Page 301 of Marcello

Adriano pointed at Niccolo. “He didn’t get the message until it was too late.”

“Yes, yes,” Niccolo snapped, “let’s all blame the consigliere. Look, Marcello, if we can’t get in by brute force, and we can’t get in by air, then you’re going to have to sneak us in.”

“It’s not going to work,” I insisted.

“Maybe you can dig us a tunnel underground,” Niccolo said sarcastically. “You are a mole, after all.”

My eyes widened.

Niccolo saw my reaction. “What?”

“There actually might be a way.”

I explained about the tunnel system underneath Naples that had been dug by the ancient Greeks and Romans. Then I told them about the well on the property, and how it was probably connected to the ancient aqueducts.

“How do you know all this?” Adriano asked.

“Because I used to give tours.”

“Tours?” Adriano asked contemptuously.

“You asked how I knew, so I’m telling you,” I snapped.

“Marcello’s right,” Niccolo said.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

“Naples is famous for its underground tunnels,” Niccolo explained. “During World War II, they used them for bomb shelters.”

“That’s right!” I agreed.

“However, I was under the impression that the tunnels were an immense underground labyrinth.”

“…oh… yeah, that’s true,” I admitted. “Nobody knows for sure, but some people think it could stretch for 280 miles.”

“We’re going to have to go 280 fuckin’ miles to get to this place?!” Adriano barked.

“No, it’s several different levels, and it doubles back on itself continually,” I explained. “To get to the Amatos’ castle, it’d probably be five or six miles at most.”

“Five or six miles… underground,” Adriano said incredulously. “In complete darkness.”

“You can use lights, you know.”

“Are we going to even fuckin’ fit?”

“The passageways were used to mine building materials. They had to be able to get huge blocks of stone in and out, so yeah, you’ll fit.”

“That’s not the question,” Niccolo said. “The question is, are you able to guide us through the maze?”

“No.”

“Then what was the fuckin’ point of bringing it up?” Adriano barked.

“Because I might know somebody who can.” I paused. “If he’s not dead, and if we can find him.”

“We can find anybody,” Niccolo said confidently. “What’s his name?”

“’O Munaciello.”