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    The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4)
    The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4)
    The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4)
    Ebook346 pages5 hours

    The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4)

    By Mike Wells

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    The Cat always lands on his feet! After being kicked over a cliff into the Mediterranean Sea, Italian criminal mastermind Giorgio Cattoretti has lost everything...including his left eye. Join Cattoretti on his quest for revenge as he hides out on the island of Cyprus, avoids the Russian mafia, and painstakingly plans the biggest art crime in history. The Cat is back!

    Note: This book was previously titled: Lust, Money & Murder, Book 4 - Cattoretti's Return

    "Another great read from this author who is the master of cliff hangers. Lots of interesting plot points and surprises that shock and amaze the reader." - Sandy Penny

    "The storyline picks back up where Lust, Money & Murder left off, with intrigue and mystery. Absolutely spellbinding, Wells has brought another can't put down to the library shelves" - Sheena West Jennings

    "Mike Wells is the consummate writer who can create a character that his readers love to hate. Once you begin one of his books there is no turning back. This is another page turner of the first degree." - Janice Spina

    "This novel will keep your adrenaline pumping and you stalking Mike Wells' Website for when the next Lust, Money & Murder book is coming so you can find out what happens next. If you love to hate a bad guy, do not miss out on this fantastic read!" - Christine Raggio

    "Wells does it again, grabbing you in the first couple of pages and holding you tight through the brilliant plot twists until you are left lying awake in bed at 2am cursing that you have to be up soon for work, but yet still wanting more!" - Dax M Tucker

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMike Wells
    Release dateMay 17, 2014
    ISBN9781310189807
    The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4)
    Author

    Mike Wells

    Mike Wells is an author of both walking and cycling guides. He has been walking long-distance footpaths for 25 years, after a holiday in New Zealand gave him the long-distance walking bug. Within a few years, he had walked the major British trails, enjoying their range of terrain from straightforward downland tracks through to upland paths and challenging mountain routes. He then ventured into France, walking sections of the Grande Randonnee network (including the GR5 through the Alps from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean), and Italy to explore the Dolomites Alta Via routes. Further afield, he has walked in Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Norway and Patagonia. Mike has also been a keen cyclist for over 20 years. After completing various UK Sustrans routes, such as Lon Las Cymru in Wales and the C2C route across northern England, he then moved on to cycling long-distance routes in continental Europe and beyond. These include cycling both the Camino and Ruta de la Plata to Santiago de la Compostela, a traverse of Cuba from end to end, a circumnavigation of Iceland and a trip across Lapland to the North Cape. He has written a series of cycling guides for Cicerone following the great rivers of Europe.

    Read more from Mike Wells

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    Reviews for The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4)

