Page 209 of Niccolo
“Who the fuck are you?”
Wonderful. I was dealing with a fuckin’ tough guy.
I didn’t want to say any words like‘consigliere’or‘don.’After all, what if the other person’s line was tapped, or I was speaking to a cop? So I kept it very vanilla.
“Niccolo Rosolini. I work for my brother, Dario Rosolini.”
“Ah. The Florentines. You’re the new consigliere.”
That response told me exactly who I was talking to.
Only someone highly placed in aCosa Nostrafamily would know who I was.
Foot soldiers certainly wouldn’t. My brother’s ascension to don was too recent for his name to be widely recognized amongst the lower ranks, and I was virtually unknown.
The speaker knew I was theconsigliere,and yet he was completely unconcerned.
Sicilians were a cold-blooded lot with brass balls… but a foot soldier would have immediately become respectful when he realized he was addressing aconsigliere.So would acapo.Otherwise, it could mean a beating – or worse – if he made diplomatic trouble for his boss.
But this guy?
He knew who I was, and he didn’t give a fuck.
Which meant that if he wasn’t theconsigliere…
He could only be one other person.
“Don Vicari, I presume,” I said respectfully. “My apologies – I thought I was calling yourconsigliere.”
“You were. Like I said, he’s not available.”
This was incredibly strange.
I’d been calling Marconi for days now with no reply.
And suddenly his boss picks up?
“I see,” I said, even though I didn’t see at all. “I wanted to let you know the truth about some recent events – ”
“What, the Agrellas?”Vicari scoffed.“Good riddance. If they let themselves get taken out that easily, they deserved it.”
…o-kaaaay…
“Regardless, we didn’t kill the Agrellas.”
“No? Who did?”
“A Sicilian named Mezzasalma.”
There was a short silence on the other end, followed by a grunt.“Hrm.”
Vicari didn’t sound shocked, exactly…
But hedidsound the slightest bit surprised.
“I’m assuming you’re familiar with him?” I asked.
“Yes. He worked for me.”
