The Prototype

32. Unanswered Questions

MARCELLUS

During the morning, the streets of Italy are still quiet and calm, as the peaking of the sun cast a glowing shadow over the famous architecture that tourist love to visit and take pictures of, walking and traveling along the cobblestone streets. As early risers and businesses are still opening up, preparing for the day of business with minimal morning traffic.

The atmosphere in the car was heavy with an unsettling silence, and I'm sure Uncle Galileli could feel my rage stirring up the closer we got to the restaurant. My chest tightens with an overwhelming mix of anger and frustration, every beat of my heart seem to pulse with fiery indignation, coursing through my veins and fueling my growing wrath as approach the street in which the restaurant sits.

Seeing only a few Sicilian officers, some of them I'm very familiar with, outside talking to the made-men who oversees the operation of the business at the restaurant. The car come to an complete stop, as I wait, my eyes observe the severity of the damage: shattered windows and the glass from the door completely gone, stoking the fury that had been brewing within me since I was rudely awakened.

Finally, my door opens, allowing me to step out onto the pavement, one foot after the other. I exit the vehicle, making my way towards the restaurant, noticing the curious glances of a few passing tourists, their eyes lingering on the scene. The sound of glass crunching beneath my shoes filled the air as I step closer, "Marcellus." I heard, belonging to the head of Italy's law enforcement.

"Giuseppe," I echoe, mirroring his inflection as I face him. "Your employee informed me that this appears to be a random robbery, possibly an attempt to score some quick cash. My team and I thoroughly inspected the area, and we concur. They ruin any surveillance footage we could have collected, suggesting that the perpetrators were quite cunning. Nevertheless, if you wish for us to conduct a more comprehensive investigation, we are more than willing to do so," he elaborated, his accent lending weight to his words.

It's common knowledge that Italian law enforcement harbors suspicions about Costa Nostra, especially since there are still families in Sicily, Italy, engaging in criminal activities and unexplained murders. However, they understand that without substantial evidence, particularly implicating the Galileli family, it remains mere speculation.

I politely shook my head "No need for the investigation, I trust in my employee's word that it was a random robbery and footage was loss so there's no need to even waste time. All I want to do is get my restaurant cleaned up and fixed." I explain to him. He stares at me for a split moment as I'm sure he probably does have his suspicion that I am going to handle it my way without the law enforcement help but once again, there's no evidence proving my ulterior motive.

He nods his head "Alright then, we will allow you to get to it. If there's anything you need, you let us know." he offered. Knowing that's something I won't ever do. I simply nod my head. He reaches his hand out towards me. I looked down at it and then back at him, accepting the gesture. As our hands connected, he steps further towards me. "Sono sicuro che hai una bella squadra di pulizie" he whispers towards me taunting about me having a good 'clean up crew'.

He steps back looking me in my eyes as I did not respond to him and allowing what ever underlying meaning to his sentence make his suspicion continue to be nothing but a suspicion. "Buona giornata." Good day I spoke ignoring his previous words. Our hand shake ended as he continue to stare at me wanting to get an expression from me and yet, he fails. He subtly nods his head and then gesture to his men and they all begin to leave.

I tug on the door handle of the restaurant opening the door to the building with Rocky and Uncle Galileli trailing behind. Pausing for a moment, I carefully survey the restaurant, taking in the sight of overturned tables and chairs, shattered glass strewn across the floor from the windows, and broken liquor bottles and liquids from the bar. My gaze drift to the corners of the room, where I notice the vandalized security cameras.