The Stolen Miracle

By Xanthi Ioannou

"My dearest Aurora,
[..] I suspect, my dear, that you have already begun to search and investigate the masterpiece that you have inherited. No, my dear, as you must already know, you were not chosen as my heir randomly. The tower you inherited is both blessed and cursed. Blessed because it hides a great miracle. Cursed, precisely because it hides this great miracle. If you are reading this letter, it means that I did not manage to complete my mission. I am not worried though, because this miracle is in the right and blessed hands. You might be the only person who can solve this mystery my dear, but you must discover the reasons why on your own. Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that. The advice I will give you is to have an open mind and listen to the voice that comes from within. Do not fall into the traps of logic; let your instincts guide you, and above all do not become the prey of your fears. You are under the best protection anyway. Always remember that everything in this life is possible and feasible. If you believe this, you will experience cosmic moments [..]
With lots of love and appreciation,
Aunt Augusta"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xanthi Ioannou
• Release date: Sep 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005394493

Xanthi Ioannou

Xanthi Ioannou was born in Nicosia, Cyprus. She graduated from the Law School of the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki in Greece and later pursued postgraduate studies at the City University of London in the United Kingdom on LLM in International Commercial Law with specialisation in Banking and Corporate Finance. The Stolen Miracle is her first novella.Η Ξάνθη Ιωάννου γεννήθηκε και μεγάλωσε στη Κύπρο και συγκεκριμένα στη Λευκωσία, όπου και εξακολουθεί να ζει μέχρι σήμερα. Αποφοίτησε από τη Νομική Σχολή του Αριστοτελείου Πανεπιστημίου Θεσσαλονίκης στην Ελλάδα και μετέπειτα ακολούθησε μεταπτυχιακές σπουδές στο City University of London στο Ηνωμένο Βασίλειο με θέμα LLM in International Commercial Law and Corporate Finance. Το Κλεμμένο Θαύμα αποτελεί τη πρώτη της νουβέλα.

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THE STOLEN MIRACLE

XANTHI IOANNOU

Copyright © 2019 by Xanthi Ioannou.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Translation from Greek: Xanthi Ioannou

Editor: Nectaria Hadjisergis

ISBN: 9798642755983

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

To all the great writers who impress me, inspire me and change my life.

To those who believed and still believe in me.

To the unknown voice that can be heard from the depths of the heart; sometimes whispering, sometimes clamouring…

Chapter Ι

Provence, Southern France, Spring 2008. 

Hesitantly, I entered the half-collapsed tower. Ruins, graffiti and rubbish covered the place. Negligence and abandonment cried out from everywhere. From the ceiling, the floor, the balconies of the middle floor located to the left and right of the grand staircase. At first glance there were no hopes for survival. It had now become a refuge for drug addicts. I must confess that the sight did not arouse any feelings of disgust or fear, because I was prepared for what to expect. After all, it was obvious from the exterior that the building had been abandoned for many decades therefore my eyes simply beheld the obvious and the anticipated. Yet, I try not to judge anything or anyone at first glance, even though sometimes this is impossible. Especially when it comes to humans.

The eyes did not capture the essence betrayed by the aura of the main entrance and the very discreet scents bursting breathlessly from the imposing ruins. Despite the literally bombarded setting, an air of nobility and luxury, though faint, was ever present. At once I felt that this nobility had existed for many years and was the legacy of many generations who had lived to see this tower overflowing with life; live jazz, Charleston, exceptionally good wine, dancing until the early hours of the morning and wonderful memories.

A creepy sight, isn ’ t it? asked the taxi driver who had taken me to the tower.

I made no reply. Just smiled. Unlike my companion, who perceived the sight as creepy, through the weak gusts of nobility and luxury I could distinguish a cry of help and despair exuding from the once aristocratic tower. If it were human, it would have foreign bodies on it, sucking its blood for years on end. It would desperately beg for help without receiving any response from its fellow humans who just watch, letting it die slowly without doing anything about it. Do buildings perhaps have a soul after all?

I had experienced this feeling once before during a journey to Palermo, Sicily many years ago. The narrow streets in the centre of the city incredibly picturesque but, at the same time, full of sadness, suffering and evident that they had fallen victims of imminent human malice and foolishness. Many claimed that the city emanated an aura of Mafia. For some reason I had felt, to a greater extent, this same feeling which was now provoked by the imposing tower standing before my eyes; an appeal for help, years of sadness, betrayed trust, a broken heart.

It wasn ’ t until later that I realised the aura surrounding Palermo was by no means accidental. It was the offspring of a long-lasting dispute, a war, between the State and the Sicilian Mafia, otherwise known as Cosa Nostra. As is commonly known, Palermo was the epicentre. The Mafia ’ s atrocities reached their peak in the early 1980 ’ s culminating in a large and ever-increasing number of victims including children. Many murders were committed in public places and were aimed at judges, policemen, journalists and anyone who had the courage and the boldness to stand in the way of the Mafia ’ s demonic plans. The State, on the other hand, was absent; incapable of taking adequate and sufficient measures to protect both the armed and unarmed population, whilst a part of it was actually entwined in Cosa Nostra ’ s tentacles acting in favour of its malicious plans. There was only one purpose: enforcing a vicious and dictatorial regime at any cost.

