The convoy was five cars strong.  One of the cars, the car in the middle of the pack, had been sent by Cassius Gabrini to pick up his grandsons, and Tommy and Sal, after the driver allowed their man to get behind the wheel, rode in that car.  But the other four cars, two out front, and two behind the convoy, belonged to Sal.  Venetti was out there somewhere, and could be connected to this grandfather of theirs for all they knew.  They weren’t taking any chances.

Rome was an ancient city, and it showed to Tommy and Sal, as they looked with amazement at the ruins of old buildings mixed in with the remarkably vibrant new buildings to create what Tommy could only describe as a schizophrenic experience.  They passed the fountains of Rome, the statues of Rome, the Palazzo Senatorio on the Capitoline Hill.  And they kept going until they were driving up to an old-world estate of concrete and glass not far from the city center.

“Ready?” Sal asked his older brother.

“No,” Tommy said.  “But we’re here now.”

Sal swallowed hard.  The idea of having anything to do with their father’s relative didn’t sit well with either of them.  Their father was a monster.  There was no getting around that.  And this grandfather could be too.

Either way, they took no chances.  Sal’s men in Rome got out first, made it clear that they were armed to the teeth, and stood guard as they gave the nod for the door to open, and for Tommy and Sal to emerge.

Tommy and Sal stepped out of the backseat of the car.  Sal buttoned his Armani suitcoat, and exhaled.  Tommy, suited up in a long white coat his Uncle Mick gave to him, with a black suit underneath, buttoned his suitcoat as well.  And then they looked as a tall, slender, older man came hurrying out of the house, his hand extended as he approached them, smiling grandly.  Too grandly, if you asked Sal.

“Thomas!” the man said excitedly.  “Salvatore Luciano!”  He shook first Tommy’s hand, and then Sal’s hand vigorously.  “Welcome to Rome!  Benvenuti a Roma!  I am Cassius.  I am your grandfather!”

Tommy and Sal didn’t know what to say, so they shook his hand and said nothing.  On first blush, they didn’t see any Gabrini resemblance.  Just an old man overdoing the grinning.

“Come on in, please!  You came from so far away.  Let me get you comfortable, no?”

That seemed bloody unlikely to Sal as well as Tommy, but they, and half of their men, followed the old man into his home.

Once in, and settled in the big, but very sanitized, uninviting parlor, both men declined drinks.  They just wanted to get on with it.  Cassius eventually saw it, too, and sat in the chair in front of them.

“I assume you are surprised to have heard from me,” he said.

“That would be a good assumption,” said Sal.

“It is so surreal to have the two of you in my home.  I used to pray for this day.”

“What?” Sal asked with a frowned expression on his face.

“I used to pray for this day,” Cassius repeated.  “Why?  Did I say something wrong?  You do not believe in the power of prayer, Salvatore Luciano?”

“Of course I believe in it,” Sal said.  “But what are you praying for when all you had to do was hop a plane and come and see us?  You knew where to find us because you sent that attorney straight to Tommy’s house.  What do you think we’re a couple of idiots?”

“I would never think that of my grandsons.”

“Then what are you talking?  This reunion could have happened years ago.  If that’s really what you wanted.”

“Yes, I get what you’re saying.  But no.  It could not happen until now.”

“Why?” Tommy asked.

Cassius smiled at him.  “You are what we used to call when you were first born quello bello! That is, the beautiful one.  I see you have retained your beauty and, perhaps, acquired more.”

Tommy was uncomfortable, and Sal knew it.  Tommy hated, absolutely hated being thought of that way.  It cost him too much being thought of that way.

“And you, Salvatore Luciano, is what we called when you were first born, il Toro!  That is, the Bull.  I see you, too, have not strayed much from the first indications.”

Sal didn’t particularly like that delineation of himself, either, and Tommy saw it.  “Know what else bulls are good at?” Sal asked Cassius.

“No, what?”

“Seeing bullshit,” Sal responded.  “Now what the fuck is this about?”

Cassius was surprised by Sal’s bluntness and blatant disrespect, but he wasn’t overly concerned.  He would have to earn Sal’s trust.  He already knew that.  But they had more important matters to pursue right now.  “This is about providing assistance.”

“Assistance?” Tommy asked.  “What kind of assistance?”

“Salvatore’s father is in trouble.  He needs help.  He needs assistance.”

Sal and Tommy both frowned.  They looked at each other, and then looked at Cassius.  “Wait a minute,” Sal said.  “What the fuck you just said?”

Cassius was getting a short fuse with Sal’s disrespect, but he let it go.  For his son’s sake, he let it go.  “Your father needs help,” he said again.

