1
Antonio
“We have a mess that needs your expertise,” Don Moretti says. His steel gaze says more than his words.
“Say no more.”
He wants me to take care of the problem and erase any evidence.
Usually, that involves murder or cleaning up the scene. And I must make sure it doesn’t tie back to the Moretti family. More specifically, Roberto, the don of the family.
I don’t proclaim to be a monster. I’ve done terrible deeds, murdered men, ripped children away from their families.
He hands me a slip of paper, folded. I open the page, already suspecting the location, but he’s cautious about voicing the command or order aloud.
Scribbled on the inside is an address.
Anyone could be listening.
No one is to be trusted.
The address listed is the docks downtown.
“Take Ardian with you,” Don Moretti says.
I nod an affirmative and head out of his office, leaving the door open on my way out. I breeze through the complex, searching for Ardian. He’s not at his post at the east entrance. Gian is there instead, Ardian’s boss, a capo.
“Looking for someone?” Gian asks.
Does he know my orders at the docks? It’s not a secret that we move products in and out of ports, but I don’t usually frequent the dock.
Ardian, however, does. That is, I assume, why Roberto suggested that Ardian accompany me. It’s not because I need the extra muscle. It’s because he needs me.
“Ardian,” I say, not further elaborating on my orders.
“He’s around back, cleaning up the muck.”
That’s code for detailing one of Moretti’s rides. Someone was offed in the backseat.
I head for the garage. It’s heated and comfortable for a winter’s day. The vacuum blares across the distance, the hum high-pitched and deafening.
Ardian isn’t using the vacuum. The back doors of the SUV are wide open, and Ardian is bent forward, spraying the leather interior.
Monte, another soldier, is cleaning the trunk, scrubbing the suds in with a coarse brush and then vacuuming the interior.
I turn off the vacuum, startling Ardian and Monte.
“What’s up?” Ardian asks, only noticing my presence when the high-pitched hum of the vacuum’s motor is silenced.
“I’ve got a job for you,” I say.
“Dirtier than this?” Ardian grins. He doesn’t let being part of the clean-up crew bother him. There’s a smear of fresh blood on the leather seats. The windows have already been cleaned, but the back seat’s headrest is disgusting. There are still bits of matter clinging to the leather upholstery.
“Let’s hope not,” I say.
“Sorry, Monte,” Ardian says and steps back from the SUV. “I guess you’re stuck finishing the rest of the backseat. Try not to be jealous.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Monte says.