“You’re coming back.” I didn’t ask. I demanded it.
Mario searched my face. A shaky breath escaped as he tried to form a reply. But instead, he offered more directions. “You will stay on Sardinia with Don Manca’s brother. He has a villa in the mountains. It is guarded and safe. There is a doctor who visits. You will?—”
“You are coming back.” I willed it into being. I would not be alone. “Then, we’ll talk about the rest, understand?”
“My love. If?—”
No. I would not let him weasel out of this. He might have doubts, but I didn’t. Not about this. If there was one man in this world who could arrange a miracle and avoid death, it was Mario. He was formed from men like Don Manca and that bastard, Niccolò Valentini. He had friends like Loppa, Firenze, and Ringo. I would accept nothing less from them. “We’ll talk about last night and everything else when you get back.”
He nodded, accepting my words.
But I don’t think he believed in them.
Too soon, he and Loppa slipped away. The house held its breath waiting for violence that hovered at the edges of everyone’s minds.
And I did what came naturally. I planned, plotted, arranged all the moving parts so that when it came time to move, I’d be ready.
But to move those plans into reality, I needed Ellie.
19
Mario
Don Conti’s home towered over the countryside and the Tyrrhenian Sea. The land was divided into minor villas and farm estates, with one exception, the ancient castle-like structure that once served as fortress, seat of power, smuggling hub, and most recently represented the crumbling grasp of a once proud family.
Four armed guards met our party at the gate. Their automatic weapons were displayed openly. Somewhere behind the thick stone walls guarded by multiple watch towers, my grandfather waited.
I walked in alone and stripped of any weapon they found. But my hands were intact. My tongue rested behind my teeth, and my calculating mind worked overtime to measure the distances, find the weaknesses behind the walls, plot rally points, scan for rust on the iron bars across the windows, and determine the fastest escape route out of this maze of buildings that clawed deeply into the hillside.
Over the centuries, additions had been added for comfort, or fashion. Only the main building and its attached kitchens and sub-kitchens and wine cellars were built for a full-fledged assault.
This fit my plan perfectly.
Don Conti’s study sat near the base of the eastern tower. The staircase attached to the main hall but was narrow and twisted upon itself like a squared cobra. The hallway at the second-floor landing flanked a small balcony where you could see the room below or the rafters above. It would be an excellent place to position a sniper.
I logged that information as I entered Don Conti’s office.
My grandfather idled on the couch. Near him were two guards, armed with handguns and knives, and perhaps more. His captors had taken his coat, his shoes, and likely stripped him before allowing him to wear the rumpled clothes on his back.
He appeared uninjured. That was good.
His face was carefully composed. The lids of his eyes hung at half-mast dulling the light lurking under them. He was placid, and plotting.
“Nipito.” His endearment for me wasn’t spoken with the usual warmth. It was as cold as a knife in winter.
“Grandfather.” My greeting wasn’t warm, but it held a note of civility that his had lacked. “Were you too slow? Or did you mean for them to catch you?”
“Shut up, boy.” He spat out the command bitterly.
I should obey. The code demanded I respect my elders.
And yet, the code was also designed to remind men like me that respect is earned, fought for, and handed out with closed fists and open eyes.
Standing near the fireplace was a solicitor from Father’s arsenal. The stack of papers on the table next to him stank of his touch. They were another betrayal carefully plotted by an elder who’d grown too accustomed to politics and who’d forgotten love until it was too late to salvage the loss.
The four guards who’d escorted me to this place split into two camps. One pair guarded the outside hallway from invasion, and the pair inside took each side of the door as my jailers.
Don Conti enthroned himself behind a large desk. Behind him, his daughter loomed like a vulture. The wall at their backs was constructed of stone so ancient it was likely ripped from the foundations of the world. There were no windows or escape routes in sight. Fighting my way out of this mess would not be easy. With one reinforced door, four guards, and a maze of castle hallways behind me, it appeared hopeless.
