"How long," Claudio says.
A pause.
"That's not enough time."
Another pause. Longer.
"Aurelio said that specifically?"
I lean against the counter and listen. I shouldn't. This is operational, not meant for me. But I'm the reason we're out here. I'm the reason he left his brother and his compound and his armory full of weapons that make more sense to him than people do. I've earned the right to eavesdrop.
"What about Salvatore?"
My ears sharpen. Salvatore. He's mentioned the name once before, the night we left. Something about the card system, access levels, clearance codes.
"When did he ask that?" Claudio's voice has changed. Not louder. Harder. The consonants landing heavier, the vowels tighter. The sound of a man hearing something that confirms a theory he was hoping to be wrong about.
A long pause. Emilio talks. I catch fragments through the speaker. Something about questions. Something about location. Something about Charlotte.
My name. In Emilio's voice. Through a phone, through a wall, in a farmhouse in the mountains.
Claudio is quiet for a long time. When he speaks again, his voice is very controlled.
"He asked where she is. By name."
Not a question. A confirmation. I press my fingers to the back of my neck and count.
"Don't confront him," Claudio says. "Don't change behavior. Don't tip him. We need Charlotte to see his face and confirm before we move. If we're wrong and we spook the real mole, we lose the only advantage we have."
Emilio says something. Short.
"I know it's not enough time. I'll make it enough." A pause. "What about the Castillo situation?"
More talking. I catch the wordsdocksandcleanupandnews.The war continuing without them. The world grinding forward while we hide in the mountains and pretend the clock isn't ticking.
"And the club? The bartender?"
A pause. Then Emilio says something that makes Claudio exhale through his nose. His frustration tell.
"Follow up when you can. It might be nothing. But if Salvatore's network extends to the civilian businesses, we need to know which ones."
The call ends. I hear him set the phone down. The couch creaks as he stands.
He appears in the kitchen doorway. His face is the blank mask again. Full soldier. The man who held me in the dark and shook against my skin is filed away behind the mafia interface.
"Aurelio's clock is up tomorrow night," he says. "Seventy-two hours. Leone bought us time, but it's running out. If we don't bring proof of the mole, Aurelio starts handling it his way."
"And his way is?"
"Loud. Indiscriminate. He'll pull everyone with security access into interrogation and work them until someone breaks. And if the real mole is smart enough to survive that, which they are if they survived Renzo getting caught, then all Aurelio accomplishes is showing his hand."
I set my mug down. "You said Salvatore."
His eyes narrow. "You were listening."
"You were talking ten feet away in a house with no doors. Listening wasn't optional."
The corner of his mouth moves. Not a smile. The acknowledgment of a point scored.
