"The shipment from Marseille." Roberto wipes sweat from his forehead. "Customs flagged it."
"Why?"
"They say the paperwork doesn't match the cargo."
Because it doesn't. The paperwork says electronics. The cargo is something else entirely.
"How much did you pay them?" I ask.
"The usual amount."
"Pay double."
"I tried. They're not taking it." Roberto's voice drops. "They brought in someone new. From Rome. He's not one of ours."
This is worse than I thought. "Where is he now?"
"Office block. Building Three."
I look at Bruno. He nods. We both know what needs to be done.
"Tommy, Paulie, stay with the shipment," I say. "Bruno, with me."
As we walk across the dock, Paulie calls out, "Hey boss, is it true?"
I turn. "Is what true?"
"That your girl jumped out of your car last night. On Via Dante."
I freeze. "How do you know about that?"
"Carlo's cousin saw the whole thing. Said you were chasing her down the street in a bad neighborhood." Paulie's grinning. "Is it true?"
Heat crawls up my neck. "That's none of your fucking business."
"So, it is true." Tommy's trying not to smile. "She really jumped out of a moving car."
"The car was barely moving."
"But she jumped out of it, right?” Tommy says.
"No big deal. She was overreacting. You know how women are."
"To what?" Paulie asks.
"Nothing important. Drop it."
"What the fuck did you do to make her jump out of a moving car?" Tommy asks.
"I didn't do anything. I was driving and she—" I stop. "This conversation is over. I don’t want to hear another fucking word about it."
"Boss, if word's spreading about this—" Bruno starts.
"I don't give a shit. I care about the customs situation. Let's go."
We walk to Building Three, but I can feel their eyes on my back. How many people saw? How many people are talking about Santino Marcello's fiancée jumping out of his car like a lunatic?
The customs official is young. Mid-thirties. Clean cut. That idealistic look people get when they think they can change the system.
