The Blame Game
Icaro raced down the stairs and burst into his office where his father had taken up shop.
“She called me.”
“What?” Vodingo was on his feet rushing to Icaro and grabbing him by the shoulders to shake him erratically.
Icaro smacked him off. “You fucked up, you stupid asshole.”
“How?” Dagoberto questioned angrily.
“I put him in charge of Zorah’s security, and he fucked up. You should have declined. You’re so wrapped up in fucking your wife you missed everything! You assured me you could handle it!” He yelled at Vodingo. “You are head of the security for this family for a reason so tell me Vodingo, why is it, there are six men, down the street, one of them injured by the man who took Zorah, in a villa laying low?”
Vodingo staggered back. “What?”
“Did you know we had three different factions watching her? I leave this in your hands because you are capable and you are the best of the best so tell me why it is you didn’t know the Gallos were hiring hitmen, the bitch from the yacht has a back up team of six a few doors down and Zorah’s father belongs to some kind of mercenary team and realized the six men were going to make a move, kill me, steal her and so they intervened and took her because I couldn’t keep her safe!” he was screaming now, his voice hoarse with rage.
His father was pulling him backwards from Vodingo while Calogero was eyeballing the two men curiously.
“If you couldn’t do the job, you should have said you couldn’t and passed it off to your father to manage,” Icaro was huffing with rage. “How on earth did you not know there were three groups watching her?”
Vodingo moved to sit on the edge of a sofa, his hands shaking as he stared at Icaro. “It’s impossible. I knew Gallo was shooting her mouth off. I knew the bitch from the yacht was a problem. I’ve been focusing on the Walrus.”
“You failed at your job, and she is not here because of you!”
“Stop blaming me!” Vodingo yelled at him.
“Who am I supposed to blame, Vod?” Icaro retorted. “It is your job. Yours!” He looked to his father, “have I let a single one of my assigned tasks fall to the wayside since my marriage?”
“No.”
“The jobs I knew I could not accomplish, did I or did I not, delegate them to people who would be able to do what I could not?”
“You did.”
He turned back to Vodingo, “so tell me again, why my head of security, the man who is supposed to arrange Zorah’s security, failed to notice an American mercenary team hired by her father watching her since we landed in Rome? Tell me why there are men a few houses away hired by Giannone? Tell me how a Russian assassin is in Rome biding his time to put a bullet in my wife on Gallo’s dime. Oh,” he threw his hands up, “tell me how it is none of you or your men, figured out that when Zorah was kidnapped there were two different groups on the beach and some of them were using rubber bullets and some were using real ones.”
“Icaro,” Dagoberto interrupted. “What do you mean, Zorah’s father?”
“Her father. Zipporah lied about Zorah’s biological father. Since she was nine years old, he’s been watching her waiting for a chance to be able to be with her.”
“Impossible.”
“Not impossible. She said she has the DNA proof in front of her and he and his father both have the same eye color as hers.”
“Unbelievable. Why did Zipporah never say anything? Why did he not come forward sooner?” Dagoberto was pacing furiously.
“He said there was more information he would share later but,” he pulled his phone from his pocket, “our focus right now needs to be on the fact those men down the street were going to kidnap Zorah and bring her back to her fucker of an uncle who built a bunker in the church to hide her in.”
“What?”
“He touched her,” Icaro’s rage was palpable as he took a big lungful of air. He looked at Calogero, “I want you to manage this. I want a team in there. I want those men in a safehouse, and I want time with them. Until Vodingo can get his focus off his new bride, which I would have understood if he’d simply said he was having a challenging time balancing it, then he’s relieved from his duties as head of security.”
“Icaro, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not good enough,” He spat at Vodingo. “Your wife is safe at home right now, isn’t she? With guards at her door?”
“Yes.” Vodingo said quietly.
“Is Zorah safe?” Dagoberto tried to intervene in the argument.
“She is. She wants to come home. Her father is not permitting her to come home until such time our mess is cleaned up. Most importantly he wants Ippocrate Giannone dead.”
“You said he touched her. What did you mean?”
Icaro passed his phone to his father and watched the man pale. “The man who sent this to me included a text message which said Zorah vomited when she saw this photo. She has no recollection of the events but was relieved to note she did have undergarments on in the photo.”
“Who sent you this?”
“Her uncle.”
“She has an uncle?”
“Uncles, aunts, grandparents,” Icaro said quietly but then a small smile pulled his lips. “Her father said if she wanted to come home to me, he would personally deliver her, and she said she was coming home. All I need to do is clean up this mess.”
“Then we clean up this mess.” Dagoberto said simply. “We will start with the Gallo family and the Russian in Rome. You will go and take care of him personally, Icaro but take a small team with you as backup. The Russian took a job which automatically made him an enemy of our family. I want him and his team dead. Vodingo and his team here in Sicily will deal with the rest of the Gallo family who dared to be so bold as to hire someone to kill a Lucchesi bride. Calogero and I will deal with the information Zorah’s father provided. When we clean up the shit here, we’ll take a trip back to America. Its time for us to have a face-to-face chat with Ippocrate Giannone,” he stared at the photo on Icaro’s phone. “He’s going to wish he took his vows a bit more seriously.”
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