The Sicilian Defence

PROLOGUE

Pine Grove, Pennsylvania

October 27, 1932

The early morning hours of October 27, 1932, descended on the small town of Pine Grove with a prediction of another hot and steamy day. The weather forecast for northwestern Pennsylvania bore a strong resemblance to the heat and humidity more commonly experienced during the month of August.

The temperature might reach the predicted high 90’s for the town of Pine Grove, but only one person could predict how this day would end with one small family of immigrants.

Alfio Crisafulli rose from his bed when he heard the rooster crowing in the back yard. He dressed quickly, throwing on pants, shirt and shoes. Then hurried out the back door and into the henhouse, collecting a basket of eggs for the family breakfast.

Nina Crisafulli went to wake the children for breakfast. The three oldest children would need to prepare for school on this warm fall morning. School would be the last thing on the minds of the children. The hot weather would beckon to the children to come out to play instead.

The young couple found falling asleep the night before extremely difficult. The slow, warm breeze, thick with humidity, barely moved the air inside their small home, despite the open windows.

The lack of sleep did not alter their optimistic attitude toward this day.

Alfio and Nina felt pleased and hopeful about the prospect of a busy and productive day ahead. Good news came to Alfio yesterday by way of a friend.

He told Alfio of the firm possibility of acquiring a steady although temporary job. Alfio’s friend told him the Pine Grove Streets Department needed to hire a couple of strong, able-bodied men to start digging ditches today.

His friend told Alfio to be at the corner of Main Street and South Centre Street by 8 AM. A foreman from the Street Department would be waiting to hire men for the jobs available.

The job would be temporary, but it paid well. Alfio planned to secure one of those jobs for himself. He needed the job to help feed his family and pay their meager bills.

Like so many other men in town, who lost their jobs during the Depression, Alfio had been out of work for the radiator manufacturing company for almost six months.

He frequently found only temporary, backbreaking work digging ditches, helping to lay railroad tracks and, in general, temporary day labor jobs. He still held onto the hope that one of his temporary jobs would turn into a permanent position.

The Crisafulli family, always frugal in their spending, relied heavily on their skills to maintain their food supply. They kept a healthy garden of vegetables and raised chickens, the basis of their food sources.

With scant financial resources, they limited the purchase of anything local to the bare necessities. Everything edible Nina prepared from scratch in their kitchen. They relied on the volume of meat, eggs and vegetables available in their backyard to feed their growing family.

Nina made the children’s clothing and reworked those clothes to fit the next one in line with four children. Nevertheless, there were still bills to pay including rent and utilities. Their families in Sicily helped to supplement their finances through these hard times.

Nina and the children finished with breakfast while Alfio prepared to leave for the downtown intersection of Main and Centre Streets. Alfio hoped the Streets Department Foreman would recognize his face from previous jobs. He believed it could work in his favor this time, too.

Eight years had passed since their move to Pine Grove, and one more child had joined the young family, Giuseppe, Joseph in American. Joseph, age three, would spend the day at home with his mother.

The Crisafulli family adhered to the Italian tradition of naming their children after family members, Francesco after Alfio’s father as the firstborn of the twins then Antonino after Nina’s father.

Their only daughter, Domenica, acquired her name from her paternal grandmother, Alfio’s mother. Joseph, the youngest, received his name after the eldest of Alfio’s siblings.

Alfio kissed and hugged his wife and children goodbye ready to start a new day of opportunity to secure work.

When Alfio set off for his destination, the time was 7:30 AM. More than enough time to leisurely walk to his destination.

As he started down Spring Street, Alfio turned to wave goodbye one more time to his wife and children standing in the doorway.

At thirty-nine years of age, Alfio Crisafulli, had no idea it would be the last time he would see his home.

Chapter I

Furnari, Sicily

November 1932

Al fine. Dio volendo lo faro. (To the End. If God wills, I shall do this.) Those words had brought to a close the meeting in Rome between Francesco and Niccolo before he came to Furnari.

