See Naples and Die (23 page)

Zico turned to Tigran. “You have done
well, Sadorian. Today I will have my information returned, I will take your
present of the gold, and I will eliminate my greatest foe.”

Roberto spoke up. “It’s too late for
that, Zico. We’ve made many copies of the data, and our deaths will not end
your demise but will be the catalyst for it. However, if we live then we are
prepared to trade.”

Zico laughed, a scornful rumble bursting
from a barrel chest. “And were these copies stored at 47 Garstang Road in the
East End of London? And would that be the same property that was completely
destroyed by fire this morning? It was bad. It took another six houses with it,
with white-hot heat destroying everything inside. I hear it’s already making
the early news bulletins. I’m surprised we can’t see the smoke from here.”

“The copies are already with our people
in Naples,” replied Roberto.

“I don’t think so,” smiled Zico. “You
may have fed some instructions to your people about certain issues but I think
we nipped this particular bud just in time, and with you out of the way I can’t
see your men wanting to pursue this complicated trail.”

He turned to the girls. “And you three …
It’s almost too lenient to simply murder you in this field. I would have liked
you to suffer … Perhaps I can think of something.”

His smile disappeared, and he now cast a
terrifying figure.

Armando spoke up. “You forget that we
all have weapons and snipers in the bushes. If we are to die then so are you.”

Zico’s eyes went black. “I think you’ll
find that it is I who has a sniper in the bushes. Your man was the first to
die. You know I like my Hollywood movies, especially Westerns, so today is the
Gunfight
at the O.K. Corral
.”

“You’re a madman, Scarpone,” added
Armando.

“Maybe,” said Zico, “but if you look
around it is you who are surrounded and outnumbered, so I must have got
something right.”

Tigran adjusted his body and loosened up
his neck muscles. “Do I have my guarantees, Don Scarpone?”

Zico’s mood became less confrontational,
“Of course, Sadorian. Everything as agreed. Your role in the organisation is
assured.”

“Then I am your man,” said Tigran.

Then without warning Caesar Magri vented
his fury at the Armenian. “You untrustworthy animal … you tried to murder
Angelo.”

Tigran was taken aback, “I did not …”
but before he could add to this Caesar had shot him three times and he fell to
the floor.

What happened next took no more than thirty
seconds, but to everyone there it was an eternity. The Armenian with the sniper
rifle saw his leader hit, and immediately fired at Caesar. The first shot hit
him in the side of the head, and it was immaterial where the second landed. As
Caesar toppled to the ground the Scarpones assumed that Armando had opened fire,
and so everyone went crazy.

  The enforcers moved forward, firing at
will. Armando was hit first and fell backward. Beppe opened fire with his M20-K,
and two of the enforcers were riddled with bullets. Then Luca Scarpone and
Carlito Chiellini both emptied their handgun magazines into his body, and with
blood spilling from his mouth Beppe collapsed against the Peugeot. Megan,
Chrissie, and Roberto were trying to shelter behind the cars, with Brenda left
out in the open. Chrissie shouted for her to run and she darted towards them,
but a bullet from one of the two remaining enforcers brought her down and she
lay motionless on the damp turf. Chrissie screamed and covered her eyes.

The Scarpones were now in a line moving
forward when the two Armenians who had been with Tigran and their colleague in
the trees made a decision on who their enemies were, and opened fire. The
leading enforcer and Carlito Chiellini were both hit several times before Zico,
aiming his pistol with the coolness of a polar bear catching a salmon, found
both assassins with bullets to the heart.

In the trees the sniper was lining up a
perfect hit to the evil Mafia don’s head, his finger caressing the trigger,
when a six-inch blade sliced into his kidneys and the weapon fell to the
ground. A satisfied grunt from Claudio – unaware of his error – was the last
thing the Armenian heard. Then Claudio, still too weak to remove the knife,
once more fell into unconsciousness.

Down in the field Roberto had opened the
door of the Mercedes, and the keys dangled invitingly in the ignition.

