Omerta - Mario Puzo [60]
Astorre was shocked by the news but never questioned that he must obey. And though he yearned to be in Sicily again, he could not bear the thought of never seeing Rosie again. He said to Mr. Pryor, “If I visit London once a month, can I stay with you?”
“I would be insulted if you did not,” Mr. Pryor said. “But for what reason?”
Astorre explained about Rosie, professed his love for her.
“Ah,” Mr. Pryor said, sighing with pleasure. “How fortunate you are to be parted from the woman you love. True ecstasy. And that poor girl, how she will suffer. But go, don’t worry. Leave me her name and address so I can look after her.”
Astorre and Rosie had a tearful farewell. He swore he would fly back to London each month to be with her. She swore she would never look at another man. It was a delicious separation. Astorre would worry about her. Her appearance, her cheerful manner, her smile always invited seduction. The very qualities he loved her for were always a danger. He had seen it many times, as lovers always do, believing that all the men in the world must desire the woman he loved, that they too must be attracted to her beauty, her wit and high spirits.
Astorre was on the plane to Palermo the very next day. He was met by Bianco, but a drastically changed Bianco. The huge man now wore a tailored silk suit and white broad-brimmed hat. He dressed to fit his status, for now Bianco’s cosca ruled most of the construction business in war-ravaged Palermo. It was a rich living but far more complicated than in the old days. Now he had to pay off all the city and ministry officials from Rome and defend his territory from rival coscas like the powerful Corleonesi.
Octavius Bianco embraced Astorre and recalled the long-ago kidnapping and then told him of Don Raymonde’s instruction. Astorre was to be trained to be Bianco’s bodyguard and pupil in business deals. This would take at least five years, but at the end of that time, Astorre would be a true Sicilian and so worthy of his uncle’s trust. He had a head start: Because of his childhood visits he could speak the Sicilian dialect like a native.
Bianco lived in an enormous villa just outside Palermo, staffed with servants and a platoon of guards around the clock. Because of his wealth and power he was now connected intimately with the high society of Palermo. During the day Astorre was trained in shooting and explosives and instruction with the rope. In the evenings Bianco took him to meet friends in their homes and in the coffee bars. Sometimes they attended society dances, where Bianco was the darling of the rich conservative widows and Astorre sang gentle love songs to their daughters.
What amazed Astorre the most was the open bribery of high-placed officials from Rome.
One Sunday the national minister of reconstruction came to visit and cheerfully, without any trace of shame, took a suitcase full of cash, thanking Bianco effusively. He explained almost apologetically that half of it had to go to the prime minister of Italy himself. Later, when Astorre and Bianco were back home, Astorre asked if that was possible.
Bianco shrugged. “Not half, but I would hope some. It’s an honor to give His Excellency a little pocket money.”
During the following year Astorre visited Rosie in London, flying in for just one day and night at a time. These were nights of bliss for him.
Also, that year he had his baptism of fire. A truce had been arranged between Bianco and the Corleonesi cosca. A leader of the Corleonesi was a man named Tosci Limona. A small man with a terrible cough, Limona had a striking hawklike profile and deep-socketed eyes. Even Bianco voiced some fear of him.
The meeting between the two leaders was to take place on neutral ground and in the attendance of one of the highest-ranking magistrates in