Niccolo Crisafulli sat comfortably in the winged back chair and smiled to himself as he looked around the waiting area outside his grandfather’s office. There was only one chair outside the private meeting room. His grandfather, Francesco Crisafulli, was always in control.

The jeweled-toned walls held a few scenic pictures of Furnari, but no family pictures. Francesco insisted that all family pictures remain private but on display in the library down the hall. He did not like having the public see family portraits and possibly recognize his family members.

The chair, strategically situated at an adjacent angle from the office door, held the next person to see Francesco. The office door was slightly ajar. There was no waiting line to see his grandfather. There never was a line.

Anyone else who wanted or needed to see Francesco must wait outside the house and have an appointment.

His soldiers, when on active duty, required no appointment. At night, they could enter the house through a rear door to meet with Francesco’s consulente. Otherwise, they came through the front door, straight to his office. They would be expected.

While Niccolo sat, he watched his grandfather’s soldiers come and go from his office. Some had arrived to pay homage to him and extend their condolences while others came for their latest assignment. Francesco reigned with an iron fist of discipline, insisting that his soldiers dress in black suits unless on a mission that required disguise. Many wore an additional black armband on the right arm in sympathy for the family.

They walked by with their heads bent in deep discussion. They barely noticed Niccolo at first. When Niccolo caught their eye, they greeted him with open arms.

A round of warm handshakes, smiles, enthusiastic back patting with quick words of condolence offered on the death of his uncle. They all knew Alfio. After a brief exchange of social amenities with Niccolo, they quickly left the villa to fulfill their latest assigned duties.

It was late morning when Niccolo first arrived from Rome at his grandfather’s villa in Furnari, Sicily. His grandfather’s driver brought him straight from the docks in Messina, Sicily to the villa’s front door.

The Crisafulli villa displayed the expected signs and symptoms of a family and home cloaked in grief. It permeated the usual gaiety inside the family home and hung over the villa like a dark cloud. A different kind of storm was on its way, but it had nothing to do with the weather.

Niccolo’s mother, Marlena, spent the morning checking the front entrance. She was watching and waiting for her son to arrive. She was on her way to assist his grandmother, Domenica, in the kitchen when she spotted the limousine coming up the long drive. Domenica would have to wait while she greeted her only son.

When he stepped through the front door, she clapped her hands together, softly called out his name then extended her arms to hold her son. Niccolo took three long strides pulled his mother to him in a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head. Then he stood back, appraised her from head-to-toe and smiled.

My mother grows more beautiful every time I see her, Niccolo said hugging her again.

Oh! Stop it, Niccolo! she replied and laughed, her green eyes sparkling when she looked at him. He could see she was flattered by his compliment as she flushed a warm rose into her cheeks.

However, it was the truth. No one could mistake mother and son, with eye and hair color the same and features too similar to raise a question. Their similarity in features made one beautiful and the other remarkably handsome.

Marlena, a full head taller than his father, was petite compared to him. Niccolo was over six foot tall and had to bend to kiss his mother. Marlena and Niccolo spoke briefly in the foyer before she took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen and his grandmother.

The activity in the kitchen resembled organized chaos. Domenica presided over the mid-day meal preparations. Similar to a chef in an upscale restaurant, she rattled off orders to the cooks and waiters. Tray after tray of delectable foods was prepared then taken to the buffet in the dining room.

She tasted the food as it was prepared, added spices to suit her taste and controlled the timing and precision of the preparations necessary to have everything presented at the same time.

When Niccolo stepped into the kitchen, everyone stopped in their designated activities and stared at him. Domenica turned toward the kitchen doorway with the sudden halt in activity.

The sight of Niccolo brought tears to his grandmother’s eyes. It was the only sign of her grief while she maintained a calm exterior. Her son’s murder brought everyone together on this day. It would take her grandson, Sicario, to avenge her son’s brutal death.

