GHOST OF THE GODFATHER

CHAPTER 18: The Gate of Memory and Iron

The northern mountain fog wrapped around the dark blue van like a damp shroud. The cracked asphalt road gradually gave way to a slick, rocky trail, forcing Silas to grip the wheel tighter. Beside him, Vittorio Valdieri stared out the window, his eyes scanning the towering line of pine trees, searching for a sign that had never existed on any map.

“We’ve passed the old marble quarry boundary, Don,” Silas said, his voice trembling slightly as the cold air seeped in through the door seams. “There’s nothing but cliffs ahead. If your coordinates are wrong, we’ll be stranded up here by nightfall.”

Vittorio pointed toward a protruding rock face on the left. “Stop behind that large boulder. Kill the lights and the engine.”

Silas obeyed. Silence fell instantly, leaving only the sound of water droplets falling from the pine needles onto the van’s metal roof.

“Why are we stopping here? There’s no door,” Silas asked, gripping his pistol as his eyes scanned the surroundings.

“A visible door is a door that can be destroyed easily, Silas,” Vittorio replied as he stepped out of the van. He pulled his black jacket tighter, suppressing the tremor returning to his body from the cold. “Follow me. Bring the flashlight, but don’t turn it on until I tell you.”

They climbed the steep slope for ten minutes. Vittorio’s breathing grew ragged, Leo Ravelli’s lungs rebelling against the thin mountain air. Yet Vittorio’s iron will forced his legs forward until they stood before a marble wall concealed by thorny bushes and thick moss.

“This is just a stone wall, Don,” Silas muttered in disappointment.

Vittorio did not respond. He ran his fingers along the marble surface, searching for a small crack shaped like an inverted V. When his fingers found it, he pressed a section of stone that looked like a natural protrusion.

Click.

A metallic mechanism shifted behind the stone. A small opening, about five centimeters in diameter, appeared.

“Silas, give me the sewing needle from your medical kit,” Vittorio ordered.

“A needle? For what?” Silas handed it over, confused.

Vittorio took the needle and, without hesitation, pierced the tip of his thumb until fresh blood flowed. He let the blood drip into the small opening.

“DNA analysis? In the seventies?” Silas was stunned.

“Not DNA,” Vittorio whispered, enduring the sting. “Just density sensors and a simple chemical reaction I developed with that German scientist. Organic fluid with a specific iron content triggers the hydraulic mechanism. Only Valdieri blood carries that particular metallic composition from our family’s old medical traditions.”

A few tense seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled softly. The marble wall shifted diagonally, revealing a thick steel door, free of rust despite being buried for half a century.

“Inside,” Vittorio said.

Silas switched on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness of the bunker, revealing a long corridor lined with lead-coated walls. The air inside was dry and carried a faint scent of ozone, a sign that the passive ventilation system was still functioning.

“Incredible,” Silas whispered, his eyes widening at the rows of vaults neatly arranged along the corridor. “This is more like a fortress than a storage facility.”

“This is my life insurance, Silas,” Vittorio said as he walked toward a control panel at the end of the corridor. “Antonio’s digital technology has no power here. Everything is mechanical, analog, and real.”

Vittorio flipped the main switch. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered briefly before humming to life. The vast chamber before them came into view, a small laboratory, stacks of wooden crates filled with weapons, and a massive vault at the center marked with the code V-74.

“Is that the black archive vault you mentioned?” Silas asked as he approached the weapon crates.

“No. The black archive is in cabinet number nine,” Vittorio pointed toward the row of cabinets behind them. “That central vault holds EMP prototypes and something more important than a list of bribes.”

Vittorio turned the combination wheel on the V-74 vault. Each rotation produced a precise click. When the vault door opened, Silas held his breath. There was no gold or stacks of cash inside. Only a medium-sized metal briefcase and a neatly hung black suit, complete with a white shirt and silk tie.

“Your clothes?” Silas asked, puzzled.

“My identity,” Vittorio replied. He touched the fabric gently. “This suit is layered with a prototype Kevlar fiber. Fifty years ago, it was the most advanced technology in the world. And this metal case, this is the god-killer we’ve been looking for.”

Vittorio opened the metal case. Inside was a device resembling a large communication radio, fitted with a complex coiled copper antenna.

“This is the frequency prototype?” Silas stepped closer, curiosity filling his face.

“Yes. This device creates an electromagnetic surge in a short but extremely dense frequency burst. If activated, it will burn every silicon chip within a one-kilometer radius. Satellites, surveillance cameras, biometric sensors, all of it will go blind in an instant,” Vittorio explained.

“But Don, if we use it, won’t we go blind too? Our modern weapons rely on electronics,” Silas pointed out.

