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Just as half a dozen more men in suits rushed into the room, pistols at the ready.
I immediately dove to the ground beside the Widow.
I was afraid her men would shoot first and ask questions later.
“COME OUT NOW!” one of them yelled.
I was about to shout, Don’t shoot, I’m on your side –
When the Widow beat me to it.
“STOP, you fools!” she roared in a voice that didn’t match her frail body. “He saved my life!”
Footsteps clattered across the dais –
And I looked up to see a half-dozen guns pointed at my head.
One of the men knelt down, scooped up the Widow, and set her on her feet.
I stayed where I was and gently slid the gun across the floor.
“Put your guns away!” she snarled. “You idiots couldn’t do your job when it mattered, so stop pretending to do it now!”
Embarrassed, the men put their guns away. I finally stood up.
“What happened?” one of the suits asked.
“What do you think happened?!” the Widow shouted as she gestured at the four dead intruders. “Someone smuggled in assassins!”
“Signora Fioretti,” I said, “I saw someone leave the room while you and I were talking – a man with salt-and-pepper hair. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but – ”
“Giotto,” she hissed, then scowled at her men. “Go find him, now!”
Half of the men raced out of the room as fast as they could.
I bent down to pick up the gun I’d left on the floor –
“Unh-unh,” one of the suits warned, his hand on his holster.
“Let him have it,” the Widow snapped. “He’s the only man here who knows how to use one.”
“But ma’am,” the suit said as he looked at me sideways, “he might be involved in – ”
“If his aim were to kill me,” she snarled, “it’s rather odd that Signor Rosolini just saved my life, wouldn’t you agree?”
Though she was small, the Widow was vicious. It was like watching a cobra made out of black lace rear up and flare its hood.
The henchman didn’t say anything else as I picked up the gun.
The Widow stared down at her dead consigliere. The rail-thin man was sprawled out on the floor, a shocked look on his face as a puddle of crimson slowly oozed out from his head.
“Silvio was my consigliere for 17 years,” she said. “Where will I find another as cunning as him?”
It struck me that her attitude seemed more like exasperation than grief.
I walked over to the nearest intruder and unclipped his helmet’s chin strap.
“What are you doing?” the Widow asked as I pulled the helmet off, followed by his balaclava.
