Piccolino coughs, drowning in his own blood. A sad smile.
PICCOLINO (CONT'D) We sold him.
64.
DEL ROVERE:
Sold him to whom?
CUT TO:
SAVERIO MAMMOLITI walks through a factory where women sew counterfeit Fendi handbags. Mammoliti examines the workmanship on one of thehandbags, comparing it against the genuine article.
This lining. It needs to be doublestiched to look like the real Fendi.
My buyer can tell the difference.
Mammoliti is forty years old, blankly handsome, and dressedin a tailored suit:
he could easily be seen in the business- class lounge of any international airport in the world.
MAMMOLITI (CONT'D) Do it again.
Mammoliti hands the bag back to the woman. She nods, carefulnot to make eye contact:
she is frightened of him.
FACTORY WOMAN:
Sicuramente, Signore. Perdonami.
INT. MERCEDES 280SE -- DAY Saverio Mammoliti sits in the backseat, his briefcase openbeside him, perusing a balance sheet. His bald-shavendriver/bodyguard, SGR., pulls over behind a tractor-trailer.
INT. TRACTOR-TRAILER -- DAY The cargo door rolls open, revealing pallets of counterfeitgoods. Paul Getty is in back, guarded by two of Mammoliti's men. Cinquanta is here as well.
MAMMOLITI:
(re:
Cinquanta) What's this?
SGR.
He comes with the boy.
Mammoliti looks Cinquanta over; a 21st Century gangsterlooking back at a Stone Age one.
MAMMOLITI:
Get him out of here. I don't want him around.
65.
CINQUANTAIt was part of our deal. I helpwith the kid. I look after him.