The Luciano family’s executive meeting took place in a luxurious conference room, and everything started off smoothly. As don of the family, Vito Luciano was the host and sat at the head of the table. The remaining heads of family sat on either side in order of rank from one end to the next.
To the right of the white-haired don was his number two, an elegant man with slicked-back hair whose tuxedo complemented his natural grace. He was Vito’s own son and next in line to be don—Alessio Luciano.
Finocchio, who sat at Vito’s left and directly across from Alessio, was the organization’s number three. He was originally their number five, but when the Gambino family lost its boss and was brought under Finocchio’s control, the mad clown was promoted.
The man sitting diagonally right from Finocchio, then, was the former number three—now its number four—and he was none too happy at having his position usurped. He glared at Finocchio, his face contorted in hatred. He went by the name Durinn Hammerhead, and he was the only dwarf on the executive board. Like all dwarves, Durinn was a little mountain of muscle with a shaved head and a glorious beard.
Durinn had once been Finocchio’s superior—a big brother, essentially. When the young Finocchio was just a street urchin picked up by a second-tier organization under the Luciano family umbrella, Durinn was already a well-known lieutenant.
The two of them were on bad terms at first. As a rookie, Finocchio had it unreasonably rough. Beatings were a daily occurrence, and because the Luciano family had a host of enemy organizations as rivals at the time, Finocchio was forced into what were essentially suicide missions.
However, much to Durinn’s chagrin, these missions caused Finocchio’s renown to explode over a short period of time. He was the kind of gangster to whom even the heads of family tipped their hats. It was around this time that Finocchio became known as the mad clown. Things came to a head when a particular boss was caught up in a scandal, and Finocchio was sent in by the don himself for the man’s head. Murdering a superior was not something taken lightly in the gangster world, but Finocchio did as he was told, thereby winning the trust of the Luciano board.
Unsurprisingly, Finocchio’s path had earned him more than his fair share of enemies, and at the top of that list was his former superior, Durinn. When Finocchio killed Durinn’s father, the dwarf swore revenge.
However, with the greater Luciano family watching over Finocchio, Durinn was unable to launch a direct attack. His desire for revenge never waned, and he was known to fly into a rage when drinking with his own gang, declaring openly that he would kill the mad clown. But it was not just the protection of the Luciano family that kept the dwarf in place—at the time, it had also been the pride he took in being of higher rank.
Now that their positions were reversed, Durinn’s rage was a dark and murky swamp, one that grew deeper with each passing day. He conspired with others on the board who disliked the clown, and they formed an anti-Finocchio alliance.
Finocchio, meanwhile, could only shake his head and laugh at Durinn’s foolish schemes. Whatever the dwarf tried now didn’t matter; it was already too late. In Finocchio’s eyes, if the dwarf believed in his ability to turn the tables just because he had made a few allies, he might as well believe in the existence of fairies.
Durinn’s alliances were hardly toothless, but the danger was most prevalent when Finocchio was alone. Yet now the mad clown had Noel Stollen on his side.
It had been decades since the Luciano family had become the biggest organization in the empire’s underworld, and it had weakened in the long years of peace. No matter how many executives came together in collusion, their forces could not touch Finocchio so long as he had an aggressive, militaristic clan at his side—and a regalia member to boot.
The other board members didn’t stand a chance, and it was because the odds were skewed so far in his favor that Finocchio hadn’t wanted Noel’s support. Such a strong ally made victory a simple affair, but how much value was there in an easy win? Finocchio had no desire for a victory unearned, and he knew he should have refused Noel’s help. Knowing he couldn’t had left him cursing the weakness of his heart, which was oh-so-easily swayed.
“Let us begin,” said Vito.
Alessio nodded and scanned the faces of the participants. “If everyone’s content to start, we’ll be launching right into the agenda,” he said in a clear, dignified voice.
The don’s son had been made to study royal etiquette since his youth, and he had been raised as the family’s successor. There was no doubt that he was suitable for the job. He was around the same age as Finocchio, but unlike the mad clown—who had clawed his way up from the streets—Alessio was a born ruler. It was his duty to lead and command, and his path was essentially laid out for him.
Finocchio’s heart leaped and danced at the thought of pitting his own power against that of Alessio’s, yet he had put aside his competitive nature and chosen the path of the man he loved.
“If you don’t mind, Alessio, may I have a moment?” asked Finocchio.
A curtain of suspicion fell across Alessio’s face. “What is it? Something to discuss?”
“Indeed. Quite the topic, in fact! Most important,” said Finocchio, turning to Vito. “Boss, I would like to humbly ask that you retire from your seat at the head of the family and give it to me, Finocchio Barzini.”
For a brief second, the conference room seemed to freeze completely. Then it erupted into panic at the realization that the organization’s number three had unabashedly asked for the number one spot. Amid the confusion and uproar, Vito gaped at Finocchio.
“I assume you have good reason?” he asked.
Finocchio straightened up in his chair. “Yes, and it’s simple. You are already seventy-seven years old. Everyone knows you are still active and an incomparable sage, but it is true that your strength as leader has weakened since your peak. This is what allowed Albert Gambino’s rebellious activities to continue.”
Though Vito had been the one to make the final decision regarding Albert’s purge, the man’s fate had been a long time coming. The organization had faced much in the way of losses by leaving Albert unchecked for so long. Anyone close to Vito knew the truth: the don had been so caught up in his loyalty to the Gambino family’s past leader that he had been unable to make the cold, calculated decision that was necessary.
“I know you never would have let such a fool run rampant back when I first joined the family,” said Finocchio, “but there is still time for things to end as they should. Now is the time for you to step down of your own volition to mark the end of an illustrious career.”
“And you’re saying that when I’m gone, you’ll take the reins?”
Finocchio nodded, resolute. “I am fully confident that I am most suitable.”
A challenging grin grew upon Vito’s face as he heard the certainty in Finocchio’s voice. “Ah, a bold declaration,” he said. “I’d expect nothing less from the mad clown.”
“Well, you were the one who taught me that ‘the character maketh the man.’”
Vito laughed heartily. “That I did. And you have been quite the character since you started with us.”
The don continued to bellow with laughter, then sat back in his chair. He looked out at the executives with a satisfied smile.
“Finocchio speaks the truth. I am old, and my senility has caused you grief. The weight of our family name grows too heavy for my shoulders. It is high time for a change.”
The table broke into hushed discussion the very moment the boss agreed to retire. Nobody knew what was going to happen. Would Finocchio really become the next boss? Everyone in the room was gawking and reeling at the turn of events, but Alessio alone remained calm. He seemed content to watch things unfold. Durinn, on the other hand, stood from his chair, no longer able to contain his rage.