Seeing Niccolo standing in the doorway reminded Domenica why the family gathered on this particular Sunday. Domenica froze for a moment suspecting the imminent danger her grandson faced as he prepared for his trip to America.

Not much in the Crisafulli family got past Domenica. She always seemed to know what was going on before anyone told her. After so many years with Francesco, she knew how to extract information from him to keep a handle on whatever was going on. Domenica did not like surprises.

Niccolo beckoned to his grandmother to join him. Marlena moved past Niccolo and into the kitchen. With a wave of his mother’s hand, the activity resumed.

Niccolo drew his grandmother out of the kitchen with little protest from her. His mother efficiently took over with supervising the help. They walked out to the veranda and strolled over to the double-seated swing where Niccolo took a seat beside her.

Domenica, dressed all in black, still wore her mourning dress and would for a long time. She held a lace hanky in her hand, which she tucked up her sleeve, ready to dab at her eyes. Her tears came quickly in her grief for her son. So far, the tears did little to ease the pain of her loss.

Despite her advancing age and pure white hair, Domenica remained an exceptionally stunning and youthful looking woman.

At his grandmother’s request, Niccolo spoke about his life in general then brought the conversation around to the purpose of his mission in America. He briefly explained to her Francesco’s plan for his trip as well as the expected results. He tried to alleviate some of her concerns and reassured her of his safety. She listened to him with avid interest nodding her head and asking questions when appropriate.

When he finished, she stared at him for a moment then nodded her head with finality giving her consent to the plan.

She took his hands in hers and squeezed tightly. She smiled at him, took his face in her hands, and kissed him on each cheek. Niccolo patted her hands, smiled at her in return then leaned over and kissed her cheek. It relieved him to know his grandmother supported the plan to avenge her son’s death.

Niccolo sat with his grandmother for a short while longer then the two rose and walked into the house. It would not be long before he received his summons to his grandfather’s office to learn the rest of the details of his trip.

Niccolo knew his grandfather, Francesco, watched from the window in his room while he spoke with his grandmother as they sat in the garden. He saw his grandfather’s silhouette against the glass. A set of French doors in Francesco’s office opened directly onto the patio. Francesco would have a full-face view of his wife and know her reaction to Niccolo’s words to her.

They mutually agreed that Niccolo should be the one to tell his grandmother formally about his trip to America and acquire her consent.

Francesco approved of Niccolo’s choice to single her out with the respect she deserved. He knew his wife well enough to know that hearing the news directly from Niccolo and seeing his willingness to comply would go a long way toward her approval of the venture. Her consent was essential to Francesco.  

Francesco Crisafulli, Niccolo’s grandfather, remained the patriarch of the Crisafulli family. Despite his frailty and waning health status, he continued to handle the complexity of the family business with ease. His son Joseph, Niccolo’s father, acted as Francesco’s right-hand man and frequently functioned on his behalf in his absence.

Nevertheless, Francesco had the final say on all the main family business decisions. With the murder of his son in America, Francesco would draw up the plans to avenge his son’s death and scrutinize every detail down to the last one.

Niccolo already knew his grandfather selected him to be Sicario and deliver his personal message to the citizens of Pine Grove, Pennsylvania. His grandfather’s recent trip to Rome signified his choice for the mission was Niccolo.

Years of experience as Sicario prepared Niccolo for this job. However, this mission would be the most important job Niccolo would ever do.

Chapter II

Tutti i Nodi Vengono al Pettine

-The Day of Reckoning Will Come

Niccolo didn’t have long to wait for his grandfather to call him into his office. His grandfather quickly cleared his office of bosses and soldiers with a mere wave of his hand. Only Niccolo’s father, Joseph, and Michael Torre remained.

Mike Torre held the status of consulente (counselor) to Niccolo’s father and grandfather within the Crisafulli family. Niccolo’s father, Joseph, Alfio and Mike Torre served together throughout WWI, continuing their brotherly friendship since childhood.

