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“No. It came as a message to my phone.”
“You always get your orders that way?”
“Yes. He messages the instruction. When the job’s done, I get paid.”
“This phone here? What’s the PIN?”
“Yes. And nine-two-oh-seven.”
Quickly, I check the PIN unlocks the phone, shove it in a jacket pocket then, my Glock still poised, juggle my own cell out, thumbing open to Romano’s number. “Sir, I've got one of them. The sniper across the street.”
“Good work, Hickman. Recognise him?”
“No, sir. He says Mancini hired him. You want to interrogate him?”
“No need. I’ve got the fake waiter. He’s already confirmed it was Mancini. I’m sure he’ll give me the rest of what I want to know very shortly.”
“And this one?”
“We don’t need him. Get rid of him.”
“Sir.”
Romano’s words are loud enough for my sniper to hear. His cheek pressed to the concrete, glaze-eyed, he’s trembling violently. “Will you make it quick?”
“I’m not a sadist. You were here to do a job. You failed.” And I pull the trigger.
CHAPTER THREE
Adrenaline is a great thing. When the body faces an emergency, the ability to acquire a superpower is irreplaceable. But now that the emergency is over, I can think…
Romano paces, white-faced and furious. “How dare they? How fucking dare they?”
Armando watches our mutual employer with caution in his eye, exchanges a glance with me.
I interrupt his pacing. “Sir, the real question is how they knew.” He halts, staring at me, eyes white-rimmed. “They had the fake waiter in place. They had a sniper in position. They knew you'd be there, sir.”
He snarls quietly. “That sniper could have been waiting for days. I use La Dolce Vita regularly.” He shrugs, jaw clenching. “Fuck! It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t build up habits.”
“What about the waiter, sir? He replaced the real Guiseppe. They knew there would be a fresh face in there to cause confusion. Who told them? For that matter, do we know where the real Guiseppe is?”
Romano calms, blows out his cheeks. “He’s okay. In hospital. He was found tied and gagged in his own apartment. He’d had a blow to the head but isn’t seriously injured. A mild case of concussion. They say he’ll be fine in a day or two. I gather he’s more shaken that it could have happened at all.”
“You can hardly blame him. Who’d think being a waiter could be dangerous?” Romano raises brows, nodding thoughtfully. I continue. “Do we know how the attack happened? He lived by himself? When he has family here? Could one of the family be the leak?”
Romano sucks at his teeth. “That's an unpleasant idea. I'd not like to think Emilio had a traitor in the camp. I rather like the old man.”
“It could have been quite innocent,” I say. “Who’d think it controversial to mention a new family member joining the staff? I imagine everyone in the restaurant knew there'd be an unfamiliar face joining them. He only had to get away with it for half an hour.”
“Maybe. But right now, it’s not your problem.” He fixes an eye on me. “What did you do with the sniper?”
“Bagged him up and dumped him at the landfill site.”
Romano nods slowly, staring down, then, “Hickman, I want you to get Katya out of here until this is resolved.”
“Me, sir?”
“Yes, you, Hickman. I need men I know I can trust. Armando here will help me in the search for our leak. You are responsible for keeping Katya out of harm’s way.”
