Page 99 of Marcello

More importantly, our guys found the multiple mistresses Luciano kept in love nests around Naples.

Lucrezia decided that was our way in.

One of the guys in our clan began practicing for hours a day as a sniper. Cesare dubbed him Tiratore – Shooter.

We began training like a SWAT team. Lucrezia found some rundown, abandoned buildings out in the middle of nowhere so we could practice knocking down doors, breaking into places, and clearing rooms. She even hired a corrupt ex-SWAT cop to teach us.

We kept inching closer and closer…

And somewhere along the way, I thought, Holy shit –

We might actually pull this off.

Throughout it all, Cesare never lost sight of his obsession:

Killing Dario Rosolini.

He talked about it every single day.

He was fucking consumed by it.

I wondered how his revenge intersected with Lucrezia’s plot to kill Amato –

And then a single piece of information made it all click into place.

Cesare casually mentioned that he couldn’t wait to torture Amato because “that Cosa Nostra fucker knows where Rosolini is.”

I figured that was certainly worth passing on to Fausto.

I called him, but his reaction was bored, as always.

“Has Cesare actually TORTURED the information out of Amato yet?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why are you CALLING me?”

“Because I think we might actually have a decent shot at killing Amato.”

“Uh-huh,” Fausto said contemptuously. “I’ll tell you what: call me when you’re pulling up to Dario’s front door. But don’t bother calling me if you DO manage to kill Amato – the other families of the Cosa Nostra will let me know if he’s dead.”

Fuck you, too, old man.

Then came the day that Dario Rosolini got out of San Vittore prison.

Cesare nearly went insane with rage. Lucrezia was the only one who could talk him down.

“Soon,” she promised him. “Just a few more months.”

I called Fausto that night.

“Look, Marcello,” he snapped, “I have my hands full at the moment. Don’t bother contacting me again unless you have news that DIRECTLY impacts ME. Not Dario, not my other nephews – FORGET ABOUT THEM. I only want information that DIRECTLY impacts ME. Understood?”

Understood, you fucking son of a bitch.

33

We were getting close.