Road to Rome

Marco didn't repeat the call, but Antonio didn't need to repeat it either.After hanging up the phone, the two sat side by side on the sofa for several minutes, sharing silence.Antonio felt he should say something, but couldn't find the right words.He glanced at Marco, stretched out his hand, and immediately took it back, stood up, and went to the bedroom to change clothes.

They looked like a pared-down funeral queue when they left the bar.Antonio thinks a big part of it is the clothes, as if one man's black robe wasn't enough, the other has changed into a black long-sleeved shirt and dark brown trousers.The car was black, too, a Ford with grille radiators and circular cat-eye headlights, the kind you see in movies where you get shot and blood splatters the seats.The driver was Detective Hughes, in civilian clothes, but even a layman like Antonio could smell the law enforcement smell in him.

"The whole thing will be over soon," said Marco, in a low voice, perhaps not for Antonio's ears, but for himself, "just get Bruch out, talk to him, turn my boat The team hangs in front of his nose long enough until the taxpayer-funded professional thugs step in."

"We're not professional thugs," Hughes interjected, but they were ignored.

Antonio touched the back of Marco's hand, "It will be fine."

"Of course, I know, and now you know, too, which is good."

"It'll be all right," Antonio said again, in a more determined tone, like the one his older brother would have used, not Chilian, but the second brother, Niccolò.Of the four Pelligrini children, Niccolò was the most stable, like a ballast stone.Antonio didn't know if he was still guarding the assembly line to assemble cars. The two probably haven't seen each other for more than ten years, not because of emotional estrangement, but purely because of physical distance.At this moment, in this gloomy car, he suddenly missed this honest brother, and even imagined that Niccolo would miraculously appear, grab his collar, carry him all the way home, and throw him at his mother's feet.Niccolo is not like Killian, in every sense of the word, and it is hard to imagine that the two are only a year apart and come from the same family.If the eldest brother knew Antonio's current situation, he would probably appreciate it greatly, because "this is a political chip that can be cashed at any time, and we must stuff our pockets with this chip."

Mom was right, if poverty didn't force Killian to choose the church, the other natural path would be Congress.

The agent slams on the brakes suddenly, and Antonio nearly bumps into the seat in front of him.A bright yellow car rolled over from the right without warning, and just as Hughes slammed the steering wheel to avoid it to the left, a pickup truck squeezed up from the side lane, completely cutting off the left-turn route.The two unfamiliar cars sandwiched them, driving the black Ford onto the narrow one-way street between the buildings.

"Don't go," Marco said loudly, "Stop!"

"You can't be right in the middle of the road—"

"Stop right here! Now!"

emergency brake.But this time Antonio was well prepared and firmly grasped the door handle.A green Dodge following hurriedly dodges, but still hits the Ford's left taillight.The driver of the Dodge got out of the car annoyed and was about to yell at them, but when he saw two unfriendly men getting out of the pickup truck in front, he changed his mind immediately, hid in the cab, started the engine, and drove away. Dodge turned away with the dented hood.

"This way." Marco grabbed Antonio's hand, and the two ran up the sidewalk, "This is kidnapping, we have to—"

There was a burst of exclamation, and people ran away in all directions.Another car followed, rushed up the sidewalk, knocked over a newsstand, and stopped in front of Marco.Antonio turned around subconsciously, and the fourth car also appeared, blocking the way.There was a coffee shop less than five feet away, but the waiter, sensing the commotion outside, locked the door in Antonio's face.Marco pulled the priest behind him and knocked down the first man who dared approach, and the hapless writhing and groaning on the ground, clutching his knees, didn't stop the thugs from swarming up and tearing them apart.Together they twisted Marco's arm behind his back, and the other kicked him in the stomach.Antonio turned to see where they were dragging Marco, but then someone hit him on the back of the head with the butt of a gun, put a black cloth bag over his head, and shoved him into the back of the car.

It took Antonio a long time to catch his breath, to sound less like a foaming draft horse.There was a dull pain in the back of the head where he had been hit, and he tried to feel the skull to make sure it was all right, but his hands were tied.No one was talking in the car, not even breathing could be heard, maybe there were two other people besides him, maybe there was an ostrich and a Komodo dragon, maybe they were going to have a picnic, maybe 5 minutes later Antonio would be thrown into the harbor, along with a bag of broken bricks to ensure he never floated again.

