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Leonardo looked at me with increased respect.
Even Fausto’s attitude changed considerably.
“Plus, there were probably another five men in San Vittore I had to kill over the last three and a half years… including two of Aristide Caproni’s men when he attacked me and Dario.”
Leonardo looked over at Fausto in amusement. “Still questioning his qualifications?”
“Well… there’s a caveat,” I said.
Leonardo looked back at me. “Oh?”
“There’s a term we use in the military: righteous kill. It’s where you don’t kill an enemy combatant unless he’s an immediate threat to you, to one of your men, or to a civilian. Usually, that means he drew a weapon with the intent to use it. I would prefer not to be put in a situation within your organization where I would have to… not make a righteous kill.”
“A killer with morals,” Fausto said sarcastically.
“Fausto,” Leonardo reproached him.
“What? He only wants to do what he’s told if a priest blesses it?” Fausto asked indignantly. Then he turned to me. “You realize your moral qualms somewhat limit your usefulness.”
“Actually, not at all,” I replied.
“Is that so,” Fausto sneered.
“When I was in Afghanistan, one of my biggest responsibilities was to train the Afghan Armed Forces to fight against the Taliban,” I explained. “I was an instructor, and a damn good one.”
“As I recall,” Fausto snarled, “the Afghanis didn’t stand up to the Taliban very well when the Americans pulled out.”
“You’re right – but not because they weren’t trained. It was because they lacked a reason to fight. They weren’t going to die for a corrupt government that didn’t give a shit about them, so they ran instead.”
Fausto and I got into a staring match, but Leonardo ended it.
“What would you train our men to do?” the mafia don asked.
“Things like better shooting, hand-to-hand combat, physical conditioning, how to clear a building occupied by enemy combatants… but frankly, first I would address security. You need to run a tighter ship around here. No disrespect intended.”
“How do you mean?” Leonardo asked.
“Adriano frisked me for weapons, which was good, but he didn’t check my legs. I could have been carrying a knife in a boot and he wouldn’t have found it. I realize you trust me, and I appreciate that – but really, you shouldn’t have trusted me. No one here verified who I was when I showed up. No one asked for my passport, and I’m assuming Dario didn’t send you a picture to confirm my identity.”
“He described you to us,” Niccolo said defensively.
“What, that I was blond with a beard?” I asked. “I got popped in Lake Como because they had a mugshot of a thief who was also blond with a beard… and looked nothing like me. No offense to you or Adriano, but there should have been more stringent verification of who I was.”
Niccolo and Fausto looked annoyed, but Leonardo gestured with his hand. “Go on.”
“I’m also highly trained in hand-to-hand combat. Without any false modesty, I’m deadly in close quarters. To be clear, I’m NOT threatening you – but if I wanted, I could kill all three of you before someone got here to stop me.”
Fausto sat up straight, as did Niccolo.
Leonardo just smiled. “Simmer down, you two. If he wanted us dead, we’d already be dead.”
I nodded at him. “Thank you. But just to be clear, from now on, any stranger who gets within 50 feet of you should be assumed to be an assassin. And they should be guarded accordingly.”
“Continue.”
“Adriano should have had a gun on me at all times while we were in the car. I saw he had a pistol under his jacket. I could have killed him, taken his weapon, and shot Massimo before either of them could have stopped me. Better yet, I should have been in the front seat with Adriano in the backseat pointing a gun at the back of my head.
“When we drove up to your house, there were only two guards. One of them looked like he was out there on a smoke break, and the other one – a young guy – was acting more like a valet. There should have been four men out there, minimum, and even if they didn’t have a gun on me, their guns should have been out so they could kill me if I made the slightest move.
