Chapter 6 - The Voice from the Grave
|
The tape hissed with a wall of static for ten agonizing seconds.
Then, a voice broke through.
It was soft, melodic, and laced with a heavy Neapolitan accent. I recognized the cadence instantly. It was the voice of a woman who sang the same way my grandmother did.
“Mio piccolo Christopher,” the voice whispered. My little Christopher.
Christopher dropped into the chair behind his desk as if he had been shot. He buried his face in his hands, completely shattered by the sound of his mother’s voice.
“Translate it,” he choked out, refusing to look up. “Every word.”
I hit pause, rewound it slightly, and pressed play, translating aloud over the recording.
“If you are hearing this, my sweet boy, then Vincenzo is dead, and you have taken his throne,” I translated, my voice shaking. “I am hiding this tape because the cancer is taking me quickly, and there are things your father will never tell you.”
The tape crackled.
“I did not marry your father for protection,” Maria’s voice continued. “I married him because the Mancusos forced me to.”
Christopher’s head snapped up. “What?”
I listened to the Italian, my blood running cold, and translated the horrific truth.
“The Calabrians needed a foothold in Boston,” I said, looking at Christopher with wide eyes. “They told my mother that if she seduced your father and became his wife, she would act as their spy. If she refused, they would slaughter her family in Caserta.”
“She was a spy?” Christopher whispered, the foundation of his entire life crumbling.
“Wait, there’s more,” I said, turning the volume up.
“I loved you, Christopher,” the voice wept on the tape. “I never wanted to betray Vincenzo, but I had to protect my brothers. But the Mancusos are not done. They have another spy inside the Boston syndicate. Someone very high up. A man who has been feeding them information for two decades.”
The tape hissed loudly.
“Do not trust your underboss, Christopher. Do not trust Silvio.”
Christopher stood up so fast his chair crashed to the floor.
“Silvio,” he roared, his voice echoing through the study like thunder.
Silvio was the man who had basically raised Christopher after his father died. He was the most trusted advisor in the Vitali family. And he was a traitor.
Before Christopher could reach the door to summon his guards, the lights in the compound violently flickered and died.
May you like
The security alarms didn't go off. The backup generators didn't kick in.
“They cut the power lines,” Christopher said, pulling a heavy pistol from a hidden drawer in his desk. He grabbed my hand in the pitch black. “Silvio disabled the perimeter. The Mancusos are inside the house.”
