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His brother… not so much.
“What was the second time?” Adriano asked like he was interrogating me.
“There was a riot. Dario and I got jumped by a guy in the Camorra and five of his goons. I took care of three of them, Dario took care of the other two, and…” I paused as I remembered Dario slashing the guy’s throat. “…then he took care of the boss.”
“Aristide Caproni,” Massimo murmured.
I hadn’t heard that name in over two years. “Yeah. Him.”
Massimo whistled.
Adriano just nodded slightly, like he approved.
“Thank you for taking care of our brother,” Massimo said. His gratitude was real and heartfelt.
“You’re welcome… but truthfully, he took care of me just as much. I would’ve crossed the wrong person and been dead in a few months if he hadn’t befriended me and shown me the ropes.”
As Massimo and I chatted, I watched the cedars give way to olive groves and vineyards. Then we reached an open space amongst the trees and gardens, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.
I’d assumed Dario’s family was wealthy – but I hadn’t been expecting this.
At the top of the hill was a gigantic mansion, three stories tall with two large wings. It looked like something out of a movie.
Massimo pulled the car around a circular drive in front of the house. Two guys in black suits were standing outside. One was young, maybe 25; the other was middle-aged, around 45.
The young guy at least looked alert. The older guy was puffing on a cigarette like he was on a break.
When Massimo, Adriano, and I exited the car, the young guy raced over and got behind the wheel like a valet. He steered the car down the driveway and headed for a humongous building in the distance – what looked like a garage.
The 45-year-old nodded at Adriano and Massimo as they walked past. He eyed me curiously as he continued to puff on his cigarette.
Massive marble steps led up to a pair of bronze doors at the front of the mansion. Before we reached them, the doors opened and a clean-shaven guy in a white shirt walked out with a mischievous grin.
“The international man of mystery has arrived! I’m Niccolo – good to finally meet you!” he said as he took my hand and shook vigorously. “Lunch will be a little delayed – my uncle and father wanted to meet you first, but we’ll eat afterwards. Are you starving?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Good, good – come right this way.”
We entered a magnificent foyer with an enormous crystal chandelier. Niccolo turned right and headed towards a pair of closed wooden doors.
“See you later,” Massimo said as he and Adriano continued through the foyer and out of sight.
“They’re not coming with us?” I asked Niccolo.
“No, this will be a private meeting,” Niccolo said as he opened the wooden doors and walked through. “We have business to discuss.”
114
Iwalked into a parlor that reeked of money. The walls were made of dark wood paneling, black leather chairs sat in a circle around a central coffee table, and large windows had dark red curtains drawn back to let in the sunlight.
At the far end of the room was a massive wooden desk. Behind it sat a man in an exquisitely tailored suit jacket and an open-necked shirt. He looked very similar to Dario, except his hair and mustache were iron grey, and his wrinkled face suggested a life of stress.
Beside him stood another man, a few years younger and less worn down by time. He was solidly built but had a small gut beneath his three-piece suit. His hair was streaked grey at the temples, although some flecked his mustache and goatee. The eyes beneath his heavy brows were sharp and piercing, and they were always roving, always searching.
As I walked into the room, the older man stood, and a look of sublime happiness came over his face.
“You’re Lars?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
