Page 184 of Niccolo

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Niccolo

Ilanded in Florence shortly after 8 PM and hailed a taxi at the airport.

After an hour of driving, I called the house when we were five minutes out and told them to open the gate.

The taxi driver stared at the orchards and vineyards as we drove past them. His jaw nearly dropped as we approached the mansion.

When he dropped me at the front portico, I paid him 500 euros and sent him on his way.

Adriano met me at the front door.

“We could’ve sent somebody to get you,” he growled.

“I would’ve had to switch cars at the gate, then – perfect opportunity for a sniper to shoot me.”

“I meant we could’ve sent somebody to the airport.”

“Perfect opportunity for Fausto’s men to waylay the car and kill anybody inside. I figured it was better to come here under the cover of anonymity.”

“IfI’dcome to get you, we could’ve killedtheminstead.”

“Oooh, I didn’t know I’d get thecapoof Florence as a chauffeur,” I teased.

“Fuck off,” he growled as he gestured for me to follow him. “Dario wants an update.”

“Any word from Massimo?” I asked.

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” he said glumly.

“Any other developments?”

“None to speak of.”

Dario was in the safe room, sitting at a desk they’d moved in while I was gone. He looked up from some papers he was perusing.

“Good to see you’re taking the possibility of assassination seriously,” I said.

“Mrm,” he grunted dourly. “How was – ”

“We need to go talk somewhere else,” I interrupted.

Dario raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just trust me. Adriano, can you come with us?”

“Sure.”

I led the way to the third floor, where we entered a hidden passageway and climbed dusty stairs to the attic.

I clicked on a single lightbulb, which illuminated dozens of storage boxes and furniture draped in sheets.

“What the fuck’re we doing up here?” Adriano growled.

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