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The guard opened the door. “Everything okay?”
“We’re through in here,” Bernardi snarled. “Take this piece of shit back to the sewer where he belongs.”
The guard gestured to me, and I stood up and walked over to the door.
“You just signed your death warrant, Andersen,” Bernardi said with an ugly laugh.
“You know what… I changed my mind,” I said.
Bernardi looked startled. “…yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t go fuck yourself – go fuck your mother.”
If the guard hadn’t been there, I think Bernardi would have tried to beat me to death.
As I walked down the hall, the detective screamed out behind me, “I hope you enjoy having your rectum resized, you fucking piece of shit!”
As I walked away, I just raised one hand in the air and flipped him the bird.
The guard chuckled behind me. “You’re dumb as shit, Andersen… but I gotta give it to you, you got balls.”
“No,” I replied. “I’m just not a fuckin’ rat, is all.”
102
When I walked back into the cell, Dario was sitting in a chair reading a recent bestseller on economics – something he got smuggled in from outside, not from the prison library.
He looked up. “Who was it?”
I sighed and sat down. “I need a drink first.”
He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to me. “Well?”
“It was a cop from Milan. He was looking for dirt on you… and he offered to spring me from prison if I’d testify against you.”
Dario’s eyes widened. “Really.”
“Yeah. He wanted me to hang Caproni on you… or anything, really. He just wanted you to never get out of San Vittore.”
Dario was very still. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him to go fuck himself. Then I told him, ‘No, wait – go fuck your mother instead.’”
Dario burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“No,” I said.
He stopped laughing. “You really told him that?!”
“Yeah.”
“If you’d cooperated,” Dario said quietly, “you could get out and see Rachel.”
“Yeah, well… it’s not worth selling my soul.”
Dario grinned like the cat who ate the canary.
I frowned. “What?”