    4/5

    22 ratings8 reviews

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    • 4/5
      The author didn't promise too much. This novel was really "unputdownable".
      With lots of twists and interesting turns of events, such a well developed main character -- she almost felt alive. This makes the reader always ask for more and more and after finishing book 1, yes, I want more and I can't wait to read more about Elaine. I really hope she'll end up with Nick and they'll be fine. All in all, I enjoyed this novel a lot.
    • 4/5
      This book does a great job of introducing you to the series. It leaves you hanging and waiting for the next book. I recommend this book to anyone that enjoys reading stories that the plot thickens as you read. The author does a great job of pulling you into his world and acquainting you with his characters. He builds a bond with this first book and it is a memorable storyline. I enjoyed the author's writing style and appreciated the effort he put into creating something fun for the reader. I only gave it four stars, as I felt it was shorter than I would have liked. However, that's not really all that bad when you can leave a reader wanting more. It's a good book and I don't think you'd be disappointed.
      Laney Smith
      ~Author
    • 4/5
      This is the first in a series and as such I was disappointed that it was not a stand alone novel. You are in effect getting the first part for free and if you want the rest you need to buy the set. I assume like some eighteenth century novel, it is in three parts, but not as long, another Clarissa would be commercial suicide.The Prologue sets up the counterfeit storyline and proves that where money is concerned, people will go to any lengths. In contrast a father's love for his daughter, will illicit the same results. Going to any lengths to provide for her. From an ethical standpoint, we would condemn both, although the reader would be more sympathetic to the latter.Elaine's 'modelling' career shows her naivete and the way people can be taken in by the promise of a lucrative career. The writer demonstrates this through the shambolic nature of the agency, requiring ever more qualifications and sample photos.These chapters set up the motive for joining the secret service. The years of college are skipped over quite quickly, which raises the question why so much attention is given to the secret service training. How does it move the plot of the novel forward? It could be to show a diversity of knowledge and expertise, in addition to her tenacity and determination when dealing with difficult people.The sexual harassment at her first job, gives her a reason to move, but would a professional act in such a manner? In the UK sexual harassment was perhaps more prominent in the seventies, than in the power dressing environment of the eighties. Was America so different during this decade?The second job is based on her skills at detecting counterfeit bills. In one sense this is more believable. Every employee hopes that their skills will be recognised and they will be placed in a job that utilises their abilities. The fact that she falls for her boss, is again understandable. Their developing relationship and then the question over his integrity, sets up the suspense for the next book, but does not give a satisfactory conclusion for this book.Mike is a best selling author, his style is easy to read and the 'James Bond' type subject matter will undoubtedly appeal to a lot of people, due to the escapism. I have not had a lot of experience with this type of genre and it is very difficult to judge. It doesn't have the kind of imagery, or wider social themes that characterise a great, or classic novel. A charge made against Ian Flaming, by his wife, but it is very readable.
    • 5/5
      This is a story that combines several genres in a very satisfying way. It's a "coming of age"/goverment agent/romantic suspense, that keeps on giving . One warning, this is the first book in a series, and ends in a wicked cliffhanger ! Loved it!
    • 3/5
      Lust, Money & Murder is really a teaser. It is part one of three parts that make up a complete book; therefore, this volume is short and didn’t take long to read.The author, Mike Wells, grabs the reader’s attention in the prologue, but then there is no connection with the rest of the story; perhaps that comes later. Some things are somewhat contradictory, such as this: Elaine looked down at it, unable to move. She abruptly rose. Later in the story, the man Elaine is falling for is somewhat cool toward her but then …. well, that changes abruptly, too.Lust, Money & Murder takes the reader through Elaine’s life from a little girl doted on by her father, to a coming-of-age young woman. She becomes super focused, though, on her libido, and does some crazy things for a crazier reason. Later, she applies herself to her future goal and becomes highly regarded in her chosen field – chosen for the purpose of revenge – through which she meets the rather secretive man she thinks she can truly love.Even though there are sections that could have been delved into more to extend the read, and the story could have benefited from more editing and development, Lust, Money & Murder is a good start. The groaner is the last line, which ended up being a cliffhanger mid-scene. (If you are tempted to get part one, please don’t spoil it for yourself by reading the end first!) The continuation is in book two, and since there are three parts it is likely the same thing happens at the end of book two as a lead-in to book three. Apparently, together they make one complete novel.If you enjoy reading suspense, thrillers, espionage, you may enjoy Lust, Money & Murder, book 1, by Mike Wells, and want to purchase books 2 and 3 to continue the story.
    • 4/5
      An exciting, fast paced thriller that I was unable to put down!Synopsis:Elaine and her father live in a run down area of Pittsburgh. Despite not having a lot of money Elaine’s father does everything he can in order to send his daughter to a private school, and ensure she receives the best possible education. After spending two thousand dollars on modelling training from the Rising Star Agency, Elaine realises she has been the victim of a scam, threatening the sleazy owners of the company, they return her money. Feeling elated at having obtained the money she returns home and gives the money to her father. Days later the police arrest Elaine’s father for possession of counterfeit money. This ultimately rockets Elaine on to a career path to the secret service’s counterfeit money division, in order to obtain justice for her innocent father, but making it in the secret service is tough, and how does she know who she can trust?Review:Wow what a cliffhanger! This book is a wild ride, and you’ll be hooked from the first few pages. I sat down to read a few chapters before bed and before I knew it I was burning the midnight oil and the book was finished. It’s very fast paced and leaves you with such a shock ending, you’ll be desperate to buy books two and three.Elaine is a great character, she’s likeable she works hard and she is portrayed in a very realistic manner. I often think when you read thriller novels with secret service or FBI agencies they come off a bit over the top with James Bond car scenes and explosions. Lust does not follow that pattern, it’s exciting and fun but it doesn’t feel ridiculous, it’s extremely believable and Wells writes in a very detailed manner – I know very little about counterfeit money but everything seemed very well researched and informative – without being overly technical or dull.It’s a great little mystery that will keep you guessing, and I have seen many people compare this to the work of Sidney Sheldon. It holds all the key ingredients for a wonderful story, a great heroine, a touch of romance, a splash of mystery and all the interesting little tidbits in between. Lust is currently free via Amazon as well as the author’s website, so if you’re interested head over to Mike Wells’s Blog for more info, I promise you won’t be disappointed!
    • 4/5
      I found this book to be quick paced but engaging. The writing is clear and concise. Author Mike Wells manages to put a lot of story into a short novella without making you feel as if depth is lacking. Elaine’s father was a hard working man who wanted to give her the world but he was by no means perfect. This tale is always at its darkest when expressing the actions which her father thought were necessary. This was a poor man who wanted to give his daughter an expensive education and basically did this by whatever means necessary. One frustrating aspect of the story is Elaine’s naivete, especially as it relates to her father’s actions. When the story begins and starts to develop the reader almost expects the main character to be a streetwise, no nonsense girl. But, she remains innocent and naïve into her college years. This characteristic results in her ending up in a compromising position. And this is where her life begins to unravel. Ultimately, this story is about a young girl who is taken advantage of, has a tragic loss, and then perseveres.

