Justine flashed me a look of concern.
“When? Why?” she asked.
“To find out what he knows, why he’s consorting with a street gang,” I said. “I want you, Sci and Mo-bot to reestablish surveillance on the Inferno. We need to know what else the Dark Fates are hiding.”
I wanted us to have eyes and ears on the gang, but a large part of the reason I asked Justine to go to the bar in Esquilino was to keep her away from my meeting with Altmer. I knew I would be walking into danger and didn’t want our personal relationship to complicate a potentially volatile situation.
“No way,” she said. “I’m coming with you. I can help youwith Altmer, read the situation, watch for danger. Have your back.”
“And I can get you out of danger,” Mo-bot said.
“Sci can’t handle the Inferno on his own,” I responded.
“Not after last time,” he conceded. “They’ll have guessed I was the one who planted the devices. And if their man reviewed the footage, he’ll have seen me walking away from them after I put them in position.”
“I’ll go, Jack,” Faduma said. “I’ll help Sci. Then the others can go with you. Keep you safe.”
I couldn’t think of any reason to object.
“Thank you, Ms. Salah,” Mo-bot said. “It’s nice to meet someone else who’s brimming with common sense.”
“I’d like to help too,” Valentina said, speaking up at last. She seemed a little starstruck and looked at Mo-bot with unmistakable awe. “It would be an honor to work with you in the real world.”
“Don’t overdo it, Valentina,” Mo-bot said. “I might develop a God complex or something. If it’s okay with the boss, I think we’ll take all the help we can get.”
I nodded. Mo-bot was right; we were facing a network of powerful interests and weren’t in any position to turn away offers of assistance from people with special talents.
“It’s fine with me,” I said, and Valentina smiled.
CHAPTER82
VALENTINA GAVE SCI and Faduma her car, a two-year-old black Maserati Levante. Faduma drove it through the busy streets of Rome, more crowded than usual thanks to Roma’s match against Inter Milan, which was due to start at 7 p.m. It took them over two hours to get from Ostia to Esquilino.
“Do you do this much?” Faduma asked.
Sci shook his head. “Normally I get to hang out with dead bodies and crime scenes. Forensic investigation is my specialism, but when Jack gets himself in a jam, we all have to improvise. You?”
“More than I would like,” Faduma replied, steering the car around a crowd of Inter fans, who were chanting boisterously as they crossed the road. “It’s getting harder and harder to hold the rich and powerful to account. Often it requires exceptional measures.”
“Exceptional measures,” Sci responded. “I like that.”
“Does Jack get in many of these jams?”
Sci sighed. “Too many to count. Trouble follows him like a loyal dog, and he’s got too much decency and honor to shoo it away.”
“Yes,” Faduma replied. “He seems like a good man.”
“He is,” Sci said, and they drove on in silence for a while.
The streets shed any semblance of wealth, comfort, and much of their beauty as they entered Esquilino.
“Next right,” Sci said as they approached Via Mamiani.
Faduma nodded and took the turn. She saw the brightly lit symbol of a flame and the similarly illuminated word “Inferno” over the entrance to the bar.
She pulled into a space about fifty yards from the corner. Most of the stores around them were closed either permanently or for the match, their drawn shutters daubed with graffiti. Further along the street, a takeaway, café and another bar were open, but none had many customers. The Inferno Bar was the liveliest place on Via Mamiani, blasting music into the early-evening air.
There were a few smokers gathered outside who looked to Faduma angry and degenerate. The kind of ignorant men and women who had given her such a hostile reception when she’d first arrived in Italy.
