“I’m here unannounced and I’m alone.”
“This is the only time I’ll speak as your uncle and not as part of the Camorra, and you better listen well. Turn around and fly back to New York.”
“You don’t know why I’m here. I could be asking to join the Camorra.”
Fabiano chuckled dryly. “Ask for a bullet, that’s more likely to happen.”
“Are you going to pick me up or do I have to hail a fucking taxi to take me to Falcone mansion?”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. You better be gone by then.”
A black Mercedes S-class pulled up at the curb where I waited. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see who was inside. I opened the back door and slipped in.
Fabiano turned briefly and let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “You inherited your father’s lack of control in certain matters.”
I ignored his comment and regarded the man in the passenger seat who didn’t turn around but watched me with cold eyes through the back mirror. Nino Falcone.
“Nino.”
His lips barely moved and his expression was emotionless. The locks clicked into place. “Amo.”
I leaned back. “Are you not going to ask me why I’m here?”
Nino motioned at Fabiano who pulled the car away from the airport.
I nodded. “Am I going to get a special Camorra treatment for breaching your territory without permission?”
He didn’t say anything.
“The mansion? Or where does Remo want him?” Fabiano asked.
“Take him to the Sugar Trap.”
Fabiano’s expression told me he hadn’t expected that. We drove in silence for the rest of the way. I was surprisingly calm. If this was what it took to get Greta, then I’d gladly brave torture, even if Nino’s talents were feared even among mobsters.
We arrived in the street before the notorious Camorra establishment. Strip club upstairs, torture chamber downstairs.
“You won’t give us trouble, I assume?” Nino asked.
“I’ll behave.”
Nino nodded once and got out then he opened the door for me.
“My brother’s dream has always been to break your father. I’ve never shared his aspirations.”
“I can assure you whatever your plans are for me, it won’t break my father. Marcella’s kidnapping didn’t break us either.”
Nino didn’t say anything. He motioned at the door of the Sugar Trap. Fabiano was close behind us. The inside of the strip club was deserted. I followed Nino’s lead and settled on a barstool. This was a curious meeting, and I wasn’t yet sure where it was going.
“I talked to Greta. I assume she is the reason why you’re here.”
Fabiano’s expression flickered with concern, then he narrowed his eyes at me. Again he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe how stupid I was. Hadn’t he entered a death fight with Remo once because of his feelings for a woman?
“She is,” I admitted. I hadn’t come here to beat around the bush. I wanted Greta and was willing to shout it from the rooftops. I looked around. “I assume you haven’t told your brother yet.”
Fabiano took a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label from the shelf behind the bar and poured three drinks. Without a word, he set them down in front of us then downed his own. “This is probably the last peaceful drink I’ll get to enjoy in a while.”
Nino took his glass. “I’m of the impression that war might still be prevented.”