Luzo: Reign of a Mafia Don Read Free

the Prefecture of Police as cumbersome trucks carrying militia and automobiles rolled by. In the sunshine Paris had never looked more beautiful.
    The time was a quarter to nine and the morning is ripe for exploration.
    Weeks ago the air had crackled and hissed with bullets all over the square. The French light tanks had stomped out the German garrison right there across the Seine. Germans had been shooting from Notre Dame and nearby homes he was told by his teacher. Today he wanted to visit the area and see where on the 25 th of August the occupying German garrison surrendered to the French Forces. The Liberation of Paris started with an uprising by the French Resistance against the Germans. On the 24 th the Forces Françaises de L'intérieur or the FFI, as they were known had received reinforcements from the Free French Army of Liberation and the U.S. Third Army led by General Patton.
    Maybe, his love of intrigue stemmed from what his father said about Signora Baker being a brave woman that also sparked a boy’s curiosity about his mama.
    “Tua madre has many interests giovani. I am amazed she remains abreast of the happenings in wartime and the French. Apparently sheet music holds more than notes for a singer. Vive la France and Liberation,” his father said and then stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “That is enough for the evening Salvatore, clean up for dinner, capisce?”
    Salvatore c losed the leather journal, stood and nodded respectfully. Sergio Giacanti had requirements that etiquette is practiced at home and in business. “Civility is for gentlemen; animals have yet to understand the necessity of such practices, capisce?” his father would mutter on occasion after dealing with a boorish person.
    Salvatore stood viewing the Seine and looked up at the formidable towers of Notre Dame. He pictured himself as a soldati fighting for the freedom of his people. But then he smiled because he was proud to know women like his mama and the starlet helped in a small way to end the invasion on French soil. The expatriate singer used sheet music to s muggle secret military reports into Portugal from France by writing these messages in invisible ink. His mama helped to fund the resistance with her husband’s money and guns. He read her diary. The curiosity won over and he could not resist when he saw it lying on her bureau when she’d gone out with his papa. After reading her confession he tore out the page to burn, but then he decided to toss the entire book in the fireplace. For some reason he had a bad feeling that one day the book might fall into the wrong hands. No, he would not want his mama imprisoned or worse. Let her believe it was lost. That was best. Papa had always said famiglia must protect their own. In fact, papa had spoken a great deal about family, Salvatore thought. He often overheard his papa conclude the meeting of the secret group in the cellar by saying, “Death to the enemies of my famiglia.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
     
     
    “Where have you been?” The teacher asked Salvatore when he entered the spacious châtelet in the Latin Quarter. 
    “To visit Notre Dame Monsieur,” Salvatore answered. He held fast to his books. He was eye-level with his teacher and wondered if the man had shrunk in the passing days. “ You have taught lessons which inspire my curiosity. Does not visiting these places constitute schooling?”
    “Oui,” the educator acknowledged and then gestured for the tall youth to find residence on the sofa. “Please giovani Giacanti, sit.”
    The teacher’s wife appeared. She brought refreshments.
    Salvatore noticed the sadness in her eyes. He placed the books on the sofa. His posture was erect, similar to a disciplined infantry man. The teacher’s wife glanced almost pleadingly at her husband which did not go unnoticed by the observant youth. “Is everything all right, Monsieur?” Salvatore asked as nervousness began to climb from his fingers to his