Vittorio smiled faintly, the expression carrying the authority of a seasoned strategist. “That is why I retrieved The Black Mamba and the old weapons from those crates. We will fight in a world where their technology is dead, while our instincts and analog weapons remain alive. We will drag them back into the dark ages, where I am the ruler.”

“Brilliant. Truly brilliant,” Silas said as he opened one of the wooden crates. Inside, he found an AK-47 still coated in protective oil. “This weapon will never jam, even if the world ends.”

“Take what you need, Silas,” Vittorio ordered as he began removing his dirty jacket. “I need to shed this addict’s skin and wear that of a Don. We don’t have much time. Marco Velli must have realized by now that his pursuit team in the sewers never returned.”

Silas nodded and began filling his backpack with ammunition and old grenades. “What about the black archive? Are we taking it now?”

Vittorio paused, holding a clean white shirt. “Not all of it. I only need the list of The Circle’s board members and proof of their fund transfers into Antonio’s personal accounts. We will use that to destroy trust among them. An organization built on greed collapses quickly when betrayal takes root within.”

“You want to trigger a civil war inside The Circle?”

“I want them to devour each other, Silas. I will simply be the executioner who cuts down whoever remains,” Vittorio replied coldly.

As Vittorio put on the black suit, an old monitor in the corner suddenly flickered to life on its own. Static filled the screen, followed by a familiar hissing sound.

Bzzzt… Vittorio… Bzzzt.

Vittorio and Silas froze. Silas immediately aimed his weapon at the monitor.

“Who is that? How is there a signal getting in here?” Silas asked, panic creeping into his voice.

Vittorio stepped closer to the monitor. “Don’t shoot, Silas. This is not an external signal. It’s a message triggered when the V-74 vault is opened.”

On the screen appeared the face of a middle-aged man with thick glasses, the German scientist who once worked with Vittorio, Dr. Hans Weber. He looked terrified, the recording clearly made in haste.

“Vittorio, if you are seeing this, then I am already dead or captured,” Hans’s voice trembled, his Italian laced with a German accent. “Antonio, he doesn’t just want this EMP. He has found a way to reverse its frequency. He wants to build a satellite network capable of tracking every human heartbeat through their digital IDs. Project Ouroboros is not just about money, Vittorio. It is about total elimination for anyone whose heartbeat is not registered in their system.”

Vittorio clenched his fist. “Total elimination?”

“Listen carefully,” Hans continued. “The key to stopping Ouroboros lies within this EMP’s frequency code. Do not use it only to destroy. Use it to upload an analog virus into their data center. But you will need someone who can breach the physical firewall at the core of Valdieri Plaza. May God protect you, Don.”

The screen went black again.

“A physical firewall?” Silas looked at Vittorio. “That means we have to go straight into the heart of their defenses. The top floor of Valdieri Plaza.”

Vittorio buttoned his suit, adjusting his tie in front of a small mirror. His appearance had completely transformed. Though his face was still gaunt, the black suit gave him structure and terrifying authority. He looked like a reaper risen from a marble grave.

“That is a suicide mission, Silas,” Vittorio said as he checked The Black Mamba and slipped it into a specially designed inner pocket.

“And since when have you feared death, Don?” Silas replied with a challenging smile.

“I do not fear death, Silas. I simply do not intend to die before Antonio sees my face in his final moment,” Vittorio answered. “Prepare the van. We’re heading back to the city. But this time, we won’t be hiding in the sewers.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

Vittorio picked up the metal case containing the EMP device and carried it firmly. “We’re going to make Marco Velli come to us. I want him to feel what it’s like to be prey before he meets his master.”

“How do we lure him?”

“Use the old gang radio on that table,” Vittorio pointed to an analog transmitter. “Send an open message on the police public frequency. Tell him Leo Ravelli is waiting at warehouse sector seven in the port. Tell him the Godfather wants to talk.”

Silas froze. “That’s the same as inviting all of them to slaughter us.”

“That is exactly the point, Silas,” Vittorio said as he walked toward the bunker exit. “I want them all in one place. The moment they think they have cornered a rat, that is when I will unleash this EMP and show them who the real predator in the dark is.”

Vittorio Valdieri stepped out of the bunker, back into the mountain fog. His black suit stood in stark contrast to the pale surroundings. He was no longer a frightened fugitive. He was a ghost carrying digital apocalypse to his enemies.

“Come, Silas. It’s time to teach Antonio what happens when you let the ghosts of your past rise again,” Vittorio said in a cold, absolute tone.

The dark blue van began its descent down the mountain, carrying a payload capable of crippling an entire city. The real war had just begun, and this time, Vittorio Valdieri held command over the darkness.