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“All I know is, Salata’s dead. I don’t know who takes over.”
“You,” said Bell.
“Thank you! Thank you, padrone—I mean, Father. Thank you, I’ll do good, I promise . . . Can I ask ya something?”
“What?” said Bell.
“There’s funny talk on the street about the Branco store blowing up. Does this have anything to do with us?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know. I hear maybe Branco is Black Hand. Is that so?”
“What if he is?” asked Bell.
“I don’t know.”
Bell let silence build between them. Rizzo started fidgeting, tugging his mangled ear. Bell spoke suddenly.
“Did you do what I told you last?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you did.”
“I did what you said.”
“Tell me exactly what you did.”
“I went to Storm King. I opened a saloon. I got my keys scaring the pick and shovel men. And all that time I waited for the guy to come with the sign.”
“What sign?”
“The sign you said to look for.”
“Which?”
“The one you said. The pay token with the mark.”
“Did he come?”
“Yeah. I did everything he told me.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I told you to stick close.”
“No you didn’t.”
Bell let a silence build. Rizzo broke it.
“You told me to do what he said. I gave him what he wanted. I ain’t seen him since.”
“What did he want?”
“Clothes, food, stick of dynamite.”
