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.”

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