Filippo called from the porch that the car was waiting, and Constantino hurried out. He was the last to leave the villa.
Sophia took Rosa upstairs to try on the gown while Teresa unwrapped the gifts and put them on display in the dining room. Graziella settled the two boys into the big double bed, tucking the sheets around them and listening to their prayers.
The evening was warm, and she left the shutters open slightly, noticing as she did so that the guards were gathering at the gates. She checked her watch. It was eight-fifteen; they were not due to change over until after ten o'clock.
Rosa's excited voice called out that she was ready. Teresa and Graziella hurried to the hall and waited for Rosa to come down the stairs.
Sophia ran down ahead and confided, "I think she likes her dress!" Then she called up to Rosa, "We're waiting, Rosa!"
Slowly Rosa walked to the top of the stairs. The waiting women gasped. The bodice was low-cut with a wide, scooped neck, the long, tight sleeves reached a point at her wrists, and her tiny waist was emphasized by tight lacing and a full, hooped skirt. The deeply ruffled hem was cut slightly higher at the front, trailed on the floor at the back. The cream satin fabric shimmered with thousands of tiny seed pearls stitched into a daisy pattern; a daisy headdress supported the veil. It was a fairy-tale gown.
Brimming with happiness, Rosa came down the stairs. The skirt swayed, moving with her; there would be no problems with the train.
She lifted her hands to her flushed cheeks. "Oh, Mama, I feel so good."
Emanuel insisted that his wife and little daughter leave Palermo that night under top security; he had arranged accommodation for them in Rome.
His office was swarming with police officers trying to discover how the bug had been planted despite the tight security net. They began to sift carefully through the records of every police officer who had been on duty in the past few weeks. Emanuel had given orders that they all be suspended from duty and a new team put on the case.
Emanuel took the head of the security force aside. Since his prize witness's identity was now known, it was obvious the don was in great danger. Emanuel insisted that every guard assigned to Luciano be checked thoroughly and, if necessary, replaced that same evening.
Satisfied for the time being that he had done everything humanly possible, he returned to calm his hysterical wife and to assure her that she and her daughter would be safe. He wished he could believe it.
It was after nine that evening when Emanuel received a detailed list of the men allocated to protecting Roberto Luciano. They all were trusted men, but the extra guards brought in by the don could not be vouched for. Emanuel had already emphasized the dangers of discussing the situation with anyone but the don. He would speak to Luciano personally, and together, they would come to some decision about the protection of him and his family.
Three times he called the villa and spoke to Graziella, who at first refused to tell him the name of the restaurant the men had gone to, even though she knew who he was. He kept his voice as calm as he could, while he told her that it was a matter of grave urgency that he contact the don personally.
When he finally obtained the number of the San Lorenzo restaurant, the line was constantly busy. Frustrated, he decided that the safest, to his mind the only, choice left to him was to go speak to Luciano in person. By this time it was ten-fifteen.The don had chosen his favorite restaurant for two reasons. He was, in fact, the owner and knew the staff; he also knew that the private upstairs room was easy to guard. Tf main part of the restaurant was closed for the night, and tf doors would be locked after their arrival.
Don Luciano had ordered that only a skeleton staff be o duty. The bodyguards would eat downstairs, and the drivei were to return for them at twelve-fifteen. They were not 1 wait outside because the cars were well known.
The men did not enter the private dining room until tf bodyguards had searched it carefully. They sat down to dine; nine o'clock.
Emanuel had a long drive ahead of him, but after only te miles one of his back tires blew out. The car careened out ‹ control, and Emanuel fought it onto the hard shoulder. H hands shook, and he had to sit and calm himself. He was coi vinced someone had taken a shot at him.
His heart beating fast, he eased the door open. His mout was dry, his breathing heavy. Then he sighed with relief, was just a tire.
Graziella carried the tray into the living room and said sh would go up to see the children, but Sophia told her it was n‹ necessary. If they were still awake, the women would certainl have heard them.
Graziella sat down and sipped her coffee, but she coul not join in the banter about who was wearing what for th wedding. She went over and over her conversation with Emai uel. Why was it so urgent? Then she pushed it from her mine She was tired; it had been a full day, and tomorrow would b even busier. The caterers were due at seven in the morning She wanted to be there to greet them and oversee all that ha to be done.
The clock on the landing chimed again and Graziella checke her watch, then collected the coffee cups and stacked them o the tray. Sophia told her to sit down and relax, offering to cle: up, but Graziella insisted.It was past eleven. Adina took the tray from her mistre: and told her that the don's driver had left, so the men woul be returning shortly. She offered to put a fresh pot of coffee o the stove, but Graziella shook her head. She doubted if the would want to stay up late. She told Adina to go to bed after she had tidied the kitchen, then gave a little smile and put her finger to her lips. She was just going to peek in on the children.
At fifteen minutes past eleven a truck driver stopped to help Emanuel. They eased the ruined tire off the car and examined the spare by flashlight. It looked very flat.
Quietly Graziella opened the door of the children's bedroom. The boys lay facing each other, Nunzio's arm resting protectively across his brother. They looked so tiny in the big double bed, so peaceful and innocent that she couldn't help smiling.
She was about to close the door again when she heard a sound as if a slate were falling from the roof. She crept to the window and found that the shutter was open wider than she had left it. She glanced across the lawn toward the main gate.
In the darkness she could see the tips of the guards' cigarettes like small, glowing dots. They were waiting for the don's return. As she closed the shutter, the latch banged, and she caught her breath, afraid she had wakened the boys. She turned toward the bed.
Neither child had stirred; they lay in exactly the same position. In the dim light she could see a dark area on the pillow between their heads. Puzzled, she moved closer, until she was standing over the little boys.
The dark stain was seeping into the pillow, between their faces. Her lips formed a scream, but no sound was released. As if in slow motion her hand reached out…
Rosa was at the open living-room door when the terrible scream tore through the house. She was the first to see the stricken, terrified face of her grandmother, eyes wide with horror, at the top of the stairs.
Sophia pushed past Rosa and was halfway up the stairs before the girl could move.
"Mama, Mama, what is it?"
Graziella dragged at Sophia's arm, trying to stop her, pleading, sobbing for her not to go into the room. Teresa ran into the hall and up the stairs. Rosa hung back, shaking. Sophia pushed Graziella aside and entered the room.
"What is it, Mama? What is it?" Teresa was trying to follow Sophia when the awful, low moan erupted into a high-pitched shriek: "My babiessss
Sophia lay across the bed, the limp bodies of her sons beneath her. They each had been shot in the temple, and the killer had turned their little faces toward each other to hide the bullet wounds, had even slipped Nunzio's arm around his brother.