19. The Boss of Paris (3 pgs.) – Champions Renaissance

ACT I - CHAPTER 19

THE BOSS OF PARIS

Wednesday February 28

Tour D’Cygne Fencing Club

Paris France

Franco Gambino and Lenel Anston walked toward their meeting with The Family. Lenel limped, still recovering from his fall in Munich. They changed into robes and entered the semi-dark temple for the ritual.

“The Family appreciates your efforts, Comrade Hawk,” Franco said, leading the meeting of thirty influential European men. Hawk was Lenel’s secret name, used to separate his initiate identity from his profane one.

“In recognition of your loyalty, you are now the Boss of Paris,” Franco added.

Lenel stood in the centre, receiving the sword of power. He placed the tip of the sword on each person’s head as they swore: “Faithful to you until death without asking.” The oath had survived since the Bronze Age.

Lenel was Boss of Paris, but he distrusted Franco and The Family, whom he considered hypocrites. He would rule Paris to fulfil God’s will.

“This servant must retire to make way for new generations who will continue our work,” Franco said.

After the meeting, Franco invited Lenel to his apartment. Five strangers arrived minutes later. They dined at a large wooden table, discussing the unbroken ideal of their families across forty generations.

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“The experience accumulated over centuries is not in vain. Now you will channel it to continue gaining power in our order. Cheers to the Hawk!” Franco toasted.

“Cheers!” they echoed.

“The Family is happy and calm. Hawk must avoid unnecessary violence. He could fall into a trap,” said the oldest at the table. Lenel knew it was a warning not to target Alexandre.

“What if he falls into the trap?” Lenel asked, drunk with new power.

“The Family will not be happy or calm,” the man answered. He was white-skinned, bald, thin, skull-like face, brown eyes, medium height called Genaro.

Genaro Spoletti was the intermediary for the hidden boss. His voice commanded The Family. He wore a large gold chain and crucifix over black, with a silver medallion showing a crescent moon and Buddha.

“If The Family is generous, you must be generous with The Family,” Genaro said.

“I am generous because my ideal is divine will,” Lenel replied.

Silence stretched.

“I am not speaking of divine ideals, bambino. The Family wants to be generous, but you must be generous in return. No more motorcycle accidents. Case closed. Capisci?”

Rumours said he fell off his motorcycle on the Munich highway because he was drunk. Lenel was outraged. The story was false. Only a few knew it happened after shooting at Alexandre’s car, but the rider of the other motorcycle that forced him off the road remained unknown.

“Are you asking me to kneel to control Paris?” he asked. No one answered. Silence pressed. “Do you want me to abandon faith and my convictions?” A bodyguard laid a butcher knife in front of Genaro.

The silence intensified. Lenel grasped the cost of power. They could kill or mutilate him. He felt trapped, torn between divine justice and political control. His mind fogged.

“Excuse me,” he said. He vomited in the bathroom, unsure why, unwilling to explore it.

Returning, he was pale, weak, divided. They waited around the table.

“Bambino, this will make you feel better,” Franco said, handing him a glass of champagne.

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“Cheers to the Hawk who joins the Family,” said the elderly Genaro.
“Cheers!” they all said, and Lenel’s voice was barely heard. The sparkle in his eyes had disappeared.

The old man gestured to the bodyguard to put away the butcher’s knife they had been about to use to cut off his finger. It hadn’t been necessary. The Hawk had been tamed. He would obey the will of The Family.

“We need you to control it, capisci?” the old man said to Franco when Lenel left.

“Capisci.”

“Does Hawk know anything?” asked the old man.

“No.”

“Is the code safe?”

“Yes.”

“Did you review all the possibilities?”

“If you have doubts, why not change it?” Franco asked.

“I’m surprised you ask that, Franco. You seem like a bambino. Do you want to wait another twenty years? That’s how long it would take us to perform an operation like this, and coordinate everything again. In five months, we will crown the effort of our lives and our ancestors. The Great Family will remember us as the fathers of the new world,” said the old man.

“To make omelettes, you have to break eggs.” Franco said.

“And how else? But be careful! Now more than ever, we have to be careful. We don’t want the bambino to ruin everything. Capisci?”

“Capisci.”

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