"Lumley, Brian - Necroscope - The Lost Years Volume 1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

everything that had made her the light of Julio's life. To be back there on her couch, all exhausted,
with an old biddy of a sick-nurse sitting beside her - 'in attendance,' as it were - as at someone's
deathbed! What, Julietta? Perish the thought! As fof the old crow: Julio supposed he should
consider himself lucky to have obtained her services so reasonably. All thanks to the Francezcis,
for she was one of theirs.
But here they came even now, smiling up at him - at him! - as they mounted the marble staircase.
Such elegant ... such eligible men! Julio hastened to greet them at the head of the stairs, and usher
them to their table on the balcony ...
Almost exactly one hour earlier, Tony and Francesco Francezci had departed Le Manse Madonie in
the mountain heights over Cefalu en-route for Julio's and the supposed gourmet pleasures of the
cafe's 'cuisine.' The quality of Julio Sclafani's food was, ostensibly, the sole reason for the
Francezcis' weekly visit to the crumbling, by no means decadent but decidedly decayed city.
Ostensibly, yes.

But in fact the brothers didn't much care for the food at Sclafani's, nor for the eating of common
fare anywhere else for that matter. They could just as easily dine at Le Manse Madonie, and do far
better than at Julio's, without the bother of having to get there. For at the Manse the brothers had
their own servants, their own cooks, their own ... people.
And so as Mario, their chauffeur, had driven the brothers down the often precipitous, dusty hairpin
track from the Manse to the potholed 'road' that joins Petralia in the south to the spa town of
Termini Imerese on the coast - where according to legend the buried Cyclops 'pisses in the baths of
men, to warm them' - so Francesco had turned his mind and memory to the real reason for their
interest in Sclafani's piddling cafe: the fat man's daughter, Julietta. Francesco's interest, anyway ...
It had been six weeks ago to the day. The brothers had been in Palermo to attend a meeting of the
Dons: the heads of the most powerful Families in the world, with the possible exception of certain
branches of European Royalty and nobility, and other so called 'leaders of men' or business,
politicians and industrialists mainly, in the United States of America and elsewhere. Except there's
power, and there's power. That of the Francezcis was landed and gilt-edged ... and ancient, and
evil.
It lay in the earth (in territory, or real estate); in the wealth they'd been heir to for oh-so-many,
many years, plus the additional wealth which the principal and their unique talents had accumulated
and augmented; and not least in those peculiar talents themselves.
For in fact the Francezcis were advisers. Advisers to the Mafia, still the main force and power-base
in Italy and Sicily; and through the Mafia advisers to the CIA, the KGB, and others of the same ilk;
and through them advisers to those governments which allegedly 'controlled' them. And because
their advice was invariably good, invariably valuable, they were revered as Dons of Dons, as every
Francezci before them. But to actually speak of them in such a connection ... that would be quite
unpardonable. It was understandable; their social standing ...
As to that last: they had the reputations of the gentlest of gentlemen! Their presence had been
requested - even fought over - for every major social event on the island for the last fifteen years,
ever since they came into their inheritance and possession of Le Manse Madonie. And their
bloodline: there had been Francezci Brothers for as long as men could remember. The family was
noted for its male twins, also for a line that went back into the dimmest mists of history - and into
some of the darkest. But that last was for the brothers alone to know.
Thus the immemorial and ongoing connection of the Francezcis with certain of the island's (and
indeed the world's) less savoury elements was unsuspected; or if it was it wasn't mentioned in polite
circles. Yet in their role of freelance intelligence agents for the Mob or mobs - as advisers in the
field of international crime, various kinds of espionage, and terrorism - the Francezcis were an
unparalleled success story. Where or how they gained their intelligence in these diverse yet
connected fields: that, too, was for the brothers alone to know, and for others to guess at. But to the