Page 240 of Niccolo

“And Taormina,” I said.

“And Taormina! Please don’t – please!”

“Was there anything else?” Dario snarled.

“No! No, I swear! Please!”

Dario let go of Lazaro’s head and stepped back.

He took a long pause…

But he didn’t sheathe the knife.

“What did he pay you to betray me?” Dario asked, his voice calm again.

Lazaro hung his head and wept.

“What did he pay you?” Dario repeated.

“…ten thousand euros a month…” Lazaro choked out.

“So – what – about 60,000 euros total?”

“…yes…”

Dario sighed in disgust. He pulled the pocket square from his jacket and wiped his fingers with the silk cloth. Then he folded the switchblade back into the handle.

“Don’t torture him anymore,” Dario said to Adriano. “Take him out back and make it quick and painless.”

“That’s more than he deserves,” Adriano hissed.

“It is. But do it anyway.”

Dario turned to walk out –

“Please…” Lazaro begged. “Don Rosolini, please… spare my life…”

“I hope 60,000 euros was worth it,” Dario said simply, then left the room.

97

Iwalked with Adriano through the fields behind the house.

As I’d insisted, Dario stayed inside. I was still too spooked by the assassination attempt to risk him going out in the open.

Lazaro shuffled along in front of us, his hands bound behind his back. The rope tied between his ankles guaranteed he couldn’t run.

“Please… please don’t do this…” he pleaded through his tears.

“Shut the fuck up and keep walking,” Adriano snarled.

We entered the olive groves. Lazaro kept sniffling and begging, and Adriano kept yelling at him to be quiet.

Eventually, we reached one of our most trusted foot soldiers, Giorgio. He had stripped down to just his pants and shoes as he dug a grave in the hot summer sun. His white shirt hung over an olive tree branch. Sweat poured off his back as he shoveled dirt out of the hole.

As soon as Lazaro saw the grave, he screamed and tried to run –

But he forgot about the rope around his ankles.

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