In response to all this chaos, a nucleus was borne within Palermo ’ s judicial circle, which comprised exceptional intellectual magistrates. Its two leaders, Giovanni Falcone and Paolo Borsellino, managed to bring more than four hundred mob members at once to the dock through ingenious methodology and hours of hard work. The trial became known as the Maxi Trial during which the mob members were held in highly secured cells. The outcome of the trial was the conviction of approximately three hundred and sixty mob members; an act which restored hope within the souls of Palermo ’ s inhabitants and vindicated those who went down fighting against money laundering, greed, and non-existent moral boundaries.

Those feelings, however, were only temporary. During the Appeal, the convictions were reverted, most of the mob members were set free and Giovanni Falcone accepted a transfer to the Ministry of Justice in Rome. His position, albeit away from Palermo, gave him the discretion to promote important legislation, which led to the re-arrest of most mob members who had been released during the Appeal. He also played a key role in the reformation of the Italian penal system, as he set up the N ational Organised C rime Bureau and regional offices dealing with issues concerning the Mafia. He, of course, became a target especially after the Maxi Trial . When, feeling threatened, the boss of bosses ( ‘ Capo dei Capi ’ ), Salvatore Riina, otherwise known as Toto Rina, or ‘ the Beast ’ ( ‘ La Bestia ’ ), born in Corleone, Sicily, involved in the Mafia from a very young age, head of Cosa Nostra and responsible for one to two hundred murders, prepared a counterattack.

23 rd May 1992. Toto Riina ’ s men planted a half-tonne bomb under a section of the highway connecting Palermo Airport and the Palermo City. They then hid in a building nearby. Giovanni Falcone ’ s bullet-proof car was heading from the airport to Palermo when the bomb remotely went off killing Giovanni Falcone, his wife Francesca Morvillo and his two bodyguards Antonio Montinaro and Vito Schifani who accompanied the couple in other vehicles. The intensity of the explosion was so strong that it was recorded by local Earthquake & Vibration Measurement Systems. Witnesses claim that ‘ the Beast ’ celebrated his successful assassination attempt by throwing a party in memory of Giovanni Falcone and drinking French champagne.

Fifty-seven days after Giovanni Falcone ’ s assassination, specifically on the 19 th July 1992, another assassination occurred in Palermo. This time the victim was Paolo Borsellino who was, apart from a member of the anti-Mafia core, also Giovanni Falcone ’ s childhood friend. They had grown up in the same neighbourhood. Paolo Borsellino claimed to have unambiguous evidence that the Italian government was engaged in negotiations with the Mafia.

The tragedy of the events was indescribable, especially when one considers that these were just two of the many indecent and unmerciful assassinations of people who, defying danger, sacrificed their lives in defense of their moral principles. However, the developments that ensued were unexpected. The assassinations of the two heroes gave rise to public outrage and feelings of rebellion and despair, forcing the State to act more assertively against Tito Riina. Thousands of demonstrators poured into the streets of Palermo in support of the principles that the two heroes stood for. So, in 1993 ‘ the Beast ’ was arrested in Palermo, unarmed in a car, after approximately 20 years of being a fugitive. Toto Rina died in prison due to health problems in November 2017. According to documentation, he was serving twenty-six life sentences.

In honour of these two modern heroes, amongst others, Palermo Airport is now called Palermo Airport  Falcone Borcellino ( Aeroporto Internazionale di Palermo Falcone e Borsellino ). Palermo of course still counts its wounds. In addition to the endless bloodshed and deeply rooted effects of the Cosa ’ s Nostra terrorist regime, buildings of remarkable architecture were demolished following instructions given by politicians who had links to the illegal organisation. Colourless concrete buildings replaced them. Efforts, however, to renovate and rebuild places of social interest, which had previously been at the mercy of the Mafia, and their transformation into parks and squares, constitute positive notes.

Having read the modern history of Palermo I was able to understand why the city resembled a man who had suffered multiple heart attacks. Returning, therefore, to the present and looking again and again at the masterpiece that stood before me, I couldn't help wondering what its story was. What does its past hide? Why I am receiving this cry for help? My instinct told me that it concurrently hid a pleasant yet unpleasant story. A voice inside me urged me to discover it. officeArt object

This tower, consisting of two five-storey annexes, was obviously mine. At least this is what was stated in the will left by my maternal grandmother ’ s distant millionaire cousin, Aunt Augusta, whom I had never met and who lived in magical Salzburg, Austria. How and why I was the heir remained a mystery to all. All but Aunt Augusta of course. My mother had last seen her many years ago and she had told me that she was a very cheerful, independent person who led a highly social and philanthropic lifestyle and who possessed a love for quality on both a material and human level. She never married and we were the only relatives she had left. Aunt Augusta died at the age of ninety-two without ever facing any serious health issues.

You look like her a little bit! my mom told me a few days after the Aunt's lawyer announced the news to us. Not so much in appearance as in character. You are independent too, giving, happy, sociable but also a bit solitary. Just like Aunt.

You're saying that because you're my mom! I grinned.

Especially lately, I was feeling anything but giving and sociable. Solitary on the other hand, yes indeed. The reason being a man. Jonathan. Jonathan and I had been together for almost three years. It was the first relationship that had made me feel good, something I realised quite early on, so I started investing in it. I admired him, loved him and showed it to him at every opportunity. But six months before our separation things started to change. He stopped calling so often nor did he text as much as he used to. We would communicate and meet almost always after my efforts and things became monotonous. I admit that I had always been insecure, but in the past this was easily fixed by a tender gaze of his. I couldn ’ t feel this tenderness anymore and so those insecurities became enthroned within me. Thus, I stopped making desperate efforts