      When Elaine reaches adulthood and heads off to college the reader becomes more in tune with her personality through a series of fumbling sexual encounters. We have our first laugh out loud moment when she shares her experience with her roommate. After college Elaine is selected to become a Secret Service agent and we follow her on her difficult journey through their rigorous academy. There is a hint that we may now see some action when she has to take a martial arts exam however the action in that scenario is anti-climactic. I would say that my one complaint about the story is the lack of action. I can say from personal experience that the life of a law enforcement officer is much more mundane in real life then portrayed in the movies or on TV. But, since this novella is a fictionalized version of what law enforcement officers do I was hoping for some edge of your seat thrills. Her first assignment goes horribly wrong and she is transferred to Bulgaria where things heat up. It’s on this assignment that she really gets to do her job and show off her talents. This is also where she meets a fellow Secret Service Agent named Nick who she proceeds to fall madly in love with.

      I did enjoy this story overall. Elaine is a smart girl who you come to care about. Her journey is easy to relate to and you want to know what will happen to her in the future. bookie-monster.com
    • 5/5
      This is a fantastic mystery! It delves into a world of secret service agents and counterfeit money that normally could get a bit boring but here I felt glued to every page. I even feel like I might have learned a thing or two. Well researched. The main character is feisty and strong and I loved following her in this story. Definitely in anticipation for the sequel!

    Book preview

    The Russian Trilogy, Book 1 (Lust, Money & Murder #4) - Mike Wells

    1

    Kyrenia, The Island of Cyprus

    T ake off your clothes, the man with the black eye patch said.

    Lexy stood across the room from him, frozen. The words had caught her completely by surprise. Did he just say what she thought he’d said?

    Take off your clothes, he repeated.

    Lexy swallowed and glanced out the living room window, at the breathtaking view of the Mediterranean Sea. The man had just finished giving her a tour of his luxurious villa, on the northern side of Cyprus. This was the final interview for a cook and housekeeper position that he had advertised.

    She didn’t even know his name. He had to be more than twice her age, 50 or 55 years old. He walked with a limp, but otherwise seemed in perfect shape—tanned, trim and strong. His black, salt-and-pepper hair was combed straight back. A faint scar snaked its way down his jaw line. He was immaculately dressed, and had a handsome face, or at least he seemed to....it was hard to know for sure because of the eye patch.

    He was just standing there, his hands clasped behind his back.

    Watching her, his one brown eye unblinking.

    Waiting.

    Something about the eye patch excited her.

    With a trembling hand, she reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse. The man radiated power and authority—there was a kind of animal magnetism about him. Lexy felt she had no choice but to do what he told her to. Anyway, he could look—there was no harm in that, was there?

    No man had ever seen her completely naked before, and the thought of him seeing her fully nude made her heart pound.

    Lexy’s trembling fingers reached the bottom button and slowly removed her blouse, revealing her bra and deep cleavage. She was one hundred percent Cypriot Greek, tall and curvy, with long legs and a full, enviable figure. A thick mane of wild, curly black hair spilled down onto her shoulders.

