only doing what Uncle asked of him, aren’t you Giano?” Musso smiled and winked an eye at the little boy standing before him. The little face of Giano broke into a big smile and he tried to wink an eye in reply, causing the men sitting around to laugh at his attempt. “Uncle, don’t encourage him,” Giano senior laughed. “Can you remember what you asked me for?” Uncle Musso asked. “You don’t remember Uncle?” the little boy responded. “Well now young man. When people reach an older age, like Uncle Musso, you tend to forget things.” “You never forget Uncle!” “Why do you say that?” “Coz you don’t, and you once said...,” he spluttered quickly, “You once said that an elephant has a long memory and so do I.” “I said that?” “Yes, you did Uncle.” “I also heard you,” chipped in another little boy standing beside them. “Well now,” Uncle Musso studied the expectant faces in front of him. “If two of you heard me then I must have said it. So let’s see. Hmm…,” he paused, rubbing his chin, “If I remember correctly Giano, you wanted a bicycle.” The boy nodded his head eagerly in anticipation. “And little Renza wanted a football,” he glanced at the second boy, whose face lit up. “Jessica said she would like a new dress - in pink and white. Like the one she showed me in the magazine.” Jessica nodded eagerly from the crowd. Musso then reeled off several more names and requests before finally saying, “There you see – Uncle didn’t forget!” Silence ensued as little faces peered at him in anticipation, waiting for him to show them their gifts. The children glanced from one to another and all around them but gifts were not to be seen. Finally little Giano stepped forward to touch Musso on the knee three times with the forefinger of his right hand. “But where are they?” he asked. “Yes, where are they?” chorused the others. “Do you mean to say that you’ve been here all this time and you’ve not seen them? Have any of you been into the family room?” The children exchange puzzled glances. Eyes questioned each other. “The family room Giano, the family room,” a voice in the crowd urged. Then, with a shriek, Giano and all the other children turned and bolted for the house. Seconds later, even louder shrieks of delight could be heard from within, followed quickly by Giano hurtling at speed out of the door astride his new bicycle. All laughed as he vanished from view behind a tall hedge. By this time the dining table had been prepared and as they discarded their kitchen aprons the ladies called out to the men to take their seats. An Italian lunch is a pleasurable experience and one that usually takes several hours with a whole selection of foods being consumed and fine wine appreciated. Banter is exchanged across the table with many, many, topics under discussion. This Sunday was no different. At times it became difficult to hear what others were saying; with raised voices competing as the afternoon wore on and alcohol took its effect. Gradually the table began to break away as coffee and liquors were taken in the comfort of easy chairs. The women busied themselves clearing the table while men took to their leisure. Cigarette smoking began in earnest. Later as daylight began to fade and evening approached, the women gathered together to speak of what they had done since they were last together, while the men encircled to raise and discuss the main topic of the day - the release of Toni Virenti from a prison in the north of England. The conviction of Virenti in an English court for the slaying of a British lawyer and his family had garnered headline news in the press and extensive television coverage. The conviction had brought anger from the Italian community that believed it was an unfair and unjust trial. In an act of revenge and on discreet instruction from the Mafia via Uncle Musso’s office, Italian companies cancelled many lucrative contracts with British companies and those in place suffered severe setbacks. Diplomatic relations became, and still remained, fractious. The anger continued to fester in the community with demands of reprisals. Uncle Musso received many calls offering assistance. Politely he offered thanks to all while mentioning he may take up their offer at an appropriate time in the future. He had met with their Prime Minister who knew that at some time there would be reprisals. The Prime Minister stressed that whatever the outcome, no harm should come to British subjects who were caring for Virenti in the UK. Bloodshed should not be an issue for it was not they, but the judicial system that had sentenced Virenti to life imprisonment. Musso’s reply was polite but without assurance. No guarantees were given. He advised that their country’s top criminal experts, albeit Mafia, had studied the case and concluded that there had been a miscarriage of justice. Some person, or persons, had been approached. All involved would be found and dealt with and no matter what it took; Virenti would be released - by fair means or force. The Prime Minister had shuddered at the last underlying threat and advised Musso not to be too hasty because he had been informed that initially Virenti would be under close surveillance, but this would ease off after the passage of time. “Musso, how long are we going to wait before we free Virenti?” a