Page 259 of Lars

He glanced over at me. “What?”

“Do you swear to me that if we don’t do it this way, it will only get worse? That by not killing this guy, it’s just going to bring down a shit-ton more trouble on our heads?”

“Remember when Aristide Caproni’s men attacked us, and I told you we had to kill them all, or it would only invite more reprisals?”

“Of course.”

“We’re in almost exactly the same situation right now.”

“But Aristide attacked us. This guy Fumagalli hasn’t done anything.”

Dario gave me a half-smile. “I realize it’s difficult to understand, but by trespassing on our territory without asking my permission, the Oldanis’ offense is almost worse. At least Aristide paid me the respect of confronting me face-to-face. The Oldanis hold me in such contempt that they think they can do whatever they want. Continuing to let them believe that is a serious mistake… and an invitation to try to kill us later.”

What Dario said made sense.

It was ugly…

But it made sense.

I sighed. “…all right. I’ll do it.”

A palpable sense of relief flooded the room.

“Are you sure?” Dario asked.

“…yeah,” I said grudgingly.

“If it makes it any easier for you,” Niccolo said, “Fumagalli’s a vicious sadist – a real piece of shit.”

I glared at him. “How convenient.”

“No, it’s true,” Valentino protested. “I met him at a wedding when I was 17. He got drunk and started telling me shit, like how he likes to torture people and record their screams for later. And after he’s done, he cuts off body parts and mails them to their relatives. ‘Keeps people in line,’ is what he told me.”

“Well, Jesus Christ,” I said loudly, “why didn’t you lead with that?”

The entire room laughed.

Niccolo slapped me on the back. “Don’t think of it as being our enforcer; think of it as performing a public service.”

“A public service which just happens to benefit you personally,” I said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Niccolo gave me an impish smile. “Hey – win-win.”

Dario put his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you.” I could hear the relief and gratitude in his voice.

“Thank me after it’s over,” I grumbled.

128

Idrove to Mensano alone, using Google Maps to guide me through the dark countryside.

Dario suggested having one of our foot soldiers drive the car, but I declined. If I got caught like in Lake Como, I didn’t want to drag anyone else down with me.

I took one of the bulletproof Mercedes. The man who oversaw the garage switched out the license plates with fakes so any eyewitnesses would identify the wrong car.

I was halfway to Mensano when I received a text from Niccolo.

Our guy says your friend is at a café on the way.

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