by Rachel Renee
“Si,” I answer.
“Inglese o italiano?”
“Cosa preferisci?” I would rather he choose.
“English,” he answers in kind. “Sorry to interrupt.”
I stare at this man who seems very American, now that I’m getting a closer look at him. His accent says he may be from the south, and so do his mannerisms. “Do I know you?” I ask. “I thought you looked familiar but I don’t recall ever meeting you.”
“You do not know me, Niccolo, but I know you. Santi has told me all about you.”
“Ah, yes.” I play dumb. “I think I’ve seen you around with Santi.”
“No sense playing dumb. You’ve seen me. I’ve seen you lurking in the trees”—my eyes widen—“I get it. Santi is a mysterious man, very secretive. If I didn’t know what was going on, I’d probably follow him as well.” His brows raise. “Seeing as how you two are living together and everything.”
“It’s not like that.”
“You want to explain what it is like then?”
I feel the tightness in my jaw as my teeth clench together. What is this man playing at and what does he want from me? “I don’t know what you are speaking of. Could it not have been a coincidence that you noticed me in close proximity to Santi? We do live within and attend the same university.”
“Maybe. I don’t really consider things a coincidence. Such as us deciding to have lunch in the same place today. The day I’m supposed to meet Santi and he’s indisposed for the moment.”
“Helping his father,” I enter. “You do not see this as a coincidence? The two of us eating at McDonald’s on the same day?”
His shoulders raise. “Nah. I’ve been following you. Santi trusts you…”
“But you don’t,” I finish for him.
“Correct. And neither does Paolo. He’s starting to, and I’m here to make sure that his trust is given correctly. I’ve known Paolo for many years, and he does not trust easily, and I trust even less than him.”
“I don’t know why my trust is even in question. I’m merely a professor here at the university. I met Santi over holiday and we became friends.”
“That’s the problem. Santi doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t date and he doesn’t hang out with any one person on a regular basis. That is until you.”
“Still not seeing what the issue is. So, we’re friends. So, he trusts me and likes me more than other people.”
“It’s just weird. I’ve known him his whole life and have never seen him so trusting in another human being. Well, besides his father.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. He’s become a good friend to me over the last few months.” The man sits and stares, his head shaking back and forth in his gaze. I can’t afford for him to be suspicious of me or of my motives.
“I just want you to know that I’m watching you. I’m Paolo’s eyes and ears here. He trusts his son, but Santi’s judgment has always been in question. So, I’m here to do just that. Be the judge of your character.”
I shrug, letting the man continue without pause.
“You know some, if not all, of what Paolo Rubio is involved in. You could hurt this family if you’ve got something sinister in your agenda.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy here. I’m a professor. I chose my occupation and am enjoying my first semester as an adult. I have no agenda other than living my life to the best of my ability.” I don’t smile or frown, I try to stay completely unmoved, unchanged by the questioning glance from across the table. After a few moments, his face scrunches up before he nods and pulls the box for his sandwich in front of him.
“We’ll see about that.” He drags the burger up to his mouth and takes a bite big enough to fill both cheeks.
It’s my turn to stare now. We’ll see about that, plays through my head. Yes, we shall, I answer in my own thoughts.
20
“Want to go on a little trip?” Those are the first words out of Santi’s mouth as the door to our apartment opens wide.
“When and where?” is my answer.
“We leave tomorrow and you’ll have to trust me.”
I feel myself glowering. Trust him.
“It’s big, Niccolo, and Padre says that I may ask for your help.”
“Then I should get to know a little more about what I’m getting myself into.”
The corner of Santi’s mouth turns up as he stares contemplatively at me. “Do you know how to shoot a weapon?”
Is he going to ask me to kill someone? I try to stay calm but my palms are starting to sweat. “A little. Why?”
“Let’s talk while we eat. I’m starving.”
My shoes hit the floor as I hoist myself from the couch. “Where to, boss?” I tease.
Santi chuckles. “Osteria. It’s close. And quick. Did I mention I’m starving?”
“You may have.” I quickly follow Santi out the door. We walk silently through the streets, just the couple of blocks to get to dinner. The place is quiet as we walk through the entrance. Nearing 20:30, most people have already enjoyed their meals and have headed home for the evening. Santi orders a meat and cheese tray, while I get my usual pasta dish. It’s so fresh here, and I’m hungry, so I need something a little more filling.