Francesco rose from his seat when Niccolo entered the office. His face beamed with the smile he bestowed on his favorite grandson. Niccolo crossed the room and walked around the desk. He hugged his grandfather and shook hands with his father and Mike. His grandfather exchanged social amenities with Niccolo then sat back down at his desk. The three men took their seats around Francesco’s desk.

Mike Torre opened the business end of the conversation. Everything has been arranged, Nicco. You’ll travel on the R.M.S. Mauretania from Cherbourg, France to New York City under the name, Daniel Washington. Michael Torre’s tanned face smiled at Niccolo as he began his review of the itinerary for his trip to the United States.

Nicco had been his grandparent’s pet name for Niccolo since he was an infant. The nickname had followed him into adulthood. Niccolo listened respectfully to Mike repeat the information he already knew. When his grandfather informed him in Rome of his trip to America as Alfio’s Sicario, he took the time to memorize the details of his mission.

Thoroughly reviewing the details of any mission was his grandfather’s manner of assuring himself that everyone involved was on the same page with any business venture. However, this meeting would be their last opportunity to settle any last minute problem, which might arise while Niccolo was in America.

Once you arrive in New York, you’ll travel by train to Pine Grove, Pennsylvania. It’s a small town of about 7,000 located in northwestern Pennsylvania. The timetable for your train trip indicates you’ll arrive early in the morning on December 18, Mike said. Nicco smiled and nodded in response to Mike’s statement.

To carry out your cover story as a mortician’s assistant, you’ll need to look the part. Although the position is more of an apprentice type of job, you’ll dress as a freshly graduated college boy, Mike said and smiled. All of the appropriate clothing you’ll need for your role will be in your trunks. Make it a priority to fit into the general population as quickly as you can.

I understand, Mike, Nicco replied and smiled in return.

Mike went on to his review of Francesco’s plan. Our information, from our contacts in the area, clearly indicates the citizens of Pine Grove are very skeptical of anyone new in town since the murder. It is more than likely their initial caution will fall by the wayside after a few days. If the Federal Raid of 1930 is any indication, and I believe it is, they’ll drop their guard soon, he said with a smirk.

Mike continued. That’s when your disguise will be the most beneficial to you. No one will pay much attention to someone who does not look threatening to the citizens. The citizens are desperately trying to regroup after the murder and get back to business as usual. I’ve reserved a berth for you on the train so you can get some rest then change into your clothing before you reach your destination.

Two trunks sat on the floor of his grandfather’s office filled with clothing and other items Nicco would require during his trip. He rose from his chair and walked over to the trunks glancing at their contents. He had sent a request by telegraph to Mike to include his favorite weapons in his trunks.

He saw that his request was fulfilled with the placement of the false bottoms inside the trunks.

Niccolo also required the inclusion in his trunks of some particular documents connected with the murder. He wanted to have the information contained in those documents readily available to him.

His choice of weapons, packed underneath his clothing, were concealed under a false bottom in the trunks. The necessary documents he required to complete his mission, secured inside a leather briefcase, lay on top of the clothing.

Your grandfather’s associates in America know of your arrival, but we did not notify family members in Pine Grove. We need to maintain secrecy for their safety during your mission, Mike said.

I agree, Mike, Nicco responded. Francesco sat back in his chair and watched the interaction between Mike and Nicco nodding in approval with Mike’s statements.

"Your first contact is a man named Perry Collins. He already knows someone is coming but does not know your name. Your code word for him is ‘Sicario.’ Get close to him as quickly as you can. You know the drill, Nicco. Make the best of all situations as they become available to you," Mike stated.

He finished by giving Nicco a detailed physical description of Perry Collins, his address, and favorite haunts.

Nicco nodded in return. It was not the first time he served in the role of Sicario, and it would not be the last. Then, with a nod to Francesco, Mike returned to placing papers in a file, which lay open on the desk.

