Page 37

37

JOAO

T he next morning, we check out of our hotel and cross the border into Germany. There’s a checkpoint on the A6, as Mathilde predicted, but the officer barely gives our fake passports a glance before waving us through.

We arrive in Berlin by noon. The first thing we do is find a computer store and buy a couple of laptops and a half dozen burner phones. Then we check into a hotel, even though we have no intention of spending the night, and put our plan into action.

I go first. Using one of my burner phones, I dial Daniel’s number. It doesn’t even ring once before it’s picked up, but it’s not Daniel’s voice that comes through the receiver. It’s the padrino himself.

“Joao,” he says, sounding relieved beyond measure. “Thank fuck you’re alive. We’ve been frantic with worry.”

Why is Antonio picking up Daniel’s phone? “You have?”

“Of course we have,” he responds. “For fuck’s sake, I thought you were dead. Your phone was out of commission, and your car hasn’t been moved all week. Then there are the rumors of gunmen breaking into Zaworski’s party, plus all of Poland is on high alert?—”

Guilt surges in me at the obvious worry in his voice. I’m not used to anyone except Stefi giving a shit about me. “I’m fine. I needed to lie low for a while.”

“So much so you couldn’t check in?” he demands. “And where’s Stefania? Are you with her? Where are you now?”

Stefi’s listening to this conversation with an intent look on her face. When Antonio mentions her name, she stiffens, and I can already predict what she’s thinking. She’s convinced the padrino wants my location so he can send troops to kill her. I don’t agree. To my ears, Antonio sounds genuinely concerned for our safety.

“Yes. We had a little bit of trouble, but we’re in Berlin now. I’m bringing her in, but?—”

“I can send a plane to pick you up in three hours. Dante and Goran are ready to pull you out.”

We predicted he might say that. “Not in Berlin,” I reply. I hate the idea of lying to the padrino, but if we’re to find out where the leak is coming from, I need to stick to our plan. “I might have picked up a tail, and I need to lose them first. Can Dante and Goran meet us in Nuremberg?”

“Sure. What address?”

Stefi and I thought long and hard about our plan. The obvious trap was to give each side a different location as bait, stake out those spots, and see who bit. But there was one crucial flaw with that approach; we would have to be separated, each one of us monitoring a different spot, and I flat-out refused to let her out of my sight.

So instead, we picked two locations in the same suburban shopping center on the outskirts of Nuremberg. One is a coffee shop, and the other is a Thai restaurant. There’s a parking lot across the street where we can stake out both establishments. It’s not ideal—we chose the shopping center by looking at a map online instead of doing an in-person recon—but it’ll have to do.

I reel off the address of the coffee shop. “Got it,” Antonio replies. “When?”

“Tomorrow. Eleven in the morning.”

“Dante and Goran will be there.” He exhales in a long breath. “See you tomorrow, Joao. Until then, do me a favor and stay safe. I would hate to lose you.”

He hangs up, and I stare at Stefi, who’s biting her lip and looking as conflicted as I feel. “One down, one to go.”

The padrino sounded almost frantic with worry. He must be to send his second-in-command, Dante, to pull me out. I’ve been in Venice for five years, and I’m still not used to the idea of someone caring about me. To Henrik, we were tools to be used until we broke and carelessly discarded when we were no longer functional.

But Antonio’s never been that way. He values each and every member of his organization. I’m pretty sure his concern was real.

And if it’s not. . .

I guess we’ll find out in Nuremberg.