voice enquired. “Yes. It’s time for action,” another member raised his voice. Quietly Musso gazed from one face to another. “Do you have a plan?” he enquired. With furrowed brows the two exchanged glances. “A plan!” they exclaimed. “Yes, a plan!” chipped in another voice. “We don’t need one of those. We will just go and do our stuff.” “Listen to Musso you fool,” a senior now spoke, “this is not like one of your jobs here.” Musso interrupted, “I said at the onset that we would have to be patient. In the beginning too much attention was being paid to Antonio but now that’s finished.” “How do we know that?” a young voice enquired. Musso cast him a scathing glance. Anger was rising within but he calmed himself before responding. The boy was much too young to know how things worked and he would forgive him on this occasion for his insolence. “It’s for me to know what goes on everywhere young man, not you. If you ever rise to be the head of this family then you’ll understand how everything works. Do I make myself clear?” The young man bowed his head at the severity of the voice. “One day you may learn many things,” Musso continued, “We are family,” he gestured with open arms to all around, “We are not restricted to the few of us gathered here today. We are a family worldwide. Have you heard of Paulo? He is in Brazil. Alberto, he’s in Australia. Romeo’s in Canada, Carlo is in Spain, Giovanni is in America and Giuseppe’s in England. We have eyes and ears everywhere. That’s how we know. Now, does anyone have a plan?” “Can we get a retrial?” a voice enquired. “I am not sure. It may be a possibility.” “Are you doing anything?” “We’re considering it as an option. In the UK there’s an exceptional barrister who wins cases that appear totally lost. He even wins cases for celebrities who appear so obviously guilty,” Musso paused to glance at each of the faces around him, “but we have our own expert who achieves similar success.” “But how long is that going to take if lawyers are involved?” “In truth I don’t know, that is the best answer I can give. We have already started making enquiries but we must proceed with caution. Any other ideas?” “Bust him out!” a voice encouraged. “Explain!” Uncle Musso fixed Toni Virenti’s twin brother Luigi with a stare. “I have an idea but we need assistance.” 7 “Like?” “Explosive experts and pilots.” Musso grimaced. This was gung-ho stuff with people dying everywhere. “No doubt you have thought this through?” Musso fixed his nephew with a hard stare, “Such an operation is dangerous, and much too risky. If it fails and we get caught then more of our people will be imprisoned and you’re forgetting the Prime Minister’s warning.” “To hell with the Prime Minister,” the young man retorted, “it’s not his brother that’s locked away.” “I appreciate your feelings Luigi, but we must proceed with caution.” “I know how we can do it,” a bespectacled young farming boy spoke hesitantly. “You do?” Musso enquired with surprise. The boy was the twelve year old son of his cousin. He was always quiet and reserved, with his life wrapped up in the countryside. But the boy was very knowledgeable if you engaged him in conversation about animals and their environment. “Yes!” the boy responded. “How Horace? Tell me!” “Be like the fox.” Immediately laughter ensued from all around and some chided the young man. “Don’t listen to him uncle. He’s nuts,” a voice called out. “Loop the loop,” chided another. “He spends that much time with animals he’s beginning to think like them,” another voice chipped in. Musso remained silent, waiting for the laughter to subside. His mind going back to his youth when he and Antonio’s father used to watch birds of prey and learn how animals like the fox lived by their wits. He scanned the faces of the family seated before him. All wanted Antonio free but with little thought of how to achieve it. “You may laugh, all of you. But this suggestion may be the answer to the question. If you are from the country, you know animals are survivors. The fox is one of the best and craftiest survivors of them all.” They were all silent now as he turned his attention to the young man, “You know how the fox lives, don’t you? The boy glanced nervously at the family around him. Most of them lived in towns and cities, not many were from the country. He caught the eye of his brother, who with a slight inclination of his head, urged him to go on. “Yes, sir.” “How would the fox go about this?” “With stealth, sir.” “Stealth!” “Yes! The fox is cunning. He is one of the most cunning of animals. He plans ahead. He has escape routes if attacked. He leaves his hunters searching where he is not, while watching them from afar. The fox carefully picks off his prey and repeats his act, time and time again, from under the noses of those set out to capture him.” “Do you know how he would do this, how he would free Antonio?” This time the boy’s glance was unwavering. His eyes were set and fixed firmly on those of Uncle Musso. In an instant, without the boy uttering a single word, Musso knew the answer. The telepathy between them was strong. The path was clear - “Take the hens to get to the eggs.” When the message was complete the boy’s eyes blinked rapidly together and briefly he shook his head. The telepathy was