“There’s no need to apologize,” Angelo said. “But Bax and I have some pressing leads to follow up, so—”
“Of course, of course.” Castellani sat in a wing-backed armchair, and I came to sit next to Angelo. “I should let you know first that the local law enforcement agencies, as well as the federal, have been alerted to your presence here in Los Angeles. There’s been some chatter about a sighting in Santa Monica last night. I wanted to keep you informed.”
Angelo nodded slowly. “That’s very kind of you, Don Castellani. Not unexpected to hear, but we appreciate the information. We appreciate even more your desire to supply this information to us face to face, although a call, or a message through your man Jacopo, might have sufficed.”
Angelo was asking a question without asking a question. Castellani gave a slow smile. “Yes,” he said. “I called you here about something else entirely. I wondered about Don Morelli’s…intentions.”
“His intentions?” Angelo raised his eyebrows. “With regards to…?”
Castellani’s eyes flicked to me. I knew what he was thinking: I wasn’t a made man. I would never be, would never make vows to the Morelli Family like Angelo had done. I wasn’t even what the Mob recognized as an “associate”—someone who worked for the benefit of the Family like a contractor, but who wasn’t privy to their inner workings. I might have been in love with Angelo, might even have enjoyed the company of some of the other Morellis—Finch D’Amato was fun, if terrifyingly unpredictable—but I would never be a part of them.
Angelo and I had been in similar situations before, but we’d always discussed them beforehand—because he’d wantedmeto feel comfortable.
“Some of these people might want to talk about things that will curl your hair,” he’d warned me more than once. “They’re bad people, Bax. The kind you were trained at Quantico to put away.”
“Nothing is black and white,” I’d countered. “As long as I feel like the ends justify the means, I can put up with a few curls.”
That resolution had been tested during our time in Las Vegas, when Angelo and I had pulled together a team of men to serve as associates for the Morellis. We’d had some hard discussions about it—but the truth was, I could still see the good in what we were doing. Sonny Vegas needed checks and balances, and the Morelli associates would supply them.
“Perhaps we should discuss this in private,” Castellani said with an apologetic smile at me.
“Wearein private.” Angelo’s voice was almost completely even. Almost. Castellani didn’t miss the edge of iron to it. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say to Bax as well. Now, if you want something from Don Morelli, you’d better ask for it.”
Castellani turned to me. “I don’t mean to offend, Mr. Flynn. But you must see the difficulty of my position.”
Angelo stood, pulling his jacket straight and buttoning it. I stood with him, although it had been on the tip of my tongue to suggest I’d leave the room so that they could have their discussion.
“Messina,” Castellani said with a warm chuckle. He stayed seated, but spread his arms. “I don’t mean to be discourteous. A friend of yours is, of course, a friend of mine.”
“Listen, I’m happy to wait outside,” I said quietly to Angelo, trying to find a way to smooth things over. Our relationship with Castellani was too important right then to risk over something as silly as whether or not I was in the room.
Besides, I wanted to see if I could find that naked dude again and ask him a few more questions. He seemed desperate to spill intel.
“But why bother?” Angelo said to me, and then addressed Castellani. “I want to be honest with you, Don Castellani. Whatever you tell me, I will relay to Bax later. I want you to know that, to understand it. Perhaps you find you don’t want to speak with me so badly after all?”
“I’ve offended you,” Castellani said with a rueful smile. “And that was not my intention. Let me make it up to you. Come to dinner on Saturday; we can discuss business then, and your partner is welcome to join us. In the meantime, please accept the use of one of my safe houses. Much more pleasant than that filthy hotel you’ve been staying in—and it has a private gym attached.”
I waited for Angelo’s decision. We were partners in every sense of the word, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think he wasn’t theleadpartner. It was Angelo who all these mobsters feared, not me. He had their respect. Next to him, I just looked like the muscle. But that was the point. More than once, Angelo had pointed out it was a good disguise.
“That’s very generous of you, Don Castellani,” Angelo said. “Bax and I would be delighted to dine with you on Saturday night. In the meantime, we need to find Greco.” He said nothing about the safe house—or the fact that Castellani apparently knew which hotel we were staying in.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed Angelo’s obliqueness. “I’ll have the safe house directions and door code waiting for you in the foyer,” Castellani insisted. “I’m the only one with the code. You’ll be very safe there, very hidden.” Still Angelo said nothing. After an awkward pause, Castellani went on, “I heard about this Bernardi that Greco killed. Curious case.”
“Very curious,” Angelo agreed. “I’m hoping Jacopo will have another lead on Greco for us soon.”
Castellani smiled. “I’m so glad he’s being useful to you. Be careful not to rely on his judgment too heavily, though, in a sticky situation. He’s a dog with a bone, which is why I loaned him out to you for this job—but he gets a little tunnel-visioned sometimes.”
I felt an urge to defend the absent Jack, but I stayed quiet. I couldn’t imagine Luca D’Amato talking down any of his men like this, not in front ofme, anyway. And Castellani was no fool.
So there was a reason he wanted us not to trust Jack.
Or it was a double-bluff and he was telling us this so wewouldtrust Jack, just to spite him.
It was difficult to tell. We were in a city full of actors, after all.
Chapter Nine
“One more thing before you go,” Castellani said as he walked us through to the foyer. “You have—what should I call it? Fans. On the internet. Were you aware?”
