See Naples and Die (24 page)

Elliott nodded and slid down the dirt
slope, followed by a horde of officers. With dozens of torches the bunker was
brighter than daylight. Elliott almost ran to the end of the room and opened
the door, and there was the gold … sparkling bars, neatly stacked. It was an
exhilarating sight.

He returned to the larger room and
looked around the floor. The place was wall-to-wall policemen, but he was sure
there was no body lying there. Chrissie must have been mistaken.

Roberto’s hands had been freed, and he’d
been kissed several times by Chrissie. Brenda had been lifted on to a
stretcher. She’d been hit in the shoulder and had passed out as she fell.
Armando was also still alive, but in a critical condition. Beppe was dead – along
with the two Armenians, Caesar Magri, Carlito Chiellini, three enforcers, and
Luca Scarpone. Claudio would also later be found dead, lying on top of another
Armenian assassin.

It turned out that
Megan had been keeping in touch with Elliott Chan almost from their first
meeting. She’d trusted him when everyone else had decided he was up to no good,
and they had developed more than a professional bond. That he had proved to be
her saviour was a fortunate touch that cemented her already nurtured feelings,
and she wanted to be with him more than anything.

She had given him
the location of the meeting, and he was already hidden in the trees when they
arrived. The police cars had to be some miles away in case they were spotted by
the approaching plane, and only when the Scarpones landed did he make the call
to bring them in. His heart was in his mouth as he witnessed the gun battle,
and his relief was transcendental as he saw Megan dive into the Mercedes – his
pain only to return as he saw the girls go back to help Brenda. That’s when he
made his way across the field to be on hand when Luca Scarpone was about to
take everything away from him. He knew he would only have one shot and he dropped
down, rested his arm on his knee, and steadied the rifle. His aim was true, and
good triumphed over evil.

The ironic tragedy
of the day was known only to Roberto. Against the Armenians and the Scarpones
they had no chance, but the fact that Caesar had believed Tigran Sadorian had
been responsible for the attempt on Angelo’s life had turned them against each
other – so inadvertently Tigran had, ironically, been their saviour.

The tragic part was
that he really didn’t have anything to do with it. When visiting Angelo in the
hospital he had told Roberto that he’d seen the face of his attacker, but it
was not the Armenian. It was Roman Vasalknis, who was the lover of one of their
hits. He hated Angelo, and had stalked him until the moment was right. Then he
probably ran in terror, and is still running now.

It had been a
bloody day, but for those who survived there was at least some blessed relief
and even reward.

Elliott was already
looking ahead to a future with Megan, and had the added bonus of being the hero
who found the gold and would forever be remembered for it.

Luigi had taken his
revenge and could go back to living a normal life. He had freed the souls of
his departed family from their chains of injustice, and nirvana beckoned.

Roberto had details
of every aspect of the Scarpone empire, and that was unbelievable knowledge.
The possibilities were immense.

The girls had been
set free from their nightmare and, although nothing would ever be the same
again after being part of so much death, they’d come through it. But they’d
been shown another world, and being normal again was going to be hard. Chrissie
knew that Roberto was going to ask her to go back to Naples … It was something
she was seriously considering.

To be saved from
the insane schemes of Zico Scarpone and his assassins would ultimately save
hundreds – if not thousands – of innocent lives. Some good men had been lost,
but freedom always comes with a price. It could even be said that the greatest
winner in all of this was humanity.

Four days later Chrissie, Megan, and
Roberto were sitting at Brenda’s bedside. She was well on the way to a full
recovery, and was to be discharged later that day. She wouldn’t play tennis for
a while, but other than a painful shoulder and a graze to her forehead she was
as good as new.

Armando was in the next room, and out of
the worst of it. He had been hit three times: one bullet lodged in his rib
cage, which had caused internal complications, and he had two more injuries that
had broken bones and torn flesh. But he would live, and this would become just
another line on his CV.

