“And now you’ve been made Capo for realsies? That sounds like a good thing.”
“It sounds like it, yes. That is what Tino intended: for it to sound like a good thing.”
I pick up on his tone. “But it’snota good thing,” I say slowly. “Why not, baby? I thought youwantedto move up the ranks.”
He moves restlessly again, frustration in his movements. He tugs at his cuff again; the suit doesn’t fit him well. I think about mentioning a tailor, but figure it’ll just trigger him at this stage.
“How about this,” I say, when it becomes obvious he’s trying to find a way to talk to me without actually talking to me. “I’ll sleep, and you talk your business problems through with yourself, just to be saying it out loud, you know? Like, to help you think it over.”
He regards me with cool eyes and then slowly his lips turn up. “Just talking to myself, hm? Alright.”
I ostentatiously close my eyes, and listen to Luca prowling the room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
LUCA
“Imade a play today that failed, and I’m trying to think throughwhyit failed, and what the repercussions will be.”
That’s how I start, and at first it feels dumb to be talking aloud to myself, without looking at Finch. But his idea isn’t bad.
The less he knows about the business, the less danger he’ll be in. But he’s in it up to his neck, anyway. So perhaps in this case knowledgewillbe power.
“Tino Morelli asked for my advice. Now, though, I’m wondering if he asked merely to see what my plans were, or…” I trail off, my mind working the problem over.
“Or what?” Finch asks. His eyes are open again.
I never share my thoughts with anyone, but I’m frustrated and angry and tired, and if there’s one thing I know about Finch, he’s no fool. He is, as he says, wily.
Also, this particular business does concern him. Fuscone’s determined to kill us, and if Finch can see anything that I miss, it might end up saving us both.
So I come and sit down on the edge of my husband’s hospital bed and tell him a bedtime story.
* * *
My Don’sface did not move as I made my proposal to him.
“Making me your Underboss will send a message to the other Families, and to Fuscone as well—that your blessing to split into his own entity is, in fact, a banishment. Making his most hated enemy your Underboss will send a message he can’t miss.”
Augustino Morelli might as well have been a wax statue; even the finger that had stroked his lip stilled while I spoke. Then he closed his eyes and thought, but that movement to close his eyes was the only movement he made.
“I appreciate your candor, Luciano,” he rumbled at last. “It is a bold move you propose. But I think…at this time, you need to learn more.”
“As you say,” I said after a moment, and bowed my head to hide my expression. I’d overplayed my hand. “I have much to learn, it’s true. If I might ask, sir, where would you suggest I first turn my attention?”
And with that, Tino gave me an up and down look. “When you reach a certain level in this Family, you become asymbolmore than a man. You understand? You will dine with politicians and judges; rub shoulders with the wealthy and powerful. But you would not do this as Luciano D’Amato. You would representme.”
I nodded. “I always seek to represent you as respectfully and effectively as I can.”
Tino chuckled. “Luciano, we must know our strengths. You are not what they call…how do they say it? Ah, yes: apeopleperson.”
It takes all my willpower to keep my mouth shut.
I’m a killer and a criminal. Of course I’m not a goddamn people person.
“I can learn.”
He waves his hand. “Of course you can learn. But it will never come naturally to you. Your strengths are in your mind, your keen understanding of tactics and strategy. You will make an excellentCaporegime, and that, my boy, is what I will make you now. Eh? Well, what do you say?”
