I listen to her describe bringing strangers to my territory. Strangers with cameras and questions and government connections, and my first instinct is to shut this down. Everything about her vision threatens the isolation I've maintained in Monte Vento.
But as she talks, something else occurs to me. "What about accommodations?" I ask.
"That's the beauty of it," she says, leaning closer. "We convert existing empty houses into vacation rentals. Partner with homeowners who need income."
Houses I control, filled with tourists I could monitor. Perfect cover for guests who aren't really tourists.
"And activities?" I ask.
"Cooking classes, wine tastings, boat excursions, historical tours. Total immersion in authentic village life."
Authentic village life that happens to include an illegal business she'd never suspect. A village that promotes tourism would have legitimate reasons for strangers coming and going. For money changing hands. For boats arriving at unusual hours.
"The revenue potential is enormous," she continues, showing me financial projections.
I take a closer look at the numbers. Legitimate revenue could hide much larger amounts of illegitimate income.
"You've thought this through," I observe with grudging respect.
"I have. And I think it could work, Enzo. I think it could really help this place."
She genuinely believes she can save Monte Vento through tourism. She has no idea the village's problems exist because I prefer it isolated and dependent. But her plans could serve my purposes in ways she'll never know or understand.
"There would be challenges to your plan," I say carefully.
"Such as?"
"Permits. Regulations. Some people in the village might resist change."
"All manageable with the right local partnerships, I’m sure." She looks at me hopefully. "That's where you come in."
"How so?"
"You have influence here. Connections. If you supported it, the others in the village would follow."
Influence. Connections. She has no idea how accurate that is.
"What would you need from me?"
"Help navigating the local politics." She pauses. "And trust."
Trust.
The one thing I can't give her, because everything I'm considering involves using her passion for purposes that would horrify her. But I can give her the illusion of trust.
"Your ideas are interesting," I say, which is not a lie.
"You'll consider it then? As a way to help me pay off the debt?"
"I'll consider it."
She gives me a bright smile. She has no idea I'm planning to use her intelligence to provide cover for activities she'd never accept.
"This calls for a celebration," she says, reaching for the wine bottle.
"A celebration might be premature. I said I'd consider it, not approve it."
"But you're interested. That's more than I had this morning."