    She shyly dropped the blouse on the sofa.

    The brassiere, too, he said, his voice even.

    Lexy was having second thoughts now—she didn’t understand this. She wanted to ask him why she had to reveal herself to him in this way, didn’t see what it had to do with the live in cook and housekeeper job she had applied for. He had interviewed fifteen girls and she was his top choice, or so he’d told her.

    Yet, she could not seem to stop herself from following his commands. Even though the two of them were alone in his huge villa. Strangely, she had not seen another soul on the expansive property—no gardener, security guard, or anyone else. But for some reason she was not afraid of him.

    Gazing steadily at him, she reached behind her back and unclipped the bra. Her supple breasts spilled out and bounced slightly.

    His one visible eye took them in, his face revealing nothing.

    The skirt, he said, motioning.

    I... Nothing else came out of Lexy’s mouth. She slowly unzipped the garment and stepped out of it, also dropping it on the sofa. She was wearing medium high pumps and a skimpy pink thong that left little to the imagination.

    The underwear.

    But—

    The underwear.

    Her heart thumping even harder, Lexy wriggled out of the thong and dropped it on the couch with the rest of her clothes.

    She stood before him as naked as the day she was born. Except for the high heels, of course.

    Turn around, he said, motioning.

    She hesitated only a second before doing as she was told, slowly turning in a circle, the heels softly clicking on the white tiled floor as she moved.

    Lexy could feel his one eye taking in her buttocks, the back of her thighs...her calves...her ankles.

    When she turned towards him again, he stood there a moment, then moved closer.

    Slowly raising his hands, he gently cupped both her breasts in his warm palms, letting them rest there, as if assessing their mass. He lightly rubbed his thumb across her nipples, which were becoming erect on their own accord.

    He released her breasts and clasped his hands behind his back again.

    You will cook for me, keep house for me, and satisfy me sexually as often as I want, however I want. He paused. The pay is ten thousand euros per month.

    Lexy blinked once. Ten thousand euros a month? Is that what he’d just told her?

    It was hard for her to believe she had heard him correctly, but his deep voice was loud and clear in the quiet room, the only other sound being the steady whoosh of the sea outside the window.

    She was so stunned by the sum of money he was offering that now she was almost unaware that she was standing stark naked in front of a total stranger. I...how long do I have to decide?

    Until you leave this room. He motioned to the archway that led in the direction of the front door. If you walk out without accepting my offer, I will take that as a ‘no,’ and I will offer the position to someone else.

    It took Lexy less than three minutes to make a decision.

    Both her mother and grandmother were ill, her brother was on drugs, and her father had drunk himself to death. She was the only responsible person in her family and the only one capable of making a living. Right now she was stuck in the village where she had been born—Episkope—taking care of her mother, who had been bedridden for years. Lexy was intelligent and had hoped to go to college and leave this desolate little island, but she supposed that it hadn’t been in the cards for her. But now? Anything seemed possible.

    Although, truth be told, it was the man himself that swayed her. His confidence and inner strength emanated from him in waves that were almost palpable.

    Lexy got dressed and he showed her to her quarters, which had also factored into her decision, though she would not admit it. The bedroom, which was right next to his, looked like something out of a Hollywood movie, spacious and elegantly furnished, with the same view of the sea that the living room afforded.

    There was also a walk-in closet.

    I took the liberty of providing you with a full wardrobe, her new employer said, sliding the door open.

    Lexy was stunned. It was packed with expensive designer clothing.

    Lexy pulled out one of the dresses and sneaked a look at the label: Givenchy. It was genuine, she could tell simply by the heavenly feel of the material.

    She turned back to him. I don’t ...how did you know my size? And how did you know I would accept?

    He smiled for the first time, the lines around the black eye patch crinkling slightly. I am an excellent judge of people.

    He stepped into the closet and pulled out one of the hangers. You’ll wear this today. It was one of those French maid outfits, with a black stretch-satin mini dress that laced up in the back, sheer black thigh high stockings, a black choker, and a white headband. There was a pair of black high heels to go with it.

    He stepped back out into the middle of the room and glanced at his watch. I have to run some errands this afternoon. You will begin work immediately. I will pay you on the last Friday of each month, and you can have the weekend to go visit your family. Otherwise, you will remain here at all times.

