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“Those are just my observations. I believe your men should be trained to anticipate threats and respond accordingly, and I think your security detail could be immensely improved. I could help you with all of those things.”
Leonardo smiled and looked over at Fausto, who shrugged and made a face like, He’s got a point.
Niccolo seemed fairly impressed.
Then Leonardo looked at me and said, “Barring any issues that pop up with your past… which we’ll still have to look into… I would like to hire you to do exactly what you suggested. To train my men and turn them into a world-class operation.”
I bowed my head slightly. “It would be my honor.”
Leonardo grinned. “Good! Business is settled – now it’s time for lunch. Come, we’ve set the table on the back porch. It’s a beautiful day – and it’s time for you to meet the rest of the family.”
115
Lunch was behind the mansion on a patio. We had a magnificent view of a vast lawn, an enormous swimming pool, and beautiful topiary gardens.
All nine of us sat around a large stone table: me, Adriano, Massimo, Niccolo, Leonardo, Fausto, and three other men I hadn’t met, but whom I’d heard plenty about from Dario.
Roberto sat to my right. He was the spitting image of Niccolo, except he wore a three-piece suit without a tie, and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. He was just like Dario had described him: pleasant, affable, looked like a banker, and was completely enigmatic.
Then there was Valentino, the youngest of the lot. All the brothers were handsome, but Valentino had the ‘pretty boy’ look of a pop singer or movie star. He was by far the most carefree of the younger men, and he joked with the servants as they brought out platters of food and refilled our wine glasses. I noticed he joked more with the female servants – especially the youngest and prettiest, a buxom girl with a pixie cut. Whenever he flirted with her, she blushed and barely managed to suppress a grin.
Then there was Aurelio, Fausto’s son, who was about the same age as Niccolo and Roberto. He had an air of bitterness about him and watched me like a hawk the entire time.
The food was excellent – platters of cold cuts, cheeses, and olives, followed by pasta side dishes and the most succulent, flavorful lamb chops I’d ever eaten. And the wine was magnificent: a delicious red with hints of cloves and cinnamon.
Leonardo sat at the head of the table and made me tell stories about my time with Dario in San Vittore. It was clear he wanted ‘adventures’ – stories of comradery in the face of overwhelming odds.
I didn’t consider them ‘adventures’ so much as survival stories set in a hellhole of squalor and violence – but I did my best to make them more entertaining and not quite as grim as I remembered.
“Did you really kill Aristide Caproni?” Valentino asked at one point, his eyes wide. He looked like a kid talking to a fighter pilot or astronaut.
“How do you think he got the job?” Fausto said with a smile.
Fausto might have been rude and sarcastic back in the parlor, but I noticed that he was now more complimentary and respectful. I chalked up his earlier antagonism to his role as consigliere, which probably included being a Devil’s Advocate.
“Actually, no,” I said. “It was your brother who killed Aristide.”
My stomach turned as I remembered Dario slitting the gangster’s throat and his blood pouring out over the concrete.
Nobody noticed my unease, least of all Valentino.
“Dario did it?!” he exclaimed. “Holy shit…”
“Lars is being modest,” Leonardo said. “He took down three of Aristide’s goons. Dario took down the other two and Aristide, but he couldn’t have done it without Lars.”
“Why didn’t you handle Aristide?” Aurelio asked me.
There was something snide in his tone, as though he was insinuating I was incompetent – or a coward.
“Careful, son,” Fausto warned with a smile. “Our guest has killed over 40 men. I’d use a more deferential tone if I were you.”
That got the table’s attention.
Both Adriano and Massimo looked at me wide-eyed like What the FUCK?
“FORTY GUYS?!” Valentino exclaimed with both laughter and astonishment.
“I was a sniper in Afghanistan,” I explained. “You tend to rack up a lot of numbers in an environment like that.”
