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“Okay,” Corvo replied more than a little dubiously.

“Stan Fine says you have people, connections?” It was more a statement than a question.

Corvo looked somewhat surprised, then said, “In Sicily? Sure I do. My family is there”—he motioned at Scamporino in the chair—“Vincent’s is. And Victor Anfuso’s. Most of the men with me do. They’re their uncles, grandparents, cousins, whatever.” He shrugged. “AFHQ told us to get ready, but until they give us the go-ahead that we can get in there we’re screwed. So we just train here with the French Resistance teams and wait.”

Canidy snorted.

“Not good enough,” he said.

Corvo stiffened.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Corvo said.

Canidy glanced at Darmstadter, who shook his head slightly.

Yeah…I don’t need to get off on the wrong foot here, Canidy thought.

“I mean,” Canidy went on in a calm, reasonable tone, “that I can’t wait for that.”

“I have to for all kinds of reasons, not just AFHQ,” Corvo said, feeling the need to explain. “Look, I could bring only ten recruits from the States; that’s Vincent and Victor and eight others. We’re assembling teams, and training them, as best we can. We found some Sicilians among the prisoners of war that were liberated here and are trying to integrate them.”

“Are they good?” Canidy said.

“They’re taking a lot of work,” Scamporino offered. “But I can tell you that they’re motivated. And a couple are quite ruthless. I don’t know who they hate more, Hitler or Mussolini.”

“Have you been able to tell if any of them, maybe these ones you call ruthless, are connected with the Mafia?”

“No,” Corvo immediately replied. It was as if he had been expecting the question. “I can’t work with the Mafia.”

Canidy looked at him. “Can’t or won’t?”

Corvo crossed his arms on his chest.

“I made it clear back in Washington,” he said emphatically, “that anyone with connections to the Mafia cannot be trusted, and that the Sicilians we do have—our relatives, their extended family, and others—are.”

Canidy nodded as he considered that.

He profoundly believes that, he thought. Maybe he’s right. But I can’t rely on it, and it’s not worth arguing now. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be too impressed right now if I shared with him my letter of introduction from Luciano….

“Do you have any teams close to being ready to go?” Canidy said.

Scamporino shook his head.

“Not even close,” Corvo added. “But we have plenty of time.”

Canidy grunted.

“Maybe you do,” Canidy said.

“What’s that mean?”

“I told you, I’m in a hurry. I don’t have the luxury of time.” He thought for a moment. “At the risk of this next question annoying you, too, I’ll say it, anyway.”

Canidy noticed that Corvo was practically glaring at him.

“What are the odds,” Canidy went on, “that one of these former POWs of yours is a V-männer?”

“A what?” Scamporino said.