    Lexy just stood there, reeling. This was all happening so fast. I do not even know your name.

    He smiled again. I am Xavier. Xavier Dente. You may call me Xavier.

    With that, he turned and left her alone in the room.

    She looked back at the closet, then out across the terrace, at the sea, and then at the door he’d just walked through.

    You may call me Xavier. She had thought he looked Spanish or Portuguese and she had been right.

    He was incredibly rich and powerful, she thought. And sophisticated.

    In fact, Xavier was not Portuguese or Spanish, but Italian.

    His real name was Giorgio Cattoretti.

    Incredibly, only a few short weeks ago, he was barely surviving in the woods on the northwestern coast of Italy, eating slugs and berries, living like an animal.

    2

    Vernazza, Italy

    Two Months Earlier

    When Giorgio Cattoretti was kicked off the cliff, he blacked out. Some seconds later he found himself helplessly swirling around underwater, as if he were trapped inside of a gigantic washing machine.

    At first, he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

    The next thing he became aware of was pain. Pain in his left eye, and pain in his right shin. It was excruciating, unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life.

    And then his whole body was slammed against something hard.

    Rocks? He tried to fight his way through the churning water to the surface.

    Now he was beginning to remember...he was in the Mediterranean Sea...he had fallen from a cliff—no, he had been kicked over. Kicked over by Elaine Brogan, a Secret Service agent. He had tumbled head over heels through the air and had hit the water in a horizontal posture...the impact must have knocked him out.

    There was a terrible pain in his left eye and he could see nothing out of it. With his right eye he could see that blood was swirling out from his head. He reached up to try and put his hand over his injured eye, kicking and thrashing against the breakers, but another big wave crashed down on him, sending him tumbling underwater again, his injured leg slamming into the rocks.

    He finally managed to push his head above the surface long enough to take in a breath of air, catching a glimpse of the rocky northern Italian shoreline and dawn sky.

    Swim away from the shore, he thought dimly. Swim out to sea —it’s your only hope of surviving this.

    As he tried to fight the endless procession of breaking waves, he cupped his hand over his throbbing eye. Even in the churning saltwater he could smell and taste the coppery scent of blood as it escaped between his fingers. He suddenly remembered everything that had happened! Elaine Brogan had plunged a letter opener into his eye!

    He felt his body rising up in the crest of yet another wave. He frantically pulled his hand away from his eye and thrashed through the water for dear life.

    Swim, he told himself. If you don’t get away from these rocks, you’ll be bashed to pieces.

    Sometime later, Giorgio Cattoretti slowly regained consciousness again. This time he found himself on a small, rocky beach, face down in the sand. He half-remembered swimming for what seemed like hours on his back, being tossed about by the swells, staring up at the blue sky.

    It was mid-morning now. The Mediterranean sun was beating down on Giorgio’s bleeding, battered, exhausted body. Despite the pain he was in, the warmth on his back felt wonderful. He could hear the cry of seagulls overhead.

    He was alive.

    He finally found the strength to raise his head and spit the sand out of his mouth, and then coughed up some seawater. Nothing was visible with his left eye except blackness. He could feel his eyelid move up and down as he blinked, but there was no hint of light.

    When he tried to roll over, a spike of pain shot up through his shin and thigh that made him cry out.

    He was still wearing his sport coat and slacks, and they were ripped up and wet. He was barefoot—he had lost both his shoes and socks.

    Biting his lip so he wouldn’t scream again, he slowly pulled up his trouser leg...and he gasped at what he saw. His lower leg was swollen and bruised, bent at a slightly abnormal angle. It was broken, perhaps in several places.

    He forced himself to look away and take a quick inventory of the rest of his body. His arms, hands, feet, fingers... Other than the injuries to his eye and leg, he seemed intact. Then he noticed something else—every time he took a breath there was a sharp pain in his chest. A broken rib, he thought. He was in worse shape than the time he’d been raped and beaten at Attica Prison.

    But at least I’m alive, he thought.

    Despite the pain and all that he had been through, he told himself that he should rejoice.

    He turned his head, listening—a sound had caught his attention. Over the wind and the waves was the faint chop-chop-chop of a helicopter rotor.

