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"Perhaps," says Dario, nodding. "We need to find out his motivations, if not the crime itself. Sometimes, the answers lie in that alone."
Our conversation turns into a masterclass on strategy, as Dario delves deeper into historical battles and famous leaders. The words flow effortlessly between us, like a dance fueled by our shared passion for the subject. As we speak, I can't help but draw parallels to our own situation, each of us fighting for the truth.
"Maybe we need to approach this like a battle," I suggest, excitement bubbling inside me. "We're searching for the truth, and just like any good strategist, we need to use every tool at our disposal to achieve our goal."
Dario's eyes light up in agreement, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. "Yes," he says with conviction, "we'll approach this like a game of chess, anticipating our opponent's moves and adapting accordingly."
"Exactly," I reply, our hands brushing together as we lean in closer, caught up in the thrill of our intellectual connection. "We'll outmaneuver them at every turn, until we finally uncover the truth."
"Until then, I carry on like everything is normal," Dario nods. "My father shouldn't get a whiff of an idea, or he'd stop trusting me."
"You're right," I agree. "You must not let him know anything has changed from your end."
The warmth from Dario's hand lingers on my skin as we continue our conversation, the deepening bond between us undeniable. We have found solace in the midst of chaos, a connection forged not just by shared interests and intellect, but also by the unspoken understanding that we are both fighting for something greater than ourselves.
But just then, the room falls silent as we hear static over the radio. Dario and I look at each other, shock etched on our faces at the unexpected glitch.
But just then, a voice intones, barely above a whisper yet somehow filling the space around us. "I segreti nascosti giacciono nei numeri del passato. Cerca colui che conosceva tuo padre meglio di tutti."
Hidden secrets lie in figures from the past. Seek the one who knew your father best.
As quickly as it appeared, the voice and the crackle over the radio disappears, leaving us with nothing more than the lingering echo of its cryptic message. I squeeze Dario's hand, searching his face for any sign of understanding. "Did someone just…?" I begin.
"Hack into my radio?" he finishes.
I nod.
"It was the Ghost," he voices the thought running through my head.
"It had to be," I concur. "But his voice, was it one you recognize?"
"Never heard it," he frowns.
The little excitement I felt at possibly being able to identify our mysterious benefactor now disappears.
"Figures from the past?" I venture, hoping to spark some insight into what little information we did gain though. "Do you have any idea who the ghost might be referring to?"
Dario's eyes suddenly blaze with determination, and I can practically see the gears turning in his mind. He releases my hand and stands up, pacing back and forth as if trying to physically chase down the answer.
And then, just as abruptly, he stops, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.
"I know exactly who we need to go meet," he proclaims.
Chapter 28
Echoes Of The Past
Dario
First thing next morning, I lead Jasmine through a neglected part of Rome, my shoulders brushing against the crumbling bricks of ancient buildings as we make way through a narrow alleyway.
Faded murals adorn the walls, once vibrant colors now barely visible whispers of their former glory.
"Who exactly are we meeting again?" she asks, out of curiosity. "And that too, out here? In the middle of nowhere?"
"Jasmine," I say, my voice low and steady, "the man we're going to meet knows more about my father's past than anyone else. He's been a family secret for years." Jasmine's eyes widen with intrigue, and I can see her curiosity piqued.
We navigate the narrow alleys, the cobblestones uneven beneath our feet until we arrive at a hidden location, nestled between two seemingly abandoned buildings. I knock on an unmarked door, and it creaks open to reveal a dimly lit workshop.
