Chapter Two: The Devil's Domain

Alessandro

The basement smelled like sweat and blood.

I sat in the leather chair at the center of the room, a Cuban cigar burning between my fingers. The smoke curled toward the ceiling, twisting in the dim light. In the corner, a man hung from chains bolted into the concrete wall.

His name was Franco.

He had been one of my drivers for five years. He had also been stealing from me for eight months. Small things at first. Packages that went missing. Money that never made it to the accounts. Nothing I would notice, or so he thought.

But I noticed everything.

Two of my guards stood over him. One of them, Enzo, held a metal pipe. The other, Carlo, had his arms crossed, watching. Franco could barely lift his head. His left eye was closed. 

He had been there for four hours. He would not last another.

I took a slow drag from my cigar. The ember glowed red. I let the smoke sit in my lungs for a moment, then I let it drift out.

"How many packages?" I asked.

Franco lifted his head. His good eye found me. "Five. Maybe six. I lost count."

"You lost count?" 

"I needed the money. My wife was sick. The treatments cost everything. I did not know who else to ask."

He started crying. Desperate sobs that shook his whole body. The chains rattled against the pipe.

"Please, Don. Please. I have children. They will have no one."

I watched him for a long moment. The cigar burned down between my fingers. I wasn't enjoying this. Should I spice things up a little?

I decided against it. Spicing things up always led to death.

Enzo looked at me, waiting for the signal. One nod and it would be over. Franco knew it too. His sobs grew louder.

I opened my mouth to speak.

But the footsteps on the stairs interrupted me.

Matteo appeared in the doorway. My consigliere. He had been with me for twelve years. He never interrupted without reason.

I held up my hand. Enzo stepped back.

"What is it?" I asked.

Matteo walked toward me. His shoes clicked on the concrete floor. He glanced at Franco, then looked away. His face was calm, but I saw something in his eyes. Something that made me sit forward.

"There is news about the Rossi situation," he said quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Dante Rossi."

"He borrowed fifty thousand euros from us three months ago. The collectors have been to his house twice. He has not paid back a single euro."

I remembered the file. A gambler. A drunk. The man who borrowed money he could never repay, then begged for more time when the collectors came.

"He asked for another week," Matteo continued. "He said he would have the money by Friday. The collectors told him no."

I took a drag from my cigar. "What did he say?"

Matteo hesitated. That caught my attention. He never hesitated.

"He said he had no money. No assets. Nothing of value left to sell."

"Then we wait. If he does not pay by Friday, we take something from him. The house. And everything he has left."

Matteo shook his head slowly. "That is what they told him. But then something happened this morning."

I waited.

"Gallo. One of our collectors. He called me an hour ago. He said Rossi approached him this morning with something."

I felt a flicker of interest. "What something?"

"Gallo said Rossi took him to the black market. Sold an item there. A personal item and handed Gallo the money himself. Every dime."

I sat forward. "How much?"

"One hundred thousand euros."

The cigar stopped halfway to my lips. One hundred thousand. Double what of he owed.

"He paid more than he owed?"

Matteo nodded. "He handed Gallo fifty thousand to cover the debt. Then he took the remaining fifty thousand and said he would be back to gamble with it."

I laughed. A real laugh. The kind I had not made in weeks. The man owed me money, sold something to pay me back, then kept half to gamble more. Dante Rossi was either the bravest fool I had ever met or the stupidest.

"Where did he get that kind of money?" I asked. "The man has nothing. No house. No car. No job."

"That is the thing." Matteo's voice dropped. "Gallo said the item Rossi sold was worth far more than what the black market gave him. He said the dealer practically begged Rossi to name his price. But Rossi took the hundred thousand and walked away. Would not take a single euro more."

I put my cigar down. Something was wrong. Dante Rossi was a man who squeezed every cent from every deal. He would not walk away from money. Not unless he had a reason.

"What was the item?"

Matteo shook his head. "Gallo said he didn't see it. And Dante wouldn't say."

I waited.

"He said the item was not Rossi's to sell. That it belonged to someone else.”

My jaw tightened. Rossi stole something. Something valuable enough to pay his debt and leave him with gambling money. 

Something that was not his.

"Who does it belong to?"

Matteo looked at me directly. "That is where it gets interesting. Gallo said Rossi mentioned a name. Gillian Rossi. The item belonged to Dante’s elder brother."

"Hmm.” I rubbed my chin. Interesting.

What could it be?

"Where is the item now?" I asked.

Matteo's smile returned. "That is why I came down here. The black market dealer who bought it? He is not keeping it. He is selling it tonight. At an auction."

My eyes narrowed. "Where?"

"At the old warehouse on Via Roma. It's an underground auction and it starts at midnight." Matteo paused. "The organizers reached out to me personally. They wanted you to attend.”

I stood up from my chair. Franco flinched in his chains, thinking I was coming for him. I did not even look at him.

My mind was turning. Dante Rossi was a coward. A gambler. A thief. But what item could be worth so much that the black market dealer was already putting it up for auction? What item did a dead man give his brother that was worth a hundred thousand euros and more?

I looked at my watch. Nine o'clock. Three hours until midnight.

I turned to Enzo. "Cut him down. Take him to a doctor. Get his face cleaned up."

Franco let out a sound. Half sob, half gasp. His chains rattled as Enzo moved toward him with the keys.

I walked up the stairs and into my study. 

The clock on my desk read nine fifteen.

Matteo followed me inside and closed the door.

I walked to the window and looked out at the city. Vercelli was quiet tonight. The streets were empty. But somewhere in that darkness, an item was waiting to be sold. 

I turned away from the window. "We are going to this auction.”