    Giorgio suddenly sat up, wincing as he did so. He could not see the chopper...it must have been several miles away. Had he drifted north or south of Vernazza? He couldn’t tell. But the aircraft seemed to be slowly moving in his direction.

    The police were looking for him, of course.

    Bellowing in pain, he rose onto his hands and knees and crawled across the beach, dragging his injured leg behind him. He scratched and clawed his way across the rocky shoreline and up into the woods to the safety of the foliage.

    The first thing Giorgio did was attempt to straighten out his leg, but the pain was dreadful—every time he tried he almost passed out. He needed a splint. What he actually needed was a hospital, but of course that was out of the question. There was no doubt that every Italian law enforcement agency was after him, not to mention Interpol and the U.S. Secret Service. All the hospitals and clinics in this part of Italy had certainly been alerted. He would be identified and arrested instantly.

    He finally found a tree branch that he could use as a crutch, and he began slowly making his way up higher onto the steep, craggy hill, deeper into the foliage. His villa, and the cliff he had fallen from, was located in Vernazza, one of five villages that made up the Cinque de Terre, a lush wine growing and fishing region along the northwestern coast of Italy. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was now, perhaps somewhere between the villages of Corniglia and Manarola. The five little hamlets were only separated from each other by 4-5 miles, but the rugged, rocky coastline was more or less the same throughout the area. He knew that the sea current usually flowed in a northerly direction, but the wind was blowing hard from the south today, so there was really no telling where he had ended up.

    The helicopters kept searching throughout the day. One flew almost directly over him, but he was well-hidden under the trees. At times he heard the sound of powerboats, which he assumed were police vessels, also combing the waters for him.

    He continued to crawl higher up onto the hill. With his injured eye and broken leg, it was tough going.

    Just before nightfall, he was lucky enough to stumble upon a ravine where the locals from the nearest village dumped their hard-to-get-rid-of garbage. There were old couches with the stuffing sticking out of them, washing machines, as well as dozens of plastic bags packed with ordinary stinking trash, and other assorted household junk spilling down from the dirt road above.

    It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping. The dump proved to be a godsend for Giorgio. Picking carefully through the trash, he found a ratty pair of sneakers, a stretched-out hoodie, and a down parka with feathers leaking from the fabric.

    He also found a length of clothes line and a decaying table and chairs. He managed to break up the wooden furniture until he had two slats of the right length that he could use as a splint. He used the clothes line to bind the slats on either side of his broken leg, nearly passing out again from the pain as he tried to force it into as straight a line as he could. He knew that if he survived this ordeal, his leg would have to be re-broken and set again. Hopefully it would heal well enough this way to at least limp on.

    Making every moment more difficult was the fact that he had the use of only one eye—he found that he had no depth perception. The injured eye was still seeping blood and it was attracting flying night bugs, which he kept waving away. He finally found an old necktie in the dump that seemed halfway clean and he wrapped it around his forehead at an angle, covering the tender eye.

    He was terribly hungry, thirsty, and badly dehydrated—he could feel that his lips were cracked. There were plenty of fruits and nuts to eat—grapes, mangoes, walnuts, and apples were plentiful in this area—but there was nothing to drink.

    He finally dragged himself higher up the hill and found a cave-like spot perhaps 200 feet away from the dump. It was sheltered by boulders and a huge fallen oak tree.

    He lay on his back, gasping for a while, gazing up through the treetops at the stars.

    At last he fell fast asleep.

    Sometime in the middle of the night, Giorgio woke up again...and this time, he truly believed he was in hell.

    His whole body felt like it was on fire, especially his left eye. He had a high fever and chills, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. The necktie that he’d wrapped around his head had come off. When he reached up to touch his eye he found that it was badly swollen, and it felt hot.

    With dim, feverish awareness he realized that he had a severe eye infection.

    He debated whether or not to try and crawl his way to a hospital, but decided he would never make it. And as terrible as he felt, the thought of being arrested and sent to jail again was worse. The currency counterfeiting crime and murders he had committed in the past few days would land him in an Italian prison for the rest of his life.

    There was no way he would allow that to happen. He had only been to prison once, for two years, in the United States. Attica was a nightmare. He vowed that he would never spend another day in prison—he would slit his own throat before he would subject himself to that again.

