Rome in the middle of the night and booked at the Regina

Coeli, the notorious Queen of Heaven prison. He was put in a small cell that contained barred windows, a radiator, a cot,

and a toilet with no seat. It was outrageous! It was an indignity beyond imagining.

In the beginning Carmine was sure that Tommaso Contorno,

his attorney, would have him released immediately.

When Contorno came to the visiting room of the prison,

Carmine stormed at him. "They've closed down my whorehouses and drug operation and they know everything about my money-laundering operation. Somebody is talking. Find out who it is and bring me his tongue."

"Do not worry, Padrone," Contorno assured him. "We will find him."

His optimism turned out to be unfounded. In order to protect their witnesses, the state adamantly refused to reveal their names until the trial began.

Two days before the trial, Angelo Carmine and the other members of the Mafia were transferred to Rebibbia Prigione, a maximum-security prison twelve miles outside Rome. A nearby courtroom had been fortified like a bunker. One hundred sixty accused Mafia members were brought in through an underground tunnel wearing handcuffs and chains and put in thirty cages made of steel and bullet-proof glass. Armed guards surrounded the inside and outside of the courtroom and spectators were searched before they were allowed to enter.

When Angelo Carmine was marched into the courtroom, his heart leaped for joy, for the judge on the bench was Giovanni

Buscetta, a man who had been on the Carmine payroll for the last fifteen years and who was a frequent guest at the

Carmine house. Carmine knew at last that justice was going to be served.

The trial began. Angelo Carmine looked to omerta, the

Sicilian code of silence, to protect him. But to his astonishment, the chief witness for the state turned out to be none other than Benito Patas, the bodyguard. Patas had been with the Carmine family so long and had been so trusted that he had been allowed to be in the room at meetings where confidential matters of business were discussed, and since that business consisted of every illegal activity on the police statutes, Patas had been privy to a great deal of information. When the police apprehended Patas minutes after he had cold-bloodedly murdered and mutilated the new boyfriend of his mistress, they had threatened him with life imprisonment, and Patas had reluctantly agreed to help the police build their case against Carmine in exchange for a lighter sentence. Now, to Angelo Carmine's horrified disbelief, he sat in the courtroom and listened to Patas reveal the innermost secrets of the Carmine fiefdom.

Lucia was also in the courtroom every day listening to the man who had been her lover destroy her father and her brothers.

Benito Patas's testimony opened the floodgates. Once the commissioner's investigation began, dozens of victims came forward to tell their stories of what Angelo Carmine and his hoodlums had done to them. The Mafia had muscled into their businesses, blackmailed them, forced them into prostitution,

murdered or crippled their loved ones, sold drugs to their children. The list of horrors was endless.

Even more damaging was the testimony of the pentiti, the repentant members of the Mafia who decided to talk.

Lucia was allowed to visit her father in prison.

He greeted her cheerfully. He hugged her and whispered,

"Do not worry, faccia d'angelo. Judge Giovanni Buscetta is my secret ace in the hole. He knows all the tricks of the law.

He will use them to see that your brothers and I are acquitted."

Angelo Carmine proved to be a poor prophet.

The public had been outraged by the excesses of the Mafia,

and when the trial finally ended, Judge Giovanni Buscetta, an astute political animal, sentenced the other Mafia members to long prison terms and Angelo Carmine and his two sons to the maximum permitted by Italian law—life imprisonment, a mandatory sentence of twenty-eight years.

For Angelo Carmine it was a death sentence.

All of Italy cheered. Justice had finally triumphed. But to Lucia, it was a nightmare beyond imagining. The three men she loved most in the world were being sent to hell.

Once again, Lucia was allowed to visit her father in his cell. The overnight change in him was heartbreaking. In the space of a few days, he had become an old man. His figure had shrunk and his healthy, ruddy complexion had turned sallow.

"They have betrayed me," he moaned. "They have all betrayed me. Judge Giovanni Buscetta—I owned him, Lucia! I made him a wealthy man, and he did this terrible thing to me.

And Patas. I was like a father to him. What has the world come to? Whatever happened to honor? They are Sicilians, like me."

Lucia took her father's hand in hers and said in a low voice, "I am Sicilian too, Papa. You shall have your vengeance. I swear it to you, on my life."

"My life is over," her father told her. "But yours is still ahead of you. I have a numbered account in Zurich. The

Bank Leu. There is more money there than you could spend in ten lifetimes." He whispered a number in her ear. "Leave cursed Italy. Take the money and enjoy yourself."

Lucia held him close. "Papa—"

"If you ever need a friend, you can trust Dominic Durell.

We are like brothers. He has a home in France at Beziers,

near the Spanish border."

"I'll remember."

"Promise me you'll leave Italy."

"Yes, Papa. But there is something I have to do first."

Having a burning desire for revenge was one thing; figuring out a way to get it was another. She was alone, and it was not going to be easy. Lucia thought of the Italian expression Rubare il mestiere—You steal their profession. I must think the way they do.

A few weeks after her father and brothers had started serving their prison sentences, Lucia Carmine appeared at the home of Judge Giovanni Buscetta. The judge himself opened the door.

He stared at Lucia in surprise. He had seen her often when he was a guest at the Carmine home, but they had never had much to say to each other.

"Lucia Carmine! What are you doing here? You shouldn't have—"

"I have come to thank you, Your Honor."

He studied her suspiciously. "Thank me for what?"

Lucia looked deep into his eyes. "For exposing my father and brothers for what they were. I was an innocent, living in that house of horrors. I had no idea what monsters—" She broke down and began to sob.

The judge stood there uncertainly, then patted her shoulder. "There, there. Come in and have some tea."

"Th—thank you."

When they were seated in the living room, Judge Buscetta said, "I had no idea that you felt that way about your father. I had the impression that you were very close."

"Only because I had no idea what he and my brothers were really like. When I found out—" She shuddered. "You don't know what it was like. I wanted to get away, but there was no escape for me."

"I didn't understand." He patted her hand. "I'm afraid I misjudged you, my dear."

"I was terrified of him." Her voice was filled with passion.

Judge Buscetta noticed, not for the first time, what a beautiful young woman Lucia was. She was wearing a simple black dress that revealed the outlines of her lush body. He looked at her rounded breasts and could not help observing how grown up she had become.

It would be amusing, Buscetta thought, to sleep with the daughter of Angelo Carmine. He's powerless to hurt me now.

The old bastard thought he owned me, but I was too smart for him. Lucia is probably a virgin. I could teach her a few things in bed.

An elderly housekeeper brought in a tray of tea and a platter of cookies. She put them on a table. "Shall I pour?"

"Let me," Lucia said. Her voice was warm and filled with promise.