Sydney Moya

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(c) 2016

Synopsis

Interpol working with a multinational taskforce of Anti-Organised crime agencies is closing in on Mario Di Michele and his ‘Ndrangheta crime family, His father, uncles and his three brothers and two sisters have been arrested or killed. He is a wanted man in North America, Europe and Latin America. There seems to be only one way to evade capture or certain death and it is by being true to his nature.

Chapter Seven

Enver Berisha thought London was overrated, as he looked at the pallid skyline and the buildings puncturing it, new glass and concrete towers, sprinkled in amongst the old. To be fair it was a cold and miserable afternoon, the kind that regularly plagued the British capital that time of the year.

He already hated the place. A large part of him cursed that woman for bringing him here. He almost hoped she’d gone to America instead so he could see New York, a boyhood dream.

He glanced at the passport photo of the woman who had bested him so many months ago. Ava Mitchell had walked in to his café, demanded his services and seen off an attempt to 'recruit' her into the sex-trade Enver ran.

She had told him going after her would lead to a war between ‘Ndrangheta and his people, a threat not to be taken lightly. Enver had backed down, but for months his ego had been eating away at him, steadily yet inexorably like a ticking time bomb. He felt that his people didn’t look at him the same anymore. Enver began to take any slight, even the smallest as an attack on him.

A few weeks back he had thrown a mug of coffee at a waiter because he didn’t put in enough creamer. He had a temper of course but he prided himself on being cool and collected, outbursts like that showed weakness. That was the last straw. Enver decided he had to get his hands on Ava Mitchell, if that was even her real name and teach her how to respect a man.

Once he was done with her, he would give her to his captains then send her to the local whorehouse.

The again maybe he would just keep her to himself, she was strikingly good looking and smart. The ones with fire were always the most fun to tame.

His men had been tracking every Ava Mitchell in the London area for the last couple of months. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack but Enver wanted her found. He had a good feeling about this. He had just come over to see how his men were doing.

Knowing that someone had been in her home unnerved Ava, she hadn’t felt so terrified since fleeing Croatia. She immediately wondered if it was related to the Albanian forgers. At the back of her mind she knew she had hurt Enver’s pride. Men like that didn’t take kindly to that. She should know as she saw enough of it in her family.

Okay, so Enver was looking for her. He may have figured out her family was finished and decided to get her back. Of course Ava had no intention of being a sex slave and as long as she lived the Di Michele’s were not done yet.

However she was constrained by the fact that the Albanians were in London and she was harbouring a fugitive and his family. They couldn’t fight back even if they wanted to unless she wanted to compromise her identity.

She considered going back to the continent but dismissed the idea immediately. The Albanian’s were even stronger there and she had no organisation to speak of anymore. No she had to do something.

Her immediate concern was that the house was compromised, it may have just been a burglary but nothing had been taken which pointed to a search and not theft.

‘Think Ava, che diavolo!”

She wracked her head for ideas and one popped into her head. It was audacious but maybe just maybe it would work.

“We’re leaving,” she said to Luciano.

“Okay boss,” Luciano replied.

She grabbed her backpack and some clothes and closed the door behind her. No one was watching the house which was a good sign. It meant Enver was stretched thin.

After establishing her bona fides thanks to a few calls between some mandarins in Rome and Moscow during which it was made clear that a few billion dollars in investments were at stake, Anna Shevchenko was allowed to collect the remains of her children.

A few people had their feathers ruffled and Mauro Rossi was instructed to keep away from the Shevchenko’s, an instruction he promptly disregarded.

He drove at breakneck speed, siren blaring to the airport so he could get on a fight to Calabria. He knew an air force plane was heading to Reggio Calabria in less than half an hour. He had called in a favour to get himself on it, he wasn’t going to miss a chance to observe the Shevchenko’s if he could help it.

He made the airport just in time and strapped in for the flight and hoped the Shevchenko’s private jet wasn’t as slow as the plane he was on. He could have called in a favour and had their plane grounded for half an hour but he didn’t dare pull any tricks with air traffic control to delay the them after what Renzo had told him about what had happened with Giuseppe.

Even though he worked for Interpol and wasn’t currently under direct Italian command, he needed his country’s backing to advance in the organisation or to get anything done in Rome. He couldn’t afford to show his hand at the moment. He could be sacrificed now that Di Michele was dead. After all he was nothing in the greater scheme of things while Shevchenko had pull.

Still he had to know what that woman knew. It may help to catch her missing son or allow him to change his plans. So he wanted to observe what would happen in Calabria. As the plane climbed into the air he wondered if he should contact his source.

Mauro wrestled with the idea for a while then decided against it, deciding to see how Anna would react first. It wouldn’t do to spook an asset without sufficient information.

At least one of Mauro’s wishes did come true. The Shevchenko’s Gulf Stream lifted off about thirty minutes after he did, not having the advantage of a Roman native and flashing lights at their behest. The SUV had stopped and started in the traffic for what seemed like ages.

They weren’t in a hurry though, Anna was too lost in her grief to care and her sadness was echoed in the faces of her family who sat beside her in the roomy vehicle both of them holding one of her hands each.