    He decided he had no choice but to tough it out. He knew that the infection in his eye could easily spread into his brain... he could only imagine how horrible it would be to die of encephalitis while laying alone out in the middle of the woods.

    But going to prison was worse.

    Far worse.

    He was 54 years old and except for those two years in Attica when he was merely a kid, he had been living his whole life as a free man. There was no way he could adapt to prison now.

    It would be better to die.

    Giorgio did not move from that spot for two entire days. Or at least he did not think he moved.

    He soon began having vivid fever dreams and nightmares that were surreal and terrifying. In one dream he was back in Cinecittà, the Rome slum he had grown up in, and he was a child being taunted by bullies...and then he was in Attica again, being raped by three inmates... and then he was on the container ship on which he had illegally entered the USA. He was stuck inside his stowaway hiding place in the hull, suffocating, and couldn’t get out. In the worst dream, he was standing in the master bedroom in his castle at Fontanella, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. He was immaculately dressed, in a white Armani tuxedo...but his face kept changing. First he was a young boy, then an old man, then middle aged...and with a panicky feeling he realized he could not remember how old he was or even who he was.

    As he peered more closely at his face in the mirror, he noticed that his left eye was moving by itself...and then some nasty little insect-like creature popped out, knocking the eye from its socket. It hung down grotesquely across his white tux, blood splattering everywhere.

    He screamed. He woke up in the woods, recalling it all...or at least he thought he woke up...he wasn’t sure of anything now.

    The fever dreams blurred together until he could no longer distinguish them from reality.

    Suddenly, amidst one of the horrific dreams, all was silent. It was as if an incredibly long freight train had been roaring past him for the past two days and had finally gone by, the last wagon clicking away in the distance...and now there was only a strange, tranquil quiet.

    Giorgio opened his eyes and found himself staring up through the treetops. It was morning. He could hear the faint sound of birds twittering. The sun was filtering down through the leaves, warming his face.

    His body was sticky with dried sweat but he didn’t feel feverish anymore.

    He shakily reached up and touched his face, gingerly feeling his injured eye...

    Giorgio gasped.

    His eyeball was gone!

    With his heart pounding, he sat bolt upright, and it slowly came back to him.

    He had dug the eyeball out himself.

    At some point during his high fever, he was in so much agony that he begged God to let him die.

    But apparently God hadn’t been listening.

    Instead, something told Giorgio to go back down to the seashore. He managed that trek down the rugged hillside, somehow, though he had no recollection of it. All he remembered was crawling into the gentle waves...the seawater will save you, Giorgio...some voice inside kept telling him. He had flayed in the water on his knees, being knocked about by the waves, slipping and sliding on the rocks. When he was waist-high he ducked his head under the surface...and with one finger he dug out his eyeball and ripped it free. Just like that, in one quick motion, he yanked it out of his skull, optic nerve and all. It hadn’t hurt much, just a bright strobe of pain and it was all over. The eyeball had become very much like an abscessed splinter that was so badly infected the body was simply ready to eject it. The cool seawater had soothed the swollen, tender socket, and somehow he knew he had done the right thing.

    Now, as he gazed up through the treetops, he also knew he was going to live. He was glad for that, of course, but a dark, depressed feeling swept over him, too.

    He had harbored a faint hope that somehow his eye might be repaired, his sight in it at least partially restored.

    But now he accepted the painful fact that he would be blind in one eye the rest of his life.

    For the next few days, Giorgio focused on nourishing his starving, dehydrated body. As it was September, there was no shortage of fruit to eat, and the juices at least partially relieved his hunger and thirst. But he was a big, strong man—he couldn’t imagine living on fruits, nuts and juices, as he simply wasn’t used to it.

    He needed meat.

    And fresh water.

    Using the crutch, he limped his way back to the dump and snatched a few big garbage bags and glass jars, then made the long, painful trek down to the shore and washed everything thoroughly with seawater.

    When he carried it all back up to his lair, as he was beginning to think of it, he stretched the large pieces of plastic in the branches of the fallen oak and on flat boulders, using small rocks to hold them in place. He positioned the jars under the plastic sheets so they would catch any water that was caught or formed.

    He prayed for rain.

    There was no rain that night, but the next morning enough dew had formed and rolled down the plastic to provide a few precious gulps from the jars.

    As he

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