I go check the zipper.
But I look back once more at Katya in the makeup chair. Katya's face becomes flawless. Camera-ready. A blank canvas for someone else's vision.
Her hands are still laced in her lap. Still white at the knuckles.
I don't know what I'm looking at. Not yet. But I know the shape of a girl who's afraid, because I've seen it in the mirror on mornings I don't talk about.
This is different. This is worse. I just can't say why.
Valentino
The café sits on a narrow street behind the Duomo, three blocks from Casa Aurelia.
I've been here four times this week.
The Pellegrini connection is solid. Dante's surveillance confirms Alfredo met with Pavla twice more since Genoa — once in Bergamo, once at a restaurant in Brera that the Basile family uses for informal business. Sergio's financial trail leads through three shell companies before it disappears into a holding group registered in Malta. I have the shape of the operation. I don't have the proof.
Not yet.
The espresso is good. I drink it and watch the street through the window. Foot traffic moves in both directions. Tourists with maps. Business people with briefcases. A delivery driver arguing into his phone.
I pull out my phone and call Luca.
He answers on the second ring. No greeting. Just silence that says he's listening.
"How's Sicily?" I ask.
"Done."
One word. That's Luca. The job in Catania was straightforward — a problem that needed to stop being a problem. I didn't ask for details. Luca doesn't offer them. The work is clean or it doesn't happen. That's the arrangement.
"I need you in Milan."
A pause. Luca is always calculating distances, timelines, logistics. His mind works like a machine that never turns off.
"When?"
"Soon as you can move. I'm looking at something here. It's getting larger than one person can watch."
"What kind of something?"
"The kind that needs your eyes. Surveillance. Multiple locations. Possibly multiple targets. I'll brief you when you arrive."
Another pause. I hear nothing on his end. Wherever Luca is, it's quiet. He could be in a hotel room. A safe house. A car on a dark road. With Luca, it's impossible to know and pointless to ask.
"I can be there in two days."
"Good. I'll send you an address for the apartment. Keep it clean — we're not announced here."
"Understood."
The line goes dead.
I set the phone on the table. Pick up the espresso.
I raise my hand for the waiter. He brings a second espresso without asking. I nod.
The door opens.
