Inferno(24)

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I see what you did there. Maybe I’ll reconsider.’

‘I imagine it will be a cold day in hell before Luca Falcone gives anyone a bouquet of flowers.’

The corner of his lips twitched. ‘It’s not really the Falcone style.’

‘I guess there’s nothing so sweet as honey,’ I said, only dregs of joviality left in my voice now.

That really did shut him up. He turned around and let his attention settle on the wall again. He didn’t gesture for me to leave, and even though I should have, I didn’t. I lingered, without really knowing why I wanted to hang out in a dusky tomb with a bunch of dead murderers and someone who had once made my skin burn with hatred. Someone I used to fear. I guess I didn’t feel any of that any more. When I pressed my hands against his body in the warehouse and felt his blood, warm and sticky, on my fingers, he became something else to me … human, breakable.

‘So … nice place you got here …’ I came to stand beside him. We faced the wall and I read the plaque directly in front of us.

GIANLUCA FALCONE

DECEMBER 7TH, 1923 – MARCH 20TH, 1995

CXIII

‘Your namesake,’ I said.

‘My grandfather.’

‘He died on the day you were born?’

He turned to look at me. ‘Creepy much?’

‘It’s written on your knife!’

‘OK, stalker. Relax.’

‘You are so incredibly annoying.’

He shrugged. ‘So I’m told.’

‘You should come off that pedestal every now and then.’

He grimaced. ‘But I like my pedestal. I can see everything from up here.’

‘I bet the view’s even nicer from your ivory tower.’

‘It is,’ he said, solemnly. ‘I’d invite you up some time but it’s only for really intelligent people who have a great sense of humour.’

‘Then you must be squatting.’ I turned back to the plaque, renewed curiosity flickering in my mind. ‘Did your grandfather get to see you?’ I asked. ‘Before he died that day?’

‘Yes. Valentino and I were born early in the morning.’ Luca’s voice changed, losing the tinge of arrogance that made it haughty. His family was not a laughing matter. ‘My grandfather held me in his arms for an hour. He wasn’t so interested in Valentino. I don’t know if it was because of his defect or because I was the less screechy of the two of us, but my grandfather convinced my parents that he and I were kindred spirits. He said he felt it. I’m not so sure. How kindred can you feel with a scrunched-up baby who can’t even see properly? Anyway, after he gave me back to my mother, he walked right out of the hospital and dropped dead on the street.’

‘Oh,’ I gasped, feeling my face crumple. That took a dark turn. ‘Was it a heart attack?’

Luca’s smile was rueful. ‘Sophie Gracewell. Naïve as ever. They hit him twice; once in the head, once in the heart. Twin bullets, to represent Valentino and me.’

I clutched at my stomach. Despite my best efforts to remain composed, I was starting to feel a little sick. I focused on the letters in front of me, following their elaborate curves. ‘Who shot him?’

I could feel Luca watching me. ‘The Marinos.’ In his mouth, the name Marino sounded like a curse word. Nic had spoken about them in that same tone when he had asked me about Jack in the garden. ‘We call them the Black Hand. You could say we have a … colourful history with them.’ He stopped, his head dipping like he was staring at something on the ground, and quietly, emotionlessly, he added, ‘It had been a long time coming.’

‘What exactly does colourful mean?’

Luca shrugged, still staring at that same spot. ‘That we’re always killing each other.’

‘Ah,’ I said, feeling horrified and doing my best to hide it. ‘Of course …’

‘We were in a truce at the time … or at least we were supposed to be, but they were still harbouring resentment for something that happened several years before that. And with the twin thing, I suppose the symbolism was too great to pass up.’

‘The twin thing?’

‘Yes,’ said Luca, looking up again, but not at me. His gaze roved around the room, tripping over his ancestors’ tombs. ‘In the eighties, during the second blood war between our families, my grandfather ordered the killing of Don Vincenzo Marino and his family. It was a drastic move, but he thought that would cripple the Marino dynasty and end the bloodshed once and for all. The Falcones got Vincenzo and his wife, but their sons weren’t there. They were twins. No one knows where they went – seems like they just disappeared into thin air. After that, Vincenzo’s younger brother, Cesare, took over, but he was an incompetent boss. The family didn’t respect him the way they respected Vincenzo. Just like my grandfather had planned, the Marinos were weakened without strong leadership, and Cesare agreed to a truce.’ He heaved a sigh. It was heavy and filled with regret, as though he had been there to witness it all.