The car seemed to stop in a tunnel-like place, because the engine noise aroused a faint echo, and in the distance there were "grunts" and "crawls" produced by water flowing back and forth in a confined space.Someone ordered Antonio to come out, but he subconsciously hid back, fearing that he would really be pushed into the sea and drowned.The man then dragged him out and lifted the bag, but did not undo the ropes that bound his wrists.

Headlight beams flickered on the concrete wall, and another car drove into what looked like an abandoned tunnel.Marco was also dragged down, removed the blindfold, and pushed to Antonio's side.Apart from a fresh, swollen bruise around the corner of his left eye, Marco looked fine.The two looked at each other, squeezed tightly together, and looked at the cement cave.

The only light came from light bulbs, mounted in rows eight feet high on the wall and spaced about four feet apart, each protected by a small iron cage with a lock.It can be deduced that this place is not a private underground secret room, but a place accessible to the general public. Maybe homeless people often sneak in to spend the night, otherwise there is no need for anti-theft measures.There was a regular rumble coming from somewhere, and Antonio at first thought it was a heavy truck driving across the road above, and soon realized that the vibration was coming from the other side of the concrete wall, probably the subway.

Bruch emerged from the other side of the tunnel, alone and on foot, as unhurriedly as if it were sunny Park Avenue.Antonio recalled the conversation between himself and Marco when they met at Pier 88, where the wind was howling, and he couldn't help wondering whether walking out was a strange way of intimidation popular among gangs, perhaps to show some kind of puzzling power or confidence.Beside him, Marco took a step forward, standing up straight, in a boxing stance Antonio was sure would have had his hands not tied.

In Antonio's previous imagination, the German gang leader should be like a giant, fat and strong, wielding a homemade ax and bringing a smell of sewers.But in reality Bruch was plain, with greasy blond hair hanging like a straw helmet, and the only thing that attracted a second look was a badly healed, ridge-like scar running through his right eyebrow and forehead stand up.He wasn't tall either, five foot six or shorter, and he wore baggy khaki trousers with a striped shirt tucked into them.Walking on the pier, one would not be able to tell Bruch from sailors and porters.

"I knew you would be beaten." These were Bruch's first words. He took out a pocket knife from his trouser pocket and approached Marco. Antonio flinched, but the murder did not happen.Bruch snapped the rope that bound Marco's wrist, then came to Antonio, spent a moment looking him in the face, snorted, and cut the rope too.

"The original idea was to 'escort' your cars here with minimal commotion and no one getting hurt," Bruch continued, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets and arching his shoulders slightly forward, "but Kos Taco doesn't sit still, never. Father," he turned suddenly to Antonio, grinning, "hello, I know who you are, and it's only fair that you should know a little about me. Wilbur Brown Ruh, I'm doing some little...moving business on the docks."

Behind them, the titters of co-conspirators came from the minions who stood and sat around several cars.

"The church knows who you are," Antonio replied.

"'The church knows who I am'! Did you hear that? I was too scared to speak." Bruch clicked his tongue, and turned his attention back to Marco, "This is your master, puppy Dogs? I guess it was your dad's idea. Your family is the only one still worshiping these goddamn comedians."

"You don't deserve to talk about my dad. And you're a coward who doesn't promise to show up at the appointment—"

"Thanks, I'd rather be a living coward. What makes you think I'm actually going to that abandoned restaurant? I'm sure the cops have taken over the place like cockroaches, just waiting to gang rape me."

Marco spat on the ground: "For me to cooperate with the police, it would be better to cut off my testicles."

"I don't mind doing it for you." Bruch's canine teeth came together with a smile, and Antonio wondered whether this was natural or a side effect of the gang's endless infighting. "Stop pretending, Costa, the Hoboken dock thing, I Both you and I know that you told me the secret."

"It's not me." Marco replied through gritted teeth, not only appearing resolute, but even with a little indignation of being wronged.If this was a drinking game last night, Antonio wouldn't necessarily have won it.The priest cleared his throat, feeling the need to add a pillar to the lie: "That wasn't him."

Bruch raised an eyebrow.

