Omerta - Mario Puzo [5]
As for Astorre, he was part of the family, and closest to the Don as a titular nephew. But he seemed like a brother to the others because of his intense vitality and charm. From the age of three to sixteen he had been their intimate, the beloved youngest sibling—until his exile to Sicily eleven years before.
The Don planned his retirement carefully. He distributed his empire to placate potential enemies but also rendered tribute to loyal friends, knowing that gratitude is the least lasting of virtues and that gifts must always be replenished. He was especially careful to pacify Timmona Portella. Portella was dangerous because of his eccentricity and a passionate murderousness that sometimes had no relationship to necessity.
How Portella escaped the FBI blitz of the 1990s was a mystery to everyone. For he was an American-born don without subtlety, a man incautious and intemperate, with an explosive temper. He had a huge body with an enormous paunch and dressed like a Palermo picciotto, a young apprentice killer, all colors and silk. His power was based in the distribution of illegal drugs. He had never married and still at age fifty was a careless womanizer. He only showed true affection for his younger brother, Bruno, who seemed slightly retarded but shared his older brother’s brutality.
Don Aprile had never trusted Portella and rarely did business with him. The man was dangerous through his weakness, a man to be neutralized. So now he summoned Timmona Portella for a meeting.
Portella arrived with his brother, Bruno. Aprile met them with his usual quiet courtesy but came to the point quickly.
“My dear Timmona,” he said. “I am retiring from all business affairs except my banks. Now you will be very much in the public eye and you must be careful. If you should ever need any advice, call on me. For I will not be completely without resources in my retirement.”
Bruno, a small replica of his brother who was awed by the Don’s reputation, smiled with pleasure at this respect for his older brother. But Timmona understood the Don far better. He knew that he was being warned.
He nodded respectfully to the Don. “You have always showed the best judgment of us all,” he said. “And I respect what you are doing. Count on me as your friend.”
“Very good, very good,” the Don said. “Now, as a gift to you, I ask you to heed this warning. This FBI man, Cilke, is very devious. Do not trust him in any way. He is drunk with his success, and you will be his next target.”
“But you and I have already escaped him,” Timmona said. “Though he brought all our friends down. I don’t fear him but I thank you.”
They had a celebratory drink, and the Portella brothers left. In the car Bruno said, “What a great man.”
“Yes,” Timmona said. “He was a great man.”
As for the Don, he was well satisfied. He had seen the alarm in Timmona’s eyes and was assured there would no longer be any danger from him.
Don Aprile requested a private meeting with Kurt Cilke, the head of the FBI in New York City. Cilke, to the Don’s own surprise, was a man he admired. He had sent most of the East Coast Mafia chiefs to jail and almost broken their power.
Don Raymonde Aprile had eluded him, for the Don knew the identity of Cilke’s secret informer, the one who made