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“The whole day?”
I find that hard to believe. It’s not like my feisty wife not to get up to mischief.
Gianni shifts forward on his seat and leans his elbows on his knees. “She did walk around the house in the afternoon and checked out the view but not for long.” He shrugs. “It was cold.”
“That’s it?” I drink the strong coffee, enjoying the welcome warmth that settles in my stomach.
“Yes.” He frowns. “Where would she go without a car? It’s not like there’s a neighbor she can visit.”
“Fine,” I say. “From now on, I want hourly reports. Daily ones won’t cut it.”
His shoulders slouch. “Every hour?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Are you serious?”
I give him a hard look. “Would I be joking?”
Uncle Enzo slides a gaze in Gianni’s direction with an unspoken message in his eyes. “He’ll be happy to do it.” His voice is hard. “Won’t you, Gianni?”
“Yes, of course,” my cousin says, the pleat between his eyebrows deepening.
When I fix him with a glare, he stares at his hands.
I turn to my uncle. “This contact of yours, how trustworthy is he?”
“Very,” Uncle Enzo says. “He’s one of our best informants in the force.”
I finish my coffee and put the mug aside. “Who recruited him?”
“Nico.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I consider that. “How did they meet?”
“Someone on the street got word that a crooked cop was taking bribes.”
“How can you be sure he’s not double-crossing us?”
“I questioned him myself.” Uncle Enzo stands and looks me in the eyes. “He doesn’t have a conscience, that one. He’s frustrated with the low pay and less than desirable working conditions. You know how tough it is to be a cop on the drug beat in Marseille these days.”
“Is he a junkie?”
“No.” Uncle Enzo goes to the espresso machine and pushes the button to wake it up. “We checked for signs of use.”
“Good. Addicts are unreliable. They’re driven by their addiction, not by their brains. We don’t want to get caught up in that mess.”
“Right,” he says, riding on the balls of his feet as he waits for the water to heat.
“Where are we meeting him?” I ask.
“At the old harbor. A small café. The owner is one of ours.”
I nod. “Get our men lined up. I want five in the café and ten in the street. Armed. Let the café owner know I want the security recording after the meeting. You never know when it’ll come in handy. It’s always good insurance in case our contact grows a conscience and decides to talk.”
“Or if another party offers him more money,” Uncle Enzo says.
“Exactly. Do a proper scouting of the area before we arrive. Make sure it’s clean.”