Francesco was dressed in his finest suit for this particular occasion. The suit hung loosely on his thin frame. Since his son’s death at the end of October, his failing health and increasing frailty became a constant visual reminder to his family of what was to come. His bright white hair and eyebrows made his brown eyes, cheekbones and chin more prominent than Nicco could remember.

The villa compound contained three primary households. One house held Nicco’s grandparents who remained independent despite Francesco’s two heart attacks in late October. The second home was for Nicco’s parents because his father was the eldest son. The third house was for family visitors and the occasional guests to the Crisafulli villa. Nicco would stay with his grandparents for a few days before he left for France.

With the death of Alfio Crisafulli in America, the responsibility of notifying the family back in Sicily fell upon the second son, Antonino Tony Crisafulli, who also lived in the United States. Tony and Alfio Crisafulli were only two years apart in age. They grew up as close as brothers could be just short of being twins.

The news of Alfio’s death came as a crushing blow to Uncle Tony. Alfio’s death left a hole in Tony’s heart, a hole, which would remain open, painful and empty for the rest of his life.

Nicco’s Uncle Tony lived in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. However, Tony would not have a role in Nicco’s mission. Francesco had forbidden Tony’s involvement - with one exception. No one was to risk Tony’s life except as a last resort. Tony was aware of the declaration to avenge Alfio’s death and the plans to resolve the issue in Pine Grove.

The one exception to Francesco’s rule: Nicco. If Nicco felt he needed Uncle Tony’s help in any manner, only then could he contact him. Nicco felt sure he would not need to bring Uncle Tony into the resolution of this delicate and dangerous matter.

Francesco sat at his desk and leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the desk and balanced his chin on his clenched fists as he listened to Mike. He kept a constant eye on Nicco while Mike reviewed the plan. He knew the next few days might be the last time he would see his grandson.

Francesco sat back in his chair with a smile of satisfaction on his face. He was confident with the knowledge that he had chosen the right man to execute a final retribution to the citizens of Pine Grove. The select group of Pine Grove citizens would not soon forget the murder of his son - or this young man who would make fools of them, Francesco thought.

Nicco felt Francesco’s eyes on him, recognizing the approving smile on his grandfather’s face. He gave his grandfather a quick head nod and a knowing smile in return. Any minute misgivings in Francesco’s mind about sending his grandson resolved as soon as their eyes met.

Mike moved quickly in and out of the office with a checklist in hand, as he selected various items to place in the trunks.

"It wasn’t enough to take Alfio’s life. They tried to hide the truth and dishonor him and his family. There was no justice served in this matter! Therefore, we will intervene with our kind of penalty. It’ll be your job as ‘Sicario,’ to finish this!" Joseph stated as he watched Mike complete the list.

Something’s bothering you this time, Joseph. I hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes. What’s wrong? Francesco asked in his soft yet stern voice. My son is a kettle ready to boil over and burn everyone in his path.

When he hesitated to answer, Francesco wagged his finger at his son.

Speak up, Joseph. We must resolve all problems or questions before we can send Nicco to this foreign place. Any misgivings must be settled, he said.

In the silence of the office, the distant sound of voices intermingling with the clatter of pots and pans came from the kitchen. Above the clatter, Nicco heard his grandmother singing in the background. The aroma of spaghetti sauce, cheese, and spices filled the air. Sunday dinner preparations, a weekly family tradition, would continue as normal.

Soon enough, a barrage of aunts, uncles, and cousins would arrive at the Crisafulli villa. They were aware of Francesco’s plan for Nicco’s mission and the possibility he might not return. Nevertheless, in the end, all would be set right in America concerning the murder of Alfio Crisafulli – one way or the other. Justice would be served to all Francesco held responsible. For the Crisafulli family, it was a celebratory occasion and a farewell dinner for Nicco.

Joseph bent over the chessboard, which sat on the desk while Francesco’s questions hung in the air unanswered. Joseph would not dispute or challenge his father’s choice for Sicario.

