“Nothing,” I said as I got up to walk out.
“Signor Rosolini,” Dr. Aiello said sharply, “whatever it is you’re doing, it’s putting your wife in distress, and that’snot helping.”
“I’ll stay out of the room until you need me,” I said.
“Thankyou,” he snapped.
I half-smiled to myself.
If only the good doctor knew how very few people alive would dare speak to me the way he just had.
I walked into the hallway and closed the door. “What?”
“Niccolo,” Lars said, and put his cell on speakerphone.
“I’m here,” I announced.
“Your police escort to the hospital – did they stick around?”Niccolo asked.
Lars frowned. “Yes. I asked them to, just in case.”
“Are they still there?”
Lars and I looked at each other – then hurried to the nearest waiting room that looked out over the parking lot.
The five cop cars that had escorted us earlier were pulling out of the parking lot, their lights flashing.
“…oh shit,” Lars muttered.
“The mass shooting is a distraction to draw away the police,”Niccolo said,“and to make sure no one will show up if anything happens at the hospital – at least not until it’s too late.”
Cold, icy fear welled up in my guts – but I kept my outward appearance calm.
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
“Either gird your loins and wait for them to come at you, or – ”
“Or what?”
“Leave.”
I was stunned. “What?!”
“If you’re not there, they can’t kill you.”
“I can’t move Alessandra right now,” I snapped. “She’s in a delicate state, and rushing her off would make it worse.”
“Leave her, then.”
Now I was outraged.
“WHAT?!”
“They want YOU, Dario. If you leave, they’ll follow you.”
“You want me to go out into the open and do a high-speed car chase through the streets of Florence?”
“I didn’t say we had any GOOD options.”
