Page 166 of Vita Mia

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Two Weeks Later

Zanzibar, Tanzania - Africa

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“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seatbelt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Thank you.”

Carlo felt a tap on his shoulder. He woke from his slouched position next to the window to see a very beautiful woman smiling at him. Even under the coffee colored lenses of his sunglasses, her smile was bright and enticing.

“Sir, we are landing, please put your seat up,” she said in her deep East African accent.

He nodded. He’d taken two flights so far and this was the last to Zanzibar. He traveled in a smaller aircraft, he was the only non-African passenger on the plane. Carlo fastened his seatbelt and stared out of his window at the azure blue waves of the sea.

“Flight attendants prepare for landing,”the captain’s voice came over.

“Visiting friends?” an older man said at his side.

Carlo cut him a sideways glance.Should he consider Abedi a friend?He wasn’t sure what he’d call her. But friend was not the word that came to mind.

“Welcome to Zanzibar. You’ll enjoy it,” the old man said and smiled.

Carlo didn’t bother to answer. His leaving had put his kids in a state. Jewel cried in his arms at the airport. Jilly questioned him over and over about the danger of leaving America. Rolando had to be talked too when he demanded to go with him to protect him. And Shae could barely kiss him goodbye, she trembled with tears and fear. He hugged them all and promised that no matter how long it took for him to deal with the business he had, he’d return home. And he intended to keep that promise. The biggest fear for him was his passport. But his new identity held solid so far. Now he was returning to his demons and he worried about the things he had left and forgotten when he found happiness with Shae.

The plane bounced in the landing and sped along the runway before slowing to a stop. Carlo unfastened his seatbelt. He checked the inside blazer pocket for his passport and then his watch. Dominic had made all the arrangements for him. Still he felt naked without at least a gun to carry at his side.

The old people disembarked the plane with women and children before he was able to ease out of his seat. He walked down the aisle toward two women who smiled a bit friendly at him. He gave them a sly smile in return. After all he was still a man.

All the luggage he needed was in his hand. He traveled light. The carryon bag had to go through customs and his passport had to be inspected. It all went without incident. He was Lucio Romano and no one questioned it. When he walked out of the front of the airport he saw many taxies and travelers. He wasn’t sure who would greet him next, but he knew they would make themselves known.

“Hujambo, Lucio Romano?” a man said to the left of him.

Carlo glanced over to a dark-skinned man in a pressed white shirt and khaki pants. He nodded that he was the person to greet. The man nodded in return and reached for his bag. Carlo let him handle it and followed him to the awaiting car.

“Kuwakaribisha kwa Zanzibar,” the driver said welcome. “I’ve been told to take you to Stone Town. It’s where you will be staying.”

Carlo glanced out the window of the tiny cab. Tanzania was an interesting mix of modern society and ancient times. Before his eyes was a synthesis of Swahilian culture mixed with Indian, Arab and European influences. The green lush land, short palm trees and, ground-level houses shared the same space with ancient structures that dated back to centuries of history.

During the drive to Stone Town Carlo focused more on the beaches instead of architecture. He remembered Marietta. How shocked she was to find beauty in Africa and how little she saw of it during their stay. He remembered her running toward Lorenzo. He remembered the moment he was supposed to put a bullet in his best friend and failed. He’d never forget that day.

Soon he understood why he was cramped into a tiny cab. The heart of the village was a maze of tight alleyways between buildings and most of them were too narrow for cars. His driver parked and turned in his seat to address him. He told him directions that would send him up the alley to the hostel he’d be staying in. He nodded his thanks, retrieved his bag and walked the cobblestone street. He passed a few people who stopped to stare at him with mild interest as to why he was in their presence. Apparently, this was not an area tourists frequented. Or maybe they knew exactly who he was.

Carlo kept his head low and checked for any signs of being followed. There were many places and faces he passed along the way. And then he looked up at the sign before him. He smiled. He recognized the name.

Carlo walked in and was greeted by two women. Both wore traditional Muslim head scarfs covering their hair. Only one spoke, the other lowered her gaze.

“Are youMacellaio?” she asked.

He nodded his answer. “She’s waiting for you.”

Carlo went past the ladies and the stairwell, that led up to rooms. He didn’t need an escort. At the back of the hostel was a door and it was open. He could smell the frankincense from the moment he entered the building.

Abedi was laid out on a cherry red chaise chair smoking from her opium pipe. She wore no top. It was a sarong that she secured around her waist. Her gaze slipped over to him.

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