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Expensive is a pittance to the profits he could make from a large percentage of such shares.
    He had not informed anyone of this, not even Carlo. He would only say, “I do not care about science fiction. I care only to avenge our famiglia.”
    Luzo cared as well, more than he could express. It was a festering sore in his heart to be away when his family needed him most. Guilt can eat reason, and although he was aware a boy’s presence would not have changed the course of tragedy, illogical thinking at times caused him to believe he may have saved his family…at least his sisters.
    He s ought to continue his papa’s visionary aspirations of legitimacy and erase bad deeds of the past. Many influential people had done this in history. There was such a man, a Roman-Catholic Senator who had begun speaking of his ambition to become President of the United States. The media had not questioned the actions of his father who is rumored to have circumvented the Prohibition laws. Luzo had heard his father speaking about the Irish-American’s purchase of the distribution rights to one of the largest whiskey manufacturers in Europe during that era.
    The Irish politician’s family acquired part of their fortune from the operation of saloons. Some people had speculated, the cloak of legitimacy allowed the politically connected businessman to get by the eye of the law during the Prohibition Era. Americans are somewhat naïve, his father always said. Give the gullible and self-righteous a gangster to hate. Thug, ruffian and names of that sort are attached, yet an Ivy League educated fellow with a pretentious smile is the craftiest criminal, who remains loved and respected. Oftentimes, victims never suspects a robber sits among the wealthiest sipping wine at the table.
    These were thieves in fine clothes such as the banker.
    The banker slammed his hands on the desk. “Are you listening?”
    Only Carlo was allowed to confront him in such a manner; they were brothers and shared a darkened heart. Unfortunately, for the banker he had a chance to experience firsthand the scorched crust around the edges of a charming man.
    The letter opener which sat next to the ashtray was lifted and thrust straight in the arrogant ribcage. The banker grunted, clutched and pulled at the instrument as he stumbled back in shock. Luzo watched with cold uncaring eyes, thankful the nuisance had finally shut-up.
    No one demands money from a Giacanti or barges in where he sits with family unannounced. His family was slaughtered, one by one in their homes, safe havens supposedly from danger or harm. This thing he possessed in his head called fear, did not allow Luzo to trust. An action or words whispered in closed rooms against him were building in France led by this banker. His account was short; only the arrogant dolt dropping to the floor had access.
    “Die, already,” Luzo grumbled with impatience. He stood when the banker silenced and struck the floor.
    Luzo walked calmly to the office door and pulled it open. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring with squinted eyes at the competent secretary stood his brother. He had not gone. Carlo held firm to his word, always honorable.
    “The hour is late, Mademoiselle. You may leave.” Luzo smiled at the secretary.
    “Oui,” she said and quickly gathered her purse, and exited under Carlo’s uncomfortable glare.
    Luzo locked the door once she scurried home. “Must you do that?”
    “Cosa?”
    “Intimidate people.”
    “I was not aware standing quietly is frightening.”
    “We have a situation fratell ino.” Luzo informed Carlo.
    “We?” Carlo asked, still leaning on the wall. He peered around the door frame, looked inside Luzo’s office at the banker lying near the desk and asked, “Has he fallen asleep or have you frightened him to death by sitting?”
    “Cazzo, I need you to take his hat and keys. Dispose of the car near the shantytowns and then return.”
    “Am I supposed to walk back?”