“Get in. You drive, Chrissie,” he
shouted, and threw himself across the back seat – with Megan immediately
landing on top of him and Chrissie jumping into the driver’s seat. The car
started first time – as you would expect from German engineering – and they
sped away, with both doors still open and the car veering left and right as if
about to flip over. The engine screamed in first gear until Chrissie’s brain
eventually told her to close the door and move up to a higher gear as quickly
as possible. Zico and Luca fired a few shots at the disappearing car, but then
the gunfire stopped and it was all over.

As the smoke from the battle drifted
away Zico scanned the carnage.

“What a balls-up,” he said. Then he
noticed the bulk of Tigran Sadorian trying to crawl. He rushed over and lifted
the Armenian’s head. “Tigran, my indestructible friend, it’s a miracle you live
… but now the future is good. I will see you are attended to, and all the
things you desired will come about. I am a man of my word and I have promised
you guarantees. But before we can fly you to a doctor you must also keep your
word and show me where the gold is. It is your duty … it is your promise. We
must both be true to our promises, and this was yours.”

With the help of his brother Luca they
lifted Tigran to his feet. He couldn’t raise his arms but his eyes pointed to a
spot just off the road, and Luca and the remaining enforcer dragged him across
the field. After fifty yards Tigran dropped his head and they lowered him to
the ground. With a monumental effort he ran his hand across the dirt, just
enough to reveal wooden planks beneath. Zico and Luca hurriedly began to pull
away the sods and dirt to finally expose a wooden frame and a six-foot door set
horizontally. It was padlocked, and Zico moved away while Luca blasted the lock
until it snapped apart. They lifted the door and could see a small room below, which
was just high enough to stand in. A mound of earth constructed in a disabled
access-type slope led the way inside.

Zico pushed the prostrate Armenian on to
the slope and, in immense pain, he rolled down. The only light was from the
open door, but as their eyes adjusted they could make out a concrete room big
enough to hold a party in. Unbeknown to them this bunker had been built during
the war as a safe haven for the RAF top brass in the event of a prolonged air
raid or, even worse, an attack from the German V-2 rockets.

Now it was cold and smelly – a forgotten
part of a distant past. But Tigran’s Armenian fruit pickers had stumbled across
it, and had used it for storing contraband from small-scale burglaries and
other pilfering. When they’d been contacted for a safe place to hide sixty-two million
pounds of gold bullion they had thought it ideal. It was a little bit like
leaving your life’s savings under a beach towel while you go for a swim, but in
their eyes nowhere could be better.

Zico looked around as best he could in
the semi-darkness. A lawnmower, a couple of flat-screen TVs, and a few other
odds and sods were all he could see. He wasn’t a patient man, and he grabbed
Tigran by the throat. “Do not play games with me, Sadorian. Where is the gold?”

In a movement that caused unbearable
pain Tigran pointed to the far wall. Zico and Luca felt their way around the
room until their hands touched a metal object. It was another padlocked door,
which Luca once again blasted open. Inside was a much smaller room, which was only
the size of an average kitchen (and was probably originally designed as a
toilet facility), but which was now stacked from floor to ceiling with gold
bars.

The ecstatic Zico ran back to Tigran and
lifted him slightly from the floor. “You didn’t lie, my friend. Thank you.”
Then he stood back and shot the Armenian in the head.

“Come on,” he said to Luca and the
enforcer. “We’ll get the pilot to help us and transfer these bars to the plane.
Then we can get out of here. I’ve had enough of England.”

They moved back towards the open hatch
like grubs yearning for the warmth and light. For a moment Luca thought he saw
a face watching their progress. They reached the bank of earth and clambered
out of the darkness. In those few moments of squinting eyes adjusting once more
to a different scene they saw movement. Then, realising the Mercedes was back, they
instinctively ran for cover. Luca was slower than the other two, which for once
was to his advantage. He could see the movement was Chrissie and Megan trying
to drag Brenda’s body towards the car.

