Page 78 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

A fter that final irritating exchange with Fausto, I went outside to grab some fresh air.

When I walked out the back door, I found one of the foot soldiers on the porch, puffing on a cigarette.

Actually, he was way more than just a foot soldier; he was Fausto’s top lieutenant, the one who managed the foot soldiers.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” he replied, then looked away as he took a drag on his cigarette.

We’d probably only exchanged two dozen words since I’d come to work for Fausto. Still, I was always polite to Dante – and to any other foot soldier I was around.

Fausto was arrogant and aloof with them, and his attitude annoyed me. Frankly, it was stupid.

These people are putting their lives on the line for you, I wanted to tell him.

You might want to be nice to them in case they decide to STOP putting their lives at risk.

I walked down the brick steps and towards the field, intent on being alone.

Suddenly, Dante spoke up. “Can I ask you something?”

I turned around to look at him. “Yes?”

He hesitated.

“What?” I prodded.

“Is it true we’re going after Dario and the others?”

Ah.

Fausto had been worried that his men might not be unquestioningly loyal. The foot soldiers had chosen to follow Fausto once he had become a don – but that didn’t mean they hated Fausto’s nephews. Quite the contrary. Most of them still had a great deal of fondness for Dario, Niccolo, and the others.

As a result, Fausto had revealed as little as possible about what was going on… but I could tell it was eating away at morale for the men to be left in the dark.

“That’s something you should probably ask your boss,” I said.

Dante gave me a Cut the shit look. “I’m asking you.”

I glanced at the house.

I didn’t see Fausto anywhere near the windows.

“He didn’t tell you anything about what’s going on?” I asked.

“Fausto doesn’t tell me shit,” Dante said bitterly. “Which is why I’m asking you.”

It was probably unwise to undermine my boss…

But my boss was an asshole.

And if Dante owed me a favor for being honest with him…

I walked back towards the house so I didn’t have to speak so loudly to be heard. “This stays between you and me, understood? Don’t go telling anybody else. I mean it.”

Dante nodded. “Understood.”

“…yes,” I confirmed. “We’re going after Dario.”

He looked bewildered. “Why?!”

“Now, THAT you will have to ask the boss about.”

Dante didn’t say anything, but I could see the anger on his face.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

He looked at me suspiciously.

“I could get in a lot of trouble for telling you what I just did, you know,” I said.

From the look on Dante’s face, he seemed to grudgingly acknowledge that fact.

“What are you thinking?” I asked again.

“I’m not happy about it,” he said dourly.

“Why not?”

He still looked at me warily.

I walked back up the steps towards him. “Can I have one of those?” I asked, pointing at his cigarette.

I occasionally had a smoke when I went out for drinks. It had started with my coworkers in the restaurant business. So I wasn’t exactly a smoker, but I indulged every now and then.

I also knew that smokers tended to bond quickly, a connection not shared with nonsmokers. Walk outside any business in Italy, and you will always find a group of smokers huddled together, alone against the world.

I intended to use that to my psychological advantage.

Dante pulled out a pack from inside his jacket.

I put a cigarette between my lips, and he lit it for me.

“Whatever you say, it stays between you and me,” I said as I blew out a mouthful of smoke.

He looked at me distrustfully. “Oh yeah?” he said, but it sounded more like, Yeah, RIGHT.

“I swear it on my mother’s life,” I replied.

I didn’t think he’d care about my oath to Niccolo – On all my hopes and dreams for the future, and on the revenge I want on the men who betrayed me – but I figured swearing on my mother’s life might do the trick.

It did. He looked suitably impressed.

But he still wanted to know more.

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“If we’re going to take this all the way, I need to know how the rank and file feel about it.”

That seemed to placate him.

“We were never told we’d be going up against Dario,” he said bitterly. “That was never part of the deal.”

Once the floodgates were open, he didn’t stop. He told me everything.

Many of the men had families they had to leave behind in Tuscany.

“But Fausto won’t even let us call them,” Dante complained. “We can’t even turn our phones on! He says they could be traced, and no one can know where we are.”

I frowned as I thought of something –

Then filed it away for later.

“And the money’s not as good as it used to be,” Dante continued.

“When Don Leonardo was alive, we were paid well. When we cast our lots in with Fausto, he promised to pay us 5% more – and he did at first. But after a couple of months, we took a 20% cut because business was bad. ‘Just till it gets better,’ he promised – but it never gets better. Meanwhile, he’s driving around in a Rolls-Royce, but none of us have gotten paid since we left Tuscany. ”

I believed him.

I also knew it was only because Fausto was a fucking asshole. He’d just stolen 28 million euros from Niccolo and his brothers. He’d certainly had the cash to bribe Lau with a million euros, give Zollner a half million deposit, and wire a million to me in Macau.

If Fausto wanted to pay his men, he could have easily done it. But he was pinching pennies with them the same way he’d tried with me.

“He’ll pay you,” I said.

He’s a fool if he doesn’t.

“When?” Dante asked bitterly.

“I’ll speak to him about it.”

Dante looked at me in alarm. “No!”

“I’ll keep your name out of it,” I promised.

“No – just – don’t bring it up at all.”

“But – ”

“You swore on your mother’s life this would stay between you and me,” he said, a note of desperation in his voice.

“Okay – okay,” I relented.

Dante looked relieved.

“He going to pay you,” I promised. “He will.”

“…yeah,” Dante said in a bitter voice like he would believe it when he saw it.

Then he threw down his cigarette, ground it out under his heel, and walked away.

I walked back inside the house and searched until I found Fausto in his bedroom.

“I just talked to one of the foot soldiers who said you won’t let them call anybody,” I said.

“Who said that?” Fausto asked in irritation.

“I don’t know, some guy just mentioned it in passing,” I lied. “He said it was because the phone could be traced.”

“It could. Potentially.”

“But you’re using your phone. And Niccolo has your number – so why isn’t he tracking you?”

Fausto smirked. “Because I have various counter-measures in place. I make calls over the Wi-Fi network here, which is connected to a VPN, and I route them through a service I pay for in Rome. Anyone trying to trace the call will think we’re 300 miles away.”

“Why not let the men use it, then?”

He scoffed. “And have them tell their chatterbox wives where they are? Better to keep them in the dark.”

Wow.

I considered telling Fausto he had a serious morale problem brewing –

But something told me to keep that particular card close to my vest.

Instead, I asked, “Can I use this system of yours to make a call?”

“As long as you only call me, you don’t have to worry about your phone being traced.”

“I want to call Niccolo.”

Fausto frowned. “Why?”

“I’m trying to get him to fall in love with me, remember? I can’t do that if I’m incommunicado.”

Fausto glowered at me for a bit longer, then pulled a cheap cell phone out of a dresser drawer and tossed it to me. “Here, use this. It’s already set up on the network.”

I stared at the phone in my hand.

Fausto could have just as easily let his men use it to make a few calls and reassure their families –

But no.

That’s the kind of asshole I was working for.

“Don’t ever call Niccolo on your own phone,” Fausto instructed. “Only use the burner, and only when you’re here on the property.”

“Understood,” I said, then walked out of the room.