Mauro stifled a laugh at the sign proclaiming that Calabria was home to the cleanest air in Europe. It was ironic that this place and the region neighbouring it had produced some of the worst organised crime groups in the world.

It was a beautiful place, the land of saints another sign proclaimed. He guffawed at that one as his driver sped him to the city morgue.

‘Home of the ‘Ndrangheta, Gangsters paradise should be added to that sign too’

No doubt it was a beautiful place he thought but even the sweetest smelling roses had the sharpest thorns.

On arriving at the morgue he quickly talked it's director into letting him watch the feeds from the fridges. He knew the Russian party would be arriving soon and this was the best way of observing them.

He couldn’t physically be in the room to his chagrin but needs must.

Enver had his men search London for any Ava Mitchell. He hadn’t considered how big a city London was and he had no guarantee that the girl would have even continued using that name. He didn’t expect much but he had to do something. If he didn’t it would continue gnaw away at him.

Luck wasn't on his side though. So far the searches hadn’t turned up anything. There was a house in Uxbridge they had just searched but the girl was on holiday. She was the only one who fit the description so far, the other six girls didn’t fit the description.

He had no choice but to wait and keep searching in case she wasn’t the one.

Ava had taken Luciano and his family to Southend where she owned a second home. She had bought it in case things went pear shaped. Basically it was a safe house of sorts.

Natalia put the kids to bed and immediately began cleaning out the place and making a meal.

“What now boss, who is after you?” Luciano asked.

“The Albanian’s,” Ava answered before telling him the story of her escape from Croatia.

“Shit. Do you want me to take them out?”

“No you’re on the run remember, you could get me burned. We’re going to get Enver arrested. I am pretty sure he is in London running the search,”

“How are we going to do that?”

“We’re going to send the authorities evidence that he is laundering money selling girls across Europe,”

“You have evidence?” Luciano asked, surprised.

He wanted her to back up her words to Enver by reaching out to their clansmen, the Tegallo and Latella clans who had survived the purge by the Anti-Mafia. Of course that would be difficult since she had decided to be a woman now. There was no way to know how they would take that. Heck he wasn’t pleased about it so it would be worse with them.

Still he was prepared to follow whatever course she chose. He spoke Calabrian Greek and as far as he was concerned she lived up to andragathizesthai, as she had a brave and valiant attitude.

“No but I can make some,” said Ava with a grin.

Luciano grinned back looking at his boss with a new found respect. She was nothing if ballsy, this side of her was something he hadn’t known she had. Still she was a Di Michele and he believed blood always tells.

Anna collapsed to the floor when she saw the first of her children.

Luigi, had a hole in his head, his olive skin a pale white. Anna was inconsolable.

“Why! Luigi!” she screamed hitting the floor repeatedly.

Her husband got on the floor and helped her up.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured as his wife sobbed into his shoulder.

“That’s my baby,” Anna cried.

Antonin was at a loss for words. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain she was going through, seeing her child like that and there were four more bodies to identify. He wasn’t a squeamish man but he wouldn’t put someone through this.

‘Someone will pay for this,’ he thought as he consoled his wife.

“We need to see the rest of them,” he said as gently as possible.

Anna’s sobs intensified when she saw Stefano. She would recognise his face anywhere, he hadn’t changed too much either. She would never see his naughty grin or his eyes sparkle. Olivia had grown into a beauty, even death couldn’t hide that and her grief at the terrible loss choked her. Blinded by tears she turned to look at the next body.

Mauro watching and listening was also moved. He may have been a jaded cop but he still hated to see people suffering and it was plain to see this woman was suffering.

He asked himself why people had to make life so difficult for one another. All Di Michele had to do was surrender instead he started shooting at the police and they had to fire back.

“Fuck!’’ he muttered, no one should go through this.

“Who is this?” Anna asked, as she stared at a female cadaver.

“Marta Di Michele,” the doctor read.

Anna squinted, she pulled off the sheet and looked at her lower leg looking for her daughter’s birth mark.

“This isn’t my daughter!” she screeched like a bat out of hell.

“I assure you that is Marta Di Michele,” said the doctor.

Anna responded angrily in rapid fire Croatian, questioning his parentage in colourful terms.

“What have you done with her?” she demanded.

“Anna,” Antonin asked, unsure what was happening.

Anna said nothing, she turned to the attendant and pulled off the next sheet. The father of her children lay there, his body still unclaimed.

Anna froze before she spat on the floor.

“Where is Mario?”

“These are all the bodies we received,”

Something akin to hope began to grow in Anna.

“Antonin, Mario and Marta aren’t here, find out what these dogs have done to them,” she said, her voice full of steel.

“I want my children and their father for burial. Make it happen.” Anna told the doctor.

The authority in her tone was such that the doctor who had very few people telling him what to do scurried out to make her wishes a reality.

Mauro watched fascinated at the change in the woman even as his operation was about to be exposed. He suddenly doubted he would ever catch Mario, if he was his mother’s son. With his brains and that spirit.

Heck Marta scared him some of the time.

Speaking of which he had no choice but to appraise her of the latest developments.

To be continued.