They mourned the deaths of Beppe and
Claudio but, as Roberto kept reminding them,

“This was the path they chose. The Mafia
lose men every year. It was the nature of things, and everyone accepted the
risks. They will be honoured, and their families looked after. In war there
have to be casualties, and this war had been a long time coming … but now it is
over, and a period of peace will follow.”

As Chrissie suspected, Roberto asked her
to accompany him back to Naples. She reminded him of his ongoing rhetoric about
wanting to be a legitimate businessman … How he would like nothing better than
to be free of the shackles of crime … And although she knew deep inside what
his answer would be it still disappointed her.

Roberto had pleaded with her to
understand. He had been entrusted with this incredible opportunity to take the
Scarpone businesses and manage them in a better and more just way. Angelo
Tardelli was to become his chief executive in England, and would indeed run
things in a right and proper manner. Other interests, however, were still very
much outside of the law. Someone had to keep them going. The structure of
things had to be maintained: the status quo could not be tampered with.

If he didn't do it then another Zico
Scarpone would emerge. And that could not be allowed to happen. He felt trapped
once more – this time because of the knowledge he had been given. If only he
wasn’t the only one with the Scarpone data stick … Then he would become
legitimate, for sure …

Chrissie listened to all this with a sad
heart. She kissed his forehead, and along with Brenda they made plans to return
to Liverpool. Megan was remaining in London with Elliott Chan, so only the two
of them would walk down the steps from Lime Street station – just as her vision
had shown.

Roberto tried once more to convince her
to go with him, but it kept coming back to his role in overseeing the huge
Scarpone crime syndicates. He was earnest enough in his desire for a lawful
side and the arrangements with Angelo would be 100 per cent above board, but he
couldn’t step away from the unsavoury element. As he kept repeating, it was a
curse that he was the only one who had this information …

It was a glorious day in Wimbledon. The
ladies were in summer dresses and the men in shorts. The high street was still
polluted, but the sun lifted everyone’s spirits and cheery smiles abounded. Mrs
Grimshaw came out of the post office and felt the warm rays against her face.
How best to spend the day? She would go to the park, she decided. That would be
nice … feed the swans and relax. It had been a funny few weeks with the girls
and their mysterious activities. Then just as she was beginning to get used to
having them around they disappeared. They hadn’t had much luggage, but what
they did have was just left in the rooms. She wondered what on earth they had
been mixed up in. It had to be something. Well, at least she’d kept to her side
of things. She lifted the small postage receipt and read it one more time:

To the Chief Prosecutor of Naples –
first class.

She knew it contained a USB data stick
but had no idea of its significance, only that she was keeping her promise. The
girls had said, “If you don’t hear from us within seven days, post the envelope,”
and that’s what she’d done. She wondered if it would change things for anyone
and hoped with all her heart that if it did, it would be for the good – especially
for Chrissie McGuire, Megan Penhaligon, and Brenda Smith.

Twelve weeks after the shoot-out in the
Lincolnshire field a truck carrying refrigerators waited at the cross-Channel
checkpoint just outside Folkestone. The driver was biding his time and waiting
for his turn. He was experienced enough to know that you can’t rush these
things. It was a little uncomfortable in the heat but he had air-con, and the
CD player was halfway through
The Best of Talking Heads
, so he was happy
enough. He was happier than his cargo – not the refrigerators part of the
cargo, but a man he’d brought into the country almost a year ago. Now he was
returning, in the same cramped space in the false floor of the truck.

“It must be hell in there,” thought the
driver, but the man looked like he could survive anything. He remembered him
well. He was a rough character with an air of menace, and the driver shuddered.
He didn’t know why he was going home, but he was sure that England would be
better off without him. A man like that would always be a problem, so let him
be someone else’s problem … But as this thought flashed across his mind he knew
it was wishful thinking, and that England had not seen the last of this man
they called Sadorian.