Page 25 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

I was sleeping in a guest room a couple nights later when a sharp rap at the door woke me.

“…who is it?” I asked in sleep-addled alarm.

“The boss wants you down in the library right away,” a man’s voice said through the door.

Probably one of the foot soldiers.

As he walked away, I checked the time on my phone –

2:47 AM.

Jesus.

I hastily dressed and went down to the study to find Fausto sitting behind his desk in silk pajamas and a smoking robe. Aurelio sat on a nearby chair dressed in slacks and a t-shirt.

“You took long enough,” Aurelio snapped.

“Stop,” Fausto shushed him. It was obvious he didn’t have time for his son’s usual bullshit. Then he turned to me. “There’s been an interesting development.”

“What?”

“My nephew Niccolo just called me to inform me – after it was all over – ” Fausto said grumpily, “that Lars performed a hit in my territory.”

I froze. “…what?”

“Lars killed somebody,” Aurelio sneered, as though I was too stupid to understand the obvious.

I ignored him and instead asked Fausto, “Who?”

“A man named Umberto Fumagalli. He is – was – the Enforcer for the Oldanis, the Cosa Nostra family who run Genoa.”

I stared at Fausto. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“For Dario? Ordinarily, yes. Such an action could have sparked a war. But technically, Fumagalli wasn’t supposed to be there, so it’s a grey area. But that’s not the interesting part.”

I waited for the big reveal, knowing he wanted to gloat.

Fausto smiled. “Guess who called me three hours before the hit to ask my permission for Fumagalli to enter my territory.”

“The Oldanis?”

“No. The Turk.”

“…what?!”

“Not only that, he called me 15 minutes ago in a panic and told me everything.” Fausto laughed. “Remember how you thought he was hiding something? Now we know what it was. Apparently, there was a girl at the café where Fumagalli died who might just be the Oldanis’ long-lost granddaughter.”

I stared at Fausto in shock. “How the fuck does that happen?”

“It seems that 20 years ago, the Oldanis’ only daughter eloped with a male servant. The Turk found out they had a baby and that the woman died a few years ago. Fumagalli was at the café to see if the owner was the male servant who ran away with the daughter. Then Lars unexpectedly intervened.”

“Was all of this common knowledge?”

“No. The Turk pieced it together during his business conversations with various Cosa Nostra families.”

I struggled to connect the dots. “So the Turk was working with the Oldanis?”

“Not exactly. They loaned him Fumagalli, but they didn’t know why, exactly. The Turk told them it was to identify an old business associate of theirs.”

“Do they know about the girl?”

“No. She was supposed to be a surprise – a gift to cement a long and prosperous working relationship. Of course, now that’s all shot to hell.”

“So – you want to use the girl as a pawn?” I asked, glancing at the chessboard with the pictures of the brothers and Lars.

“Unfortunately, that’s all shot to hell, too,” Fausto griped. “The Turk told me Dario showed up half an hour ago and took her with him.”

“Does Dario know who she is?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“I didn’t even know who she was until 15 minutes ago.”

“Then why did Dario take her?”

“Probably as leverage. My guess is the father’s terrified of the Oldanis and wouldn’t talk, so Dario took the girl instead of torturing the information out of the father.”

“Soft,” Aurelio sneered.

“Indeed,” Fausto agreed.

I forced myself to ignore their repugnant comments. Instead, I focused on the opportunity in front of us. “So the Turk is fully on our side now? I mean, he spilled his guts to you, right?”

Fausto chuckled and picked up a black rook from the chessboard. “It would seem we’ve secured an ally.”

“We should use the tunnel,” Aurelio said to his father. “Send in a team and wipe them all out!”

Fausto shook his head. “Our foot soldiers will never attack Dario and the others. You know that.”

“Then get the Turk to supply the men!”

“He’ll never find the entrance just from a description,” Fausto replied. “Even I couldn’t tell you exactly where the tunnel lets out.”

I frowned. “Wait – what tunnel?”

“There’s a secret tunnel that leads from the house to the grounds outside,” Fausto said off-handedly. “An escape hatch in case anyone attacks the mansion.”

“What the fuck?!” I snarled. “You didn’t think to mention that to me earlier?!”

“Watch your tone, consigliere,” Fausto said coldly.

Aurelio grinned with undisguised glee at the rebuke. I hated him a little bit more but forced myself to calm down. “That would have been good information to have, is all I’m saying.”

“We can’t use it because if the scheme fails, my nephews will trace it back to us,” Fausto said dismissively.

“Then we make sure they can’t trace it back to us.”

“And how do we do that?” Fausto asked contemptuously.

“The girl from the café – did she go willingly?”

Fausto scoffed. “Would you go willingly if three mafiosos showed up in the middle of the night, right after you witnessed a stranger get gunned down in cold blood?”

“So she’s a hostage – which means she’ll want to escape. Have the old Sicilian woman show the girl the tunnel, then have the Turk pick her up and retrace her steps. Even if the Turk fails, there’s no way they can trace it back to you.”

Fausto stared at me for a second –

Then broke out in a broad smile and pointed his finger at me. “Genius.”

Aurelio didn’t like hearing me praised. “It was my idea.”

“And an excellent one, too,” Fausto consoled him. “We just needed the final piece to make it work.”

I grimaced.

Mediocre men always seemed to want to steal the credit due a woman.

I reminded myself that credit didn’t matter. All that mattered was the 10 million euros waiting for me when those mafia assholes were dead.

“This girl from the café,” I said to Fausto. “What’s her name?”

“Not that it matters… but it’s Alessandra.”