only a matter of seconds but during that time a quiet stillness came over the whole family gathered together. A feeling, as though a spirit had moved amongst them. Uncle Musso smiled at the boy before he spoke, “Thank you,” then he glanced around the family, “The boy is right. The way of the fox will spring Antonio from his trap but you have to be patient for some time to come. Many bridges shall be crossed before we strike like the fox, but there will be no killings, no bloodshed.” He paused before emphasizing his next deliverance, “Take this as a warning,” his eyes scanned the faces before him to ensure all were listening – “If anyone, and I do mean anyone,” Luigi was his focus, “mentions one word of this outside the family then my wrath will descend upon you in no uncertain manner. I hope I have made myself clear.” With reluctance Luigi confirmed with a slight inclination of his head. “Right. From tomorrow I will plan the strategy. By this time next week our operation will have begun in earnest. Agreed? “Agreed!” Their combined voices spoke as one. In fact there was no option. When a Mafia Godfather speaks, all obey. The rule was clear and defined. “Business over, let’s have more wine,” Musso enthused, stirring them back into life. Young Horace rose to stride over and stand before Musso, “Sit down son,” Musso instructed, pointing to a chair. The boy glanced behind him, spotted a nearby chair and dragged it over to sit in front of the family senior. “Only you and I know how we will free Antonio. It has to remain that way.” A puzzled expression crossed the boy’s face. “But we are all family,” he gestured to everyone around them. “Sure, sure, but trust me. Some will be inclined to boast and brag about how we will free Antonio - if words reach the wrong ears, our plans could be ruined. Do you understand?” “Yes sir.” “Can I help?” “Not immediately, but later perhaps. First, I have to send older and experienced people to see Antonio.” “When will you start?” “We started some time ago. The family is not aware that people are already in place in England. They know my niece is living in America but that is all they know. No one has thought to ask as to why she is there.” Musso drew heavily on the Havana and watched the smoke thoughtfully as it escaped from his lips. Yes, his niece had done well. She was just where he needed her to be, but America was not a problem - it was a country infiltrated with Italians and even the young ones born there were expected to answer the call from the home country. He smiled quietly to himself and addressed the child again. “The Mafia is strong. It has contacts everywhere, even today. Many thought it had been removed, especially in the Bronx in the US, but we Italians are not stupid. Let them believe what they will. One does not relinquish power just like that.” Inwardly he chuckled. “If people only knew who controls some of the biggest corporate and legal practices in the States - hey, who’s controlling the Senate? - Who guides the President? The young boy gulped in amazement. He knew the family were strong in their own country, but in America? How could that be? But it had to be true. Uncle Musso had told him and Uncle Musso was the big father. He liked Uncle, not just because he was a big man but because he was compassionate, always enquiring after the boy’s family if they were not with him, and he was there helping everyone if they were ever in need. He had heard stories that Uncle was a vicious person, a person held in reverence, not to be crossed. Everything he heard though was through a close friend and even to him words were whispered. No one dared to say anything bad, or speak out against him. He had heard stories of people being blown away, of shops, cars, houses being torched with the word that it was Uncle’s doing. The boy never commented on the things he heard. Maybe they were true, maybe not, but for him it was hard to believe. His observation had always been of a kind man. “Will I go to England?” he enquired. “Quite possible, quite possible, when you are older eh?” Musso smiled and patted him gently on the head, “Go join your friends. We will talk again soon.” The boy rose from his seat, thanked Uncle, and strode away beaming. Musso re-lit his Havana and sat quietly, deep in thought about what to do about England. Luigi came to mind but assigning him would not be right, even though he had mellowed a little since his father’s death had been avenged, and he had fallen in love with an English girl who had had a big influence on him since he persuaded her to come to Italy and live with him. She was not to know of the kind of work that he did. Luigi was too much of a risk to send now, especially as it was his twin brother imprisoned in England. ‘Hmm,’ Musso paused in thought as a fresh idea immediately came to mind. The identical twin angle could be just the answer to Antonio’s escape from the country. He would bear that in mind for later. The sound of laughter from the dining table disturbed his thoughts, causing him to glance in that direction. Luigi was the center of attention as he stood behind his girl with his arms around her waist attempting to fend off questions from all the ladies present, as to when they could expect the announcement of the wedding day.