However, the death of his brother aroused intense feelings of rage and revenge against those he held responsible for the murder. He wanted to be the one to lead the vendetta.

It was Francesco’s position and choice as patriarch to select the best person to avenge Alfio’s death. Joseph seemed deep in thought as he looked at the board, knuckles pressed against his lips. He did not want to risk angering his father by speaking out of turn. He made his move on the board before responding to his father’s questions.

Joseph shrugged his shoulders, avoiding his father’s eyes. I always worry, Poppa, you know me. Nothing is wrong. However, I would prefer that Mike and I settled the issues concerning Alfio’s death with the community members responsible. It is different this time, Poppa. It is personal, very personal. I can’t tolerate what’s happened to my brother.

Joseph’s face was cold and hard as he continued to speak through clenched teeth. "Sfregio, my ass! The use of this disgusting term, sfregio, is strictly a Mafiosi tool! They accused him of being a traitor, a liar, just to protect their underground economy. Their only intent was to murder Alfio right from the start. They’re the traitors and the liars!" Joseph’s fist came down hard on the desk.

The impact of his fist hitting the desk jostled the chessboard and brought a frown to Francesco’s otherwise serene face. Nicco watched as his father’s jaw locked, and the muscles in his face twitched in anger as he tried to collect himself. He hoped his father would not provoke Francesco.

One look at Francesco and Nicco saw that his grandfather would tolerate the outburst of anger and grief without retaliation. He would allow the men to vent their anger and grief, but he would not change his mind about his choice. Nicco suspected there had been many outbursts from his father and Mike prior to his arrival in Furnari. 

Mike took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. Nicco noted Mike’s failed attempt to conceal his rage when he spoke. Alfio was viciously attacked with a cut-throat razor, right on the street, in broad daylight! Alfio was trying to find a job! My God, he was just looking for a job! shouting the last sentence, his fists clenched in rage.

Joseph remained red-faced but silent to regain his composure. He nodded his head in agreement while listening to Mike.

Mike glanced quickly at Francesco and paused for a moment to collect his emotions.

Then he lowered his voice to continue, We know Alfio’s injury was severe, but it was not a fatal wound. From all the reports, we received, Alfio could have – and should have - gone home under the care of his wife and family. Instead, they forced him to stay in the hospital and before the day was over - he was dead, Mike said. Mark my words - they wanted to make sure he was dead to keep him quiet! He knew too much for these men to allow him to live!

Nicco heard Mike’s voice break with grief at the end of his tirade. Nicco winced and gritted his teeth with the mental picture Mike had drawn when describing the razor attack on his uncle.

A cutthroat razor only has one purpose and it is not shaving, Nicco thought. He tried to imagine what Alfio physically and mentally suffered through on that day - but he couldn’t.

Francesco turned his head away from the men talking, drew his hanky from his pocket, and wiped at his eyes. After listening to Mike and Joseph’s words describing the manner in which Alfio had died, Francesco could not hide his anguish or hold back his tears.

After wiping his eyes, Francesco glanced at Nicco, forced a smile, and then nodded his head. Once again, Francesco felt relieved to have chosen Nicco to avenge his son’s death.

His son, Joseph, and his consulente, Mike Torre, would not have managed the retribution appropriately. Both men were still too quick to anger with a mere discussion of the mission and the plans.

However, his grandson, Nicco, possessed the right qualities to remain cool, calm and collected throughout his mission.

Neither Mike Torre nor Joseph Crisafulli possessed the emotional stability, at this time, to manage the delicacy of the task and certainly not together, Francesco thought.

Their anger would have exploded the minute they arrived in Pine Grove. It would have been a bloodbath for anyone who stood in their way while they extracted their revenge against the citizens responsible for the murder.

If Mike and Joseph were turned loose to extract their vengeance on the people of Pine Grove, they would spare no one. They were much too close to the victim, which wouldn’t benefit the desired outcome or the expected results of the mission.