"One... There was a stevedore who went to confess. He accidentally found explosives and dared not call the police, but he was worried that his cowardice would kill many people. He was very scared and refused to say his name, so the priest on duty that day I didn’t ask, the priest hesitated for a long time before reporting to Father Clement, because the confession should be kept secret, but—”

"Do you have proof?" Bruch interrupted Antonio.

"Mr. Bruch, we are not a bank, and we will not issue a receipt to everyone who comes to confess." Realizing that his tone was too sharp, the priest slowed down, "Father Clement immediately notified Bishop Brennan , I don't know much after that, the Bishop is well connected, I think he must have passed the news on to some suitable 'friend'. If you want revenge on the whistleblower, go to Bishop Brennan."

"If that's true, you don't need Costa at all."

"Of course we need Mr. Costa." The priest sighed. "The Church doesn't like to get its hands dirty. You see, in a sense, we planted Mr. Costa."

"Interesting," commented Bruch, suddenly putting his arm around Antonio's shoulders and taking him aside, Antonio wanted to turn to look at Marco, but held back, "Tell me, Father, if I take you home , take out your intestines, will Father Clement ask the FBI to release my sixteen brothers?"

"No, Father Clement will find a new priest to replace me in less than two hours. They will pray for my soul, but not my bowels."

"Assuming—just assuming—that I want to negotiate with the FBI through the church, what leverage do you suggest I take?"

"Tell them honestly how you communicated with the Germans, and promise to stay away from the docks in the future."

"You know a lot, Father, I kind of want to take out your guts right now." Bruch pinched his shoulder, and Antonio tried to break free subconsciously, but the other man took out a jackknife, and the tip of the knife rested on the On his neck, Antonio froze, holding his breath, not daring to move.Bruch gestured lazily, and the "navigators" guarding the exit of the tunnel raised their revolvers, five, and aimed at Marco from all angles.

"Now, let's talk business," Bruch announced.

"You don't look very sincere," Marco said.

"It is my greatest sincerity that you two can breathe now."

"If you want my fleet, let your mad dogs put away their guns, and if I die, you will get nothing."

"Tell me where the charter is, or I'll cut the priest's trachea right now. How does that sound?"

"Are you serious, Bruch? Are you threatening me with this fool? This man is just a marionette who doesn't understand anything and has nothing to do with me. Do it if you like, goug his eyes, twist Broken neck, whatever. Seriously, since you plan to play this trick, you should go to Canada to catch my sister first."

The blade pierced the skin shallowly, and Antonio tried his best to hide back, not daring to make a sound.

"Your fleet is your life, it's that simple." After a long silence, Bruch said.

Marco raised a hand and made a soothing gesture: "I understand, but I told you just now, if I die, you can't get the ship, it's not just a contract issue, the captain and sailors are only loyal to Kos The Tower family, they must hear me or my father explain the transfer of property rights, so as not to kill the stranger holding the boat in the middle of the night."

"How do I know you're not exaggerating?"

"I don't expect you to believe it, it doesn't matter, you can try it yourself. When you and your people are tied up and thrown into the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of the night, I hope you will remember what I said today."

"I can replace all the sailors."

"Replace the captains and sailors of sixteen ships in one go? Good luck." Marco took a step forward, and the man with the gun behind him yelled. He stopped and rolled his eyes, "Listen, let Let's go to the docks now, no tricks, solve all problems together. I'm not like you, Bruch, I'm too lazy to fight for the king of the port, you can take my fleet, but you must promise to stop harassing me and me family."

Antonio could feel Bruch's hand loosening the knife a little. This was obviously a tempting proposition, but he didn't hear Bruch's answer in the end.The harsh sound of car tires rubbing against cement suddenly came from a distance.The guns aimed at Marco turned in another direction, and a police car rushed in first, followed by the second and the third.Bruch cursed under his breath, gripped Antonio's hair, and pulled his head back hard, preparing to stab him through the neck.But Marco took advantage of the distraction just a few seconds ago and rushed over, knocking Bruch to the ground.The blade slid across Antonio's shoulder, drawing a long gash, but in shock and fear, Antonio felt nothing.He huddled against the wall, trembling all over, pressing hard on the bleeding cut.Marco and Bruch scuffled, the knife landed within five feet of Antonio's feet, and he stared blankly at the weapon for a moment before crawling over and grabbing the bloody jackknife.

Just then, gunshots rang out.