Rowland, The Senators Son

Chapter 19 Two Graves

The foyer of the Ortea Palace Luxury Hotel was beautiful, classic marble floors surrounded by large stone archways offering an unobstructed view of the luxury yachts that bobbed softly from the gentle winds flowing over the Mediterranean Sea.

Ignazia sat quietly listening to her Lieutenants, her long legs crossed, fingers steepled.

The men that surrounded her were the most trusted of her company. They had been heavy in conversation over the latest consignment of human cargo and the interference in those shipments. The confab had been organised by her second in charge and Uncle, Fausto Rossocove. The man had been Ignazia's greatest supporter with her bid to take over the family business.

That she had been ruthlessly successful had shocked all except Fausto, he had always known she was the real strength of the Rossocove Twins and the one to suggest that Nerio might be of greater benefit to the family business by taking over US operations.

She had proven him right when Domenico Rossocove had died; Ignazia had eradicated any thought because she was female, she was weak. Any that had challenged her she had taken care of brutally.

One attack had seen her take up arms successfully defending against three assassins that had been sent to kill her and their aged mother. Only one man had the sad distinction of surviving.

***

Brunio was awakened from his slumber by a slight sting on his forehead. He had been sent to dispose of Domenico Rossocove's bitch of a daughter and now found himself disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings.

Staring into the eyes of Ignazia Rossocove, who was standing over him with a bowl of tepid saline water and a cloth tending to his wound like a mother to her child. It was the very wound she inflicted earlier.

They bound his arms behind his back on an old cane chair Brunio realised the predicament he now found himself in. "I won't tell you anything!" he blurted out.

Ignazia smiled "shhhh" replying softly and placed her index finger over Brunio's lips. He could feel the softness of her skin and smell the subtle fragrance of her perfume. Ignazia instinctively knew that the threat of death would not draw out the information she needed from this man.

With a sadistic mix of cunning and creativity, Ignazia looked around the remote building site, noticing several large sheets of clear Perspex and rope.

Straightening she turned to her Uncle Fausto calling, "I want to try something a little different this time." Eyes blazing and a cruel twist to her lips. "Fashion me up a tube..."

Before she could finish Fausto's son, Tommaso piped up. "I'll do it." Her young cousin was definitely keen to impress as he had ever only been party to the quick style of executions ordered by Ignazia.

Enjoying his enthusiasm Ignazia continued with specific instructions "I want a tube wide enough to fit this prick in," she looked Brunio up and down. "Make sure it's about six foot high and all those bags of quick dry cement in that mixer. Then strip him off naked and remove all forms of identification."

Tommaso dutifully obeyed. Once everything was ready, they stuffed a struggling Brunio into the neatly constructed tube. Looking like a naked G.I. Joe doll fresh off the shelf, her instructions continued, "I want you to pour one foot sections and wait thirty minutes for it to cure."

Tommaso turned to her griping, "But that will take forever."

"He's got time." Ignazia replied dryly.

Turning to Tommaso, Ignazia asked. "Do you know what cement does to the human body when it cures?"

Tommaso shrugged and answered "It gets hard?"