Valerio hesitated. Had he heard correctly? Notthem.Him.The shepherd Valerio had imagined, the hidden force behind Lazarov. Maybe it was a trick—Lazarov testing him.
He took the gamble anyway: “He doesn’t trust you to get the job done properly.”
Lazarov scoffed. “And he thoughtyouwould? You’re a mess, Alfieri. A fucking mess. Of course he trusts me.”
“Not after Gaetano,” Valerio said.
Lazarov stopped laughing.
It was something about what Luca had said—that it was necessary to kill Gaetano. What was necessary about it?
Valerio strained to get his thoughts in order, trying to remember what Ines had told him. Gaetano had seen something. Lazarov had been angry about it. What had he seen? Valerio didn’t know. A secret meeting between Luca and Lazarov—and someone else?
“Two weeks ago, in Salerno,” Valerio continued. “When Gaetano came into the restaurant. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to see…that was why you punched him—and why Gaetano needed to die. He was young…sloppy…undisciplined. The stakes were too high andhecouldn’t take the risk.”
Lazarov’s silence told Valerio that he was on the right track.
“Hewon’t be happy if you kill us,” Valerio continued. “I promise you that. Lazarov, I’m in trouble. I’ve been bleeding out. I’m not going to last. Ravenna is a nurse. Let her treat my injuries.”
—
His attention was on Lazarov, watching that cunning, cold face. He saw the clockwork behind those pale eyes. For the briefest moment, it was as though the air pressure had changed. The calculation Valerio needed him to make was slotting into place.
—
Then everything fell apart.
The loudbangof a gun shattered the calm. Valerio turned to the sound and saw that Ravenna had somehow gotten hold of her guard’s handgun. The guard was on the ground, writhing, shouting, blood gushing from his stomach.
Ravenna pointed the gun around towards the other men, a terror in her face.
“Let him go,” she said. “Just let Valerio go…let us leave. Valerio, please. Come with me.”
But he couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t stand or walk—and he was far too weak.
It was obvious Ravenna didn’t know how to handle the weapon. Her hands shook violently. She’d shot the first man at point-blank range, but it was clear she wouldn’t be able to hit anyone else.
Valerio said her name.
She looked at him—was looking at him—when Lazarov put a bullet in her head.
Thirty
De Rosa’s agreement to help had been in his own fashion. After Nikki and Federico answered his questions, he left them outside in the clinging rain. Two hours passed before he returned, clean, freshly shaved, hair combed. He wore leather gloves, a cashmere sweater, and a motorcycle jacket.
“Take me to wherever you think il Fantasma is,” he said. “I’ll confirm Lazarov is there.”
Federico shook his head. “You should bring all your men…an army. Luca has an army.”
“I’ll go alone,” De Rosa said firmly. “This isn’t a war. I merely want confirmation of what you say.”
“We can’t wait,” Nikki protested. She was frozen, wet, feet numb against the paving stones. “What if Valerio is hurt?”
De Rosa’s voice was ice.
“Permit me to be clear about my intentions. If Lazarov is there, as you believe, we will extract him. If you wish, you may also look for your friend—but I don’t take responsibility for you nor him. This is a coincidence, not a favor. You have not earned my favor.”
—
