Maurizio met Nikki at the emergency entrance to Sant’Anna and San Sebastiano Hospital, together with the medical staff who had prepared for her arrival. They moved Valerio from the rear of the SUV onto a gurney, then Maurizio and Nikki ran alongside as they raced him down the passageway. Nikki tried to tell them about his injuries—the gunshot wound and the beatings…the loss of consciousness…the dehydration. But she felt inadequate as they asked more questions.
“Blood type?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any allergies?”
“I don’t know.”
It felt somehow significant that she didn’t have answers—like she’d let him down.
Her knowledge of Valerio was something Nikki had trouble measuring. She knew the shape of his hands when he tied a bowline. She knew the way he puffed out his breath as he dashed aroundCalypso, trimming the sails. She knew the way he liked to knock the cap off his beer, the irresistible sound of his belly laugh, and the pungent stink of him after a day of hard work together under a hot sun. But she didn’t know his blood type.
—
Afterwards, Nikki stood with Maurizio in the waiting room.
“Sonia called,” he said, handing her coffee in a thin plastic cup. “The whole department is out there. She says it’s a massacre…dozens of men killed. Everything burning. Nikki, how the hell did you get him out?”
She was saved having to answer when an orderly in blue scrubs called her name.
“They’re bringing him into surgery,” he told her. “He wants to talk to you first.”
—
In the harsh lights, Valerio’s bloodied and swollen face put an ache in Nikki’s chest—something like homesickness and panic.
She maneuvered past the tubes and equipment.
Valerio’s words were slurred. “Lazarov—not in charge,” he told her. “Just the sheepdog…keeping Luca in line.”
“That’s what Federico and De Rosa thought, too,” she said quietly. “Lazarov tried to kill Tito.”
“Should’ve killed me,” he said. “…Told him I worked for his boss…bought me time. Obedient sheepdog.”
His eyelids drooped.
Obedient.She remembered the passage fromThe Brothers Karamazov: “Having chosen an elder, you renounce your individual will and surrender it to him in complete obedience…”
“Got to find the shepherd,” Valerio said, eyes suddenly wide, meeting her gaze. “Now. Before it’s too late.”
Nikki pushed back. “What do you mean?”
“Luca’s gone,” Valerio said. “There’s a small window…now…got to find the shepherd. Understand? You. Everyone else is…compromised.”
Nikki was suddenly cold. An icy current surged through her.
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she said.
“The rats are running,” he mumbled. “See where they run.”
—
Nikki watched as they pushed Valerio out of sight, frigid juddering, heavy with the weight of his expectation. Why had he asked her? Why not Maurizio?
Everyone else is compromised, he’d said. Did he think this included his partner?
Federico had believed the police were corrupt, too—and he’d been right about everything.
