Omerta - Mario Puzo [109]
In his early youth Mr. Pryor had been one of the prized assassins of the Palermo Mafia. But he had seen the light and gone into banking, where his natural charm, intelligence, and criminal connections ensured his success. In essence, he became a Mafia banker to the world. He was soon an expert in currency-rate storms and the stashing of black money. He also had a talent for buying legitimate businesses at good prices. Eventually he had emigrated to England because the fairness of the English system could better protect his wealth than the bribery in Italy.
However, his long arm still stretched out to Palermo and the United States. And he was the prime banker for Bianco’s cosca in their control of construction in Sicily. He also was the link between the Aprile banks and Europe.
Now, with all the police activity, he was reminded of a possible danger point: Rosie. She could link Astorre to the Sturzo brothers. Also, Mr. Pryor knew Astorre had a weak spot and still took some comfort in Rosie’s charms. This did not make him respect Astorre any less; this weakness in men had existed since the beginning of recorded time. And Rosie was such a Mafioso girl. Who could resist her? But as much as he admired the girl, he did not think it wise to have her around.
So he decided to take a part in this affair as he had once done in London. He knew he would not win Astorre’s approval for such an act—he knew Astorre’s character and did not underestimate his dangerousness. But Astorre was always a reasonable man. Pryor would persuade him after the fact, and Astorre would recognize the sagacity behind the deed.
But it had to be done. So Mr. Pryor called Rosie one evening. She was delighted to hear from him, especially when he assured her he had good news. When he hung up the phone he let out a sigh of regret.
He took his two nephews with him as drivers and bodyguards. He left one in the car outside the building and took the other up with him to Rosie’s apartment.
Rosie greeted them by running into Mr. Pryor’s arms, startling his nephew, who made a motion inside his jacket.
She had made coffee and served a dish of pastries that she said were specially imported from Naples. They tasted nothing like it to Mr. Pryor, who considered himself to be an expert in such matters.
“Ah, you’re such a sweet girl,” Mr. Pryor said. To his nephew he said, “Here, try one.” But the nephew had retreated into a corner of the room and sat in a chair to watch this little comedy his uncle was playing.
Rosie thumped Mr. Pryor’s homburg lying beside him and said mischievously, “I like your English bowler better. You didn’t look so stuck-up then.”
“Ah,” Mr. Pryor said with great good humor, “when one changes one’s country, one must always change one’s hat. And, my dear Rosie, I’m here to ask you a great favor.”
He caught her slight hesitation before she clapped her hands in glee. “Oh, you know I will,” she said. “I owe you so much.” Mr. Pryor was softened by her sweetness, but what had to be done had to be done.
“Rosie,” he said, “I want you to arrange your affairs so that tomorrow you can leave for Sicily, but just for a short time. Astorre is waiting for you there, and you must deliver some papers to him from me, in the strictest confidence. He misses you and wants to show you Sicily.”
Rosie blushed. “He really wants to see me?”
“Of course,” Mr. Pryor said.
The truth was that Astorre was on his way home from Sicily and would be in New York the following night. Rosie and Astorre would cross paths over the Atlantic Ocean in their separate planes.
Rosie now became businesslike as a form of coyness. “I can’t get away so quickly,” she said. “I’d need to get reservations, go to the bank, and a lot of other little things.”
“Don’t think me presumptuous,” Mr. Pryor said. “But I’ve arranged everything.”
He took a long white envelope from inside his jacket. “This is your plane ticket,” he said. “First-class. And also ten thousand American dollars to do some last-minute shopping and for travel expenses. My nephew, sitting there dazzled in the corner, will pick