Their frequent displays of hair-triggered temperament would only lead to a significant disaster with very little satisfaction. Nicco, on the other hand, would close the account without unnecessary bloodshed.

Nicco, find out what happened to your uncle, Francesco said in a soft voice as he shoved his hanky back in his pocket. His face, once again, held a serene countenance. Francesco gestured toward the two men and shook his head in frustration.

Then he sighed. As you can see, your father, and my consulente are unable to cope with this particular assignment. Their inability to control their – anger - would do more harm than good in its misdirection. Francesco looked directly at Joseph and Mike when he spoke to Nicco.

The goal of the mission is to take control of these men and their businesses. They will never make the same mistake again by the time you finish, Francesco said.

Nicco glanced at his father and Mike. They looked at him in return then looked away in embarrassment. Francesco was not likely to tolerate a challenge to his authority, even from his son and his consulente.

Francesco continued with his assessment of the situation. "This job requires a delicate touch, which they are unable to deliver at this time – if ever. We all know my son, Alfio, was no traitor and no liar. I will not tolerate such foul-mouthed lies about my son by these – contadinos (peasants). These men have trashed their lives, but they will not trash Alfio’s honor," he said.

Francesco knew the citizens of Pine Grove would do anything to protect their illegal businesses. They were all too greedy to do otherwise.

Their overwhelming need to hide any involvement or connection with their criminal activities would help Nicco with his job. The civic leaders would do anything to stop the bright light of notoriety from exposing their criminal enterprise.

You have a week, Nicco, to find the truth about my son and deliver the appropriate punishment, Francesco finished.

Nicco was all too familiar with working under a time constraint. He nodded his head to his grandfather. This particular assignment allowed for more time than he usually received to complete it.

Plenty of time to do my job, grandfather. If they should choose not to comply with your decree, grandfather, what is your recourse? Nicco asked.

He already knew the answer from his grandfather, but he wanted Mike and his father to hear it, too. He wanted to make sure that neither his father nor Mike attempted to intervene with his mission without strict orders from Francesco.

Francesco smiled at Nicco, aware of what he was attempting to do for his father and Mike Torre. Any problems and my associates in the area will intervene on your behalf and Alfio’s. However, I suspect these people will follow orders once you have spoken to them.

Joseph and Mike looked at Francesco with expectant and hopeful expressions on their faces.

Francesco would not be the one to disappoint.

If they do not comply, he said as he shrugged his shoulders, then I’ll destroy every one of them. I will turn the mission over to your father and Mike Torre to do whatever they feel will be - appropriate justice.

Joseph and Mike looked at each other, smiled then nodded at Francesco and Nicco.

All arrangements are in place to ensure your safe escape from America, regardless of the outcome, Nicco, Francesco said.

Francesco added in his quiet voice, Someone got away with murder, Nicco – but not for long.

I will do what is required to accomplish my mission, Nicco said. He sat quietly listening respectfully to his grandfather speak.

"We didn’t notify the Crisafulli family in Pine Grove. Our concern was for the safety of the children and Zia(aunt) Nina. The children might – accidentally - let it slip to others. They are children hoping someone will avenge their father’s death, but the information would jeopardize their lives and yours."

I agree, grandfather, Nicco said. Alfio’s family is in enough jeopardy as it is.

"On your own, you won’t be easy to spot as Sicilian or Italian. Alfio’s wife, your Zia Nina, is a mentally resilient and smart lady. She will understand when she finds out the truth behind the deception. Even if she figures out that ‘Sicario’ is there – she can honestly say she knew nothing about it because she was never informed. Otherwise, I don’t believe anyone will know who you are - until you say who you are," Francesco said.

Nina is Sicilian – she’ll say nothing, Joseph chimed into the conversation knowing his sister-in-law. He wore a broad grin on his face.