Roberto was nowhere to be seen, but it
wasn’t a situation to be afraid of. Luca shouted for his henchman to return,
and together they approached the girls at the point where – from only a few
feet away – Roberto appeared from behind the car. His hands were still tied,
but he held a .357 Magnum handgun and fired six shots in quick succession. This
was a circus act, but he got lucky – and one shot hit the henchman in the
kneecap, shattering his leg and sending him to the ground. Luca was on to the
girls now, and grabbed Megan as a shield. Chrissie also held a gun, and was
prepared to use it. Luca shook Megan like a rag doll in front of his body,
teasing them to shoot.

“Drop your weapons or I kill the girl,”
he shouted, and then added, “Vialli, you look ridiculous anyway.”

Roberto thought about it and then, along
with Chrissie, dropped his gun.

“You’re getting soft,” spat Luca. “Why
should you bother about this girl …? You stupid man … Now I can kill you all.”
And he put the gun to the back of Megan’s head. She felt the barrel against her
skull and closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

A loud crack rang out across the field,
echoing as it drifted away. It was the sound of a single gunshot, and
Chrissie’s heart stopped beating and time stood still. She felt gravity
disappear, and her limbs lose their substance. She saw Megan still standing
with eyes squeezed tight, and she saw Luca Scarpone fall to the ground.

It was all too much. Her mind couldn’t
comprehend what her eyes were seeing. She was going into meltdown when walking
towards them – only twenty feet away – was Elliott Chan, a rifle by his side.
Megan ran to him and they embraced. A crescendo of sirens hit the air. They
were coming from every direction, as if the entire English police force was en route.

Chrissie was slowly coming out of shock,
and saw Roberto sitting on the floor frantically trying to pick up his gun with
hands that wouldn’t work. His eyes were burning as he looked towards the
aeroplane. Zico Scarpone was already there. He rushed up the steps and then,
after throwing his gun to the ground, he used both hands to topple the steps
and close the aircraft door. He saw the pilot – who was waiting, as he had been
told to do.

“Take off, quickly,” shouted the panting
Zico.

The aircraft remained still.

“Get this thing in the air. Now.”

The pilot turned and took his cap off.
The face of Luigi stared back at the wild Mafia don.

“Do you remember the Multari family?” he
asked.

“What?” said Zico.

“Do you remember the Multari family?”
Luigi repeated.

Zico went for his gun, but he’d let it
drop to the ground as he heaved the steps away. No matter: he would simply
break this little man’s neck. He took a step forward, and was halted as a
bullet hit him in the stomach. He staggered backward, and Luigi stood up and advanced
towards him.

Once again he asked, “Do you remember
the Multari family?”

Zico looked puzzled, as if he was trying
his best to remember, but the name meant nothing. Then rage took over and
adrenalin temporarily conquered the pain. He surged forward, but Luigi shot him
twice more in the stomach and the chest. Zico fell backward and crashed to the
floor. Luigi stood over him. He was about to ask the question again, but he
knew it was futile. This crazy, mad dog before him couldn’t even recall his
victims: they were of so little significance. Well, at least Luigi could remind
him.

“Seventeen years ago you murdered an
entire family: the family Multari. My brother was a construction worker who
wouldn’t sell you his business … and for that you shot his wife and children,
and crucified him in his own back garden.”

Luigi saw a glimmer of remembrance in
Zico’s tiny round eyes and a frown cross his furrowed brow.

“You remember, don’t you?” he softly
asked.

“Yes,” said Zico, and spat out in scorn.

“It’s good that you remember,” said
Luigi, and carried on shooting at point-blank range until no more bullets were
left in his gun – and even then he pulled the trigger a dozen more times.

Outside the police had arrived, over a
hundred of them, and Elliott Chan was about to enter the underground bunker.

“You’ll find a dead body in there,” said
Chrissie. “I saw Zico shoot the man in the head.”