“What father?” Sal asked.

“Our father is dead,” said Tommy.  “What are you talking about?”

“Your father is dead,” Cassius said to Tommy.  “My son, Benny, was your father.  He is dead.  Salvatore’s father, Neeco, is not.”

Tommy, floored, looked at Sal.  Sal couldn’t believe it.  “Who the fuck is Neeco?” he asked.

“Neeco Gabrini is my son,” Cassius said.  “Neeco is your father, Salvatore.  I am sorry to be the one to inform you, but it could not be helped.  Your father is here.  In Rome.”

Sal was dumbstruck.  There was no other word for it.  His father wasn’t Benny Gabrini?  His father was still alive, and living in this very city he was now in?

Sal looked at his older brother.  He needed him to hold him up.

Tommy, as usual, did not disappoint him.  “You say this Neeco is your son?” Tommy asked Cassius.

“That is correct.”

“Why we never heard of him?  Our father, my father, never spoke of having another brother here in Rome.  Why would he ignore his own brother?”

“You and Salvatore had two different fathers, as you are right now learning.  Neeco and Benny had two different mothers.  They were not raised in the same households.   They were not at all affectionate one toward the other.  Benny went to the new world and refused to have anything more to do with us.  Paulo was the same.  Years come and go.  Contact is lost.”  Paulo was Reno Gabrini’s father.

“So you’re saying we have different fathers,” Tommy asked, “but the same mother?”

“That is correct,” Cassius said.  “Jacqueline Sinatra gave birth to both of you.  You, Thomas, was Benny’s son.  There is no question about that.  But she and Benny were separated when she became pregnant with Salvatore.  She was here, in Rome, when she became pregnant with Salvatore.  My wife wanted her to come, to get away from Benny’s abusiveness, and she came.  But she and Neeco became friends, and then lovers, while she was here.  She was with Neeco, and planned to remain with Neeco, when she became pregnant with Salvatore.  Benny threatened to kill her if she did not return to the States, so she returned.  And pretended he fathered you, Salvatore, because she feared for her life.  He was such a madman that none of us wanted anything to do with him, either, so we didn’t dispute it or even discuss it.  It was better, in that circumstance, we felt, to let sleeping dogs lie.  But we, here in Rome, know for a fact that Benjamin was not the father of Jacqueline’s second son.  Even Benny knew it too, and came to Rome to confront Neeco.  But Neeco, without a doubt, is your father.”

Sal didn’t know how to react.  Was this real, or bullshit?  He had no clue!  Once again, he looked at Tommy.

Tommy wanted to pull Sal into his arms.  He knew how tough, but also how emotional his kid brother could be.  He grew up believing their father hated him.  And he was probably right, now that they heard this news.  But what if this Neeco was no better?  What if the monster they buried in the States gave way to an even worse monster alive and well in Rome?  It felt like it was almost too much to take.

“You said this Neeco, your son, is in trouble,” Tommy said.

Cassius nodded.  Sal was in shock, and Tommy was too.  But somebody had to handle the business, and Tommy was doing so.  He wasn’t just a pretty face as Cassius had feared, he thought.  “Yes,” Cassius said.  “He is in trouble.  He needs assistance.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He will have to tell you that.”

“You said he needed assistance.”

“That’s right.”

“Why can’t you assist him?” Tommy asked, and Sal looked at Cassius too, as if that very question had been on his mind also.

“It is a situation; how do you say? Out of my purview?  I am afraid that I am ill-equipped to assist in the way Neeco needs.”

“But we’re equipped?”

“Salvatore is, yes.  He is, after all, a costa nostra, no?”

Both brothers stared at Cassius.  What was this?  Some kind of a set up?  Were the Feds behind this entire reunion?

“I’m not Mafia, no,” Sal made clear.  “Whoever told you that was fucking with you.”

Cassius smiled.  He knew exactly what Sal was.  “Yes, of course.  My mistake.  You are not in the honored society.  I apologize.  But Neeco needs your assistance still.”

Sal stood up.  Tommy and Cassius did, too.  “I’m out of here,” he said.

“But what about Neeco?” Cassius asked.

“Fuck Neeco!” Sal responded.  “His ass supposed to be my father, and he didn’t think enough of me to even try and get in touch with me until he needs my help?  Fuck him!  He didn’t know me, I don’t know his ass!”  And Sal began heading for the exit.

“Talk to him, Thomas,” Cassius implored.  “This is not a test.  This is not a joke.  His father needs him.”

Cassius extended his hand.  Tommy didn’t shake it.  He hurried behind Sal, to make sure Sal was okay.