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“You underestimate my people,” he said, his tone one of disappointment. “And omertà.”

Canidy looked at him a long moment. The Mafia’s code of silence was legendary. And he instantly recalled one of its greatest examples, a tale of savagery that involved none other than Charlie “Lucky” Luciano.

After getting snatched off the streets of New York City, Luciano was taken to a warehouse—then strung up, beaten, his throat cut. He was left for dead. The tough sonofabitch, though, worked free of his ropes. He crawled to the street, only to be picked up by cops from NYPD’s 123rd Precinct. No matter what they threatened him with, he refused to finger the goons who tried to whack him. The cops had to let him go. And Charlie Lucky settled the score with the wiseguy who had ordered the hit—successfully, and without breaking the code of silence.

“My apology,” Canidy said.

Nola waved his hand, the gesture saying That is unnecessary.

“Who can we get to right away, Frank?” Canidy said after a moment. “What about Professor Rossi’s sister, what was her name?”

“Diana.”

“She lives near here, right? I remember it being in this area.”

And nothing like this dump. It was clean, well-kept.

“Yes,” Nola said. “We would have to be very careful. When the SS discovered that the professor had disappeared, they would have gone looking for her, too.”

“In which case, she may not even be alive,” Fuller said, glancing at them from the window.

“Or she is in hiding,” Nola said. “I know that the professor warned her before we left.”

“Then the SS could have someone watching her place,” Canidy said.

Canidy suddenly had a terrifying realization, and added: “And maybe this place, too.”

Fuller automatically looked back out the window.

But, then, Canidy thought, maybe not this place.

They don’t know that Frank was involved with Rossi’s disappearance—might very well not even suspect it.

And this is Frank’s cousin’s house.

Despite Frank’s dramatics, the fact that the cousin and wife took off in a hurry could have a very simple—and innocent—explanation.

In which case, they’re just plain lazy slobs who have no trouble living in filth.

“I don’t think there’s real reason to worry about this place being watched,” Canidy said. “However, we shouldn’t discount it…or anything else, at this point.”

Nola and Fuller nodded their understanding.

They were quiet for some moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

“On the other hand,” Canidy said out of the blue, looking at Nola, “you getting caught might not be a bad thing.”

Nola and Fuller were shocked.

“You could become a pin on the map,” Canidy said by way of explanation. “Especially when I start funneling men and matériel in here for the resistance.”

Not to mention, he thought, if I give you to pass out the ten thousand bucks in dollars and lire tucked in my money belt.

Both men looked back with blank looks.

Canidy turned to Fuller.

“Weren’t you at the Sandbox when…Oh, hell. No, that was John Craig Whatshisname—”