With your light hair and eyes, not to mention your height – well, you caught your mother’s looks. No one will guess your nationality. It works to your advantage for this job as it has for so many others, Joseph added and smiled at his son. Francesco smiled and nodded.

Nicco rose from his chair and sauntered over to the full-length mirror on the office door. He adjusted his tie and put on his suit jacket for dinner. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror.

He saw a man with broad, muscular shoulders, six feet tall, trim and fit with sandy-colored hair, a light complexion, and green eyes. From his years of training, he carried the weight and muscle to go with his physique.

Underneath his clothes, he bore the scars from his injuries incurred from his work. The injuries ranged from gunshot wounds to the long uneven stiletto scars.

However, Nicco rarely allowed anyone the opportunity to see his battle scars concealed underneath his clothing. On his exterior, Nicco Crisafulli was not the stereotypical Sicilian that filled the imagination of Americans.

Nicco would soon walk into the midst of the Pine Grove citizens, and no one would see who he was or why he was there. With his northern European good looks and flawless American accent, Nicco would be able to mingle with the locals with no trouble.

Nicco could not help but laugh when he walked back to the desk. The Americans he planned to fool would not suspect a thing – until it was too late.

Americans have a way of looking at people through narrowed eyes and closed minds. The recent surge of Italians and Sicilians in America, with short stature, dark hair, and eyes, created a stereotypical look Americans expected to see.

The racism, bigotry, and prejudice directed at Italians and Sicilians in America created an atmosphere of hatred with numerous violent crimes directed toward them. There was no legitimate reason and weak excuses for the maltreatment of Italians and Sicilians.

The resentment over their recent migration to America was the only justification given for the acts of violence. Fear seemed to be the primary undercurrent of emotion fueling the anger and violence directed at Italians and Sicilians.

They were the latest convenient scapegoats to blame when a problem large or small arose, regardless of whether it was a large city like New York City or a small town like Pine Grove.

The most recent immigrants to America were always the favorite targets for those intimidated by someone or something new.

Pine Grove, Pennsylvania would prove to be no different in its treatment directed at recent immigrants, especially Sicilians, and Italians.

Nicco was aware of the historical significance of the end of the American Civil War and the freedom of slaves. The American government went overboard trying to encourage migrant workers to come to the United States to fill the gap left by the slaves. America enthusiastically recruited Sicilians to come to their shores.

The only real interest was to have migrants take over the workload lost by the Emancipation Proclamation and the lack of slaves. The migrant workers were treated as heinously as the slaves were treated, and frequently worse.

The Irish, Scottish, African and Italian were subjected to hideous atrocities, under the disguise of indentured servitude, before and upon their arrival in America. The promise of streets paved with gold only led to streets paved with their blood, sweat, tears – and death.  

Nicco found it surprising and then amusing how quickly Americans conveniently forgot their recent past of being immigrants. Whoever is the newest group of immigrants to come to America will receive the brunt of their anger, frustrations, and hatred. All the while, Americans will work hard to hide the atrocities of treatment directed at migrants.  

Nicco watched as Mike returned to the office with a few more articles, which he placed in the trunks. Nicco scanned the chess game between his father and Mike. Nicco made the last move on the board.

Checkmate, he said when he looked up at Mike. Nicco grinned at Mike then smiled at his grandfather.

Well done, Nicco, his grandfather responded then laughed and clapped his hands. The ‘Sicilian Defence’ employs sound military strategy pitting the wits and intelligence of the skilled against – shall we say - the unskilled. The student has long surpassed his teachers, Francesco said and smiled at Nicco in return.

Francesco motioned to Joseph and Mike to come before him. Now, I wish to speak with my grandson – alone. Francesco pointed to the door to his office.

Joseph and Mike knew there would be information about the mission, which only Nicco would receive from his grandfather. The two men left quietly without question.

Chapter III

Alfio and Antonina

As soon as the door closed behind Nicco’s father and Mike Torre, Francesco motioned to Nicco to follow him over to the settee. The two men sat