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She left and called to say the call was ready.
Massimo stood from his seat and moved the conference phone closer to where the three men sat. He eyed his father for any last-minute messages. When there was none, he eyed his father for the signal to activate the call.
“Francesco,” Giordano said. “I'm here with my sons, Massimo and Giuseppe.”
“And I am here with the senior Mrs. Conti,” Francesco answered.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Giordano asked.
“Dispense with the pleasantries, Ricci,” Francesco quipped.
Costanza's brow pitched slightly, and there was the start of a gleam in her eyes. She liked his forthrightness. Maybe he was listening to her after all.
“We have a serious problem,” Francesco continued. “Our delivery in the Baltic has been stopped. They're floating in the middle of the damn ocean because of being turned away at the port.”
“And you are suggesting what?”
Giordano refused to prematurely accept responsibility for anything without proof.
“I'm suggesting that the recent breach of security your company suffered has a direct correlation to our floating ship,” Francesco insisted.
“I'm not sure how you've come to that conclusion,” Giordano reflected.
“Hold on,” Francisco interrupted. “Are you trying to suggest there's no correlation? Come on, Giordano. We both know better than that.”
“Maybe there's something amiss on your end,” Giordano suggested.
“Are you playing with me right now? Are you trying to play on my intelligence?”
“I'm doing nothing of the sort,” Giordano replied. “I'm merely suggesting that one may not have anything to do with the other.”
“Well, Gio, let me make a suggestion,” Francesco began. “You better look and see and then double check and see again whether this so-called breach reached our account and led to this stalemate at sea. Because if it does, and I hope for your sake it doesn't, but if it does, all hell will rain down on you and your security company.”
Chapter Eight
Francesco promptly disconnected the line.
“Well done, son.”
“Damn it!” Giordano was not pleased.
“We need to figure this out and now,” Giordano said just. Seppi nodded and put his focus on the computer. “Where are we on the security breach? How did they infiltrate our system?”
“I've got a meeting right after this one to confirm what I suspect,” Massimo iterated.
Isotta wanted to be able to talk to her mom about what she felt about her sister, but neither was a good option. It wasn't viable. She didn't have any friends, no confidants, nobody she could confide in. She had no one.
Isotta was filled with a lot of anguish. She needed a release to talk through what she went through. She made a decision to speak to the familiar, not the recently familiar, but familiar enough.
“I shall return,” Isotta said to Rosa.
“Be safe,” Rosa called out.
Isotta gave the address to her driver as she entered the back of the limousine. She held her rosary beads in her hand as they rolled. As they drew nearer to the church, she thought about having the driver turn around. Maybe she was making too big a deal of the situation. But she wasn't. So, she didn't. The kitten heels of her shoes clicked smartly against the highly polished floors of the sanctuary. She rubbed her rosary beads as she made the sign of the cross and kneeled before entering a pew and waiting her turn for the confessional to be vacated.
Isotta contemplated leaving. Maybe she made too big of a deal about what happened. And then the parishioner who had been occupying the confessional stepped out. Isotta looked around to see if anyone else was moving to take the parishioner's place, but none did. Isotta lifted herself from the pew and adjusted her veil to ensure her face was fully covered. She made her way to the confessional, peered over her shoulder to make sure no one else was headed that way, and then stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She sat down, and the screened portal between herself and the priest opened.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been years since my last confession.”