After grabbing our entrees, we move in the direction of the furthest table from the door, which is a feat in the small ristorante. “You going to talk to me or are we going to continue in silence?” I ask, relaxing into the chair across the table from Santi.
“Didn’t want to be interrupted or possibly overheard. Niccolo, I feel like I can trust you. Padre is trusting my judgment on this one. That’s big, so please don’t let me be wrong.”
“You are not wrong to trust me. Have I ever steered you astray?” I hope my face is portraying honesty and not the guilt that is starting to creep in.
“No. You are like a brother to me.” His mouth turns upward and I feel in this moment that I need to come clean about something.
“I met your friend. The one you meet with on Tuesday and Thursday.”
His eyes widen. “What do you mean? When?”
“Today. He met me at McDonald’s. Well, when I say meet, he followed me and introduced himself.”
“Why?” His question almost sounds like a growl.
If there is one thing I can be truthful about, it is the conversation I had this afternoon. I tell Santi about how the man, whose name I still don’t know, is keeping an eye on me to make sure I am who I say I am. I tell him that his father doesn’t completely trust me or his son’s judgment but I plan to prove to them just how trustworthy I actually am. The whole time I feel confident that I’ll do just that. I have to. For the sake of myself and my mission.
Santi’s smile widens. I’ve reeled him in, hook, line, and sinker. “That is why I am asking you for help. I know you are who you say you are.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me. Now. What do you need my help with?”
“I am in possession of a trunk load of weaponry. Do you remember Taylor from the party?”
“I do.”
“His shipments have arrived and I’ve got to get part of the goods to our man in Switzerland.”
“I see. Aren’t you worried about customs?”
“No. The route we will take will bypass traditional customs.”
“How’s that?”
“You will see. I will explain more on the drive. What I need from you is security and backup.”
“I’m a professor. What in the world do you think I’ll be able to do?”
“You said you shot before. Hopefully, you won’t have to. I want you to hold the gun and look tough. There shouldn’t be any trouble, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
“So, just hold the gun and look tough. That’s it?”
“That’s it. We’ll deliver the guns, pick up the cash, and be on our way.”
“Sounds easy enough. One problem…I’ve got to teach tomorrow.”
“You are going to need to take a
personal day. You have those, yeah?”
“I do, but…”
“No, I will not hear any excuse. You offered to help, so you will help and I’ve told you what we are to do.”
I’m not worried about the personal time off, I just didn’t want Santi to think I’d willingly do this without some thought. “Is this going to be dangerous? I mean, you want me to hold a gun and look tough. Should I be worried?”
He laughs at my question. “Of course you should be slightly worried. What we are doing isn’t exactly legal. People who participate in illegal activities aren’t always trustworthy.”
I chuckle slightly at his remark. “Well, apparently you’d know better than me. You know me well enough to know that I’m pretty straight.”
“That is why I trust you.”
My quick intake of breath surprises even me. I feel my conscious creeping in, and I have to block him out.
“So, you will help?”
My head nods before my mouth moves. “Si.”
I really don’t know what to be prepared for today, so I plan to be ready for anything. Santi supplied me with a couple of guns upon our departure. He showed me how to use them last night and I pretended I was learning for the first time. I made sure to do all the wrong things at least once, (point the gun at him, forget to turn off the safety, put the bullet in the wrong direction), so I didn’t seem like I knew too much.
I called Charlie before bed, wanting someone to know where I’ll be in case something goes wrong. I could hear a bit of worry but also excitement in his voice as I explained the scenario Santi had shared with me. He said this could be our break. Switzerland has been a place of interest but other than the bank account they found for Paolo, they couldn’t figure out if there was more to it than just a place to hide some American funds that he received illegally.
Until we get a couple of coffees in us, Santi is silent. His hands shake on the steering wheel and I see his left foot tap as we drive down the road. This is a side of Santi I have not met before. He’s nervous, which is heightening my awareness of the possible dangers of this mission. I play calm, cool and collected, trying to talk about other topics, but Santi shuts me down.
“This is no time to be thinking about women.”
“What better time? We’ve got over a four-hour drive.”
“On the way home. I have to stay focused. I can’t mess this up.” Maybe he’s more worried about disappointing his father than he is being in danger.
“I get it. I’ll be quiet. I’m over here if you decide you want to run something by me.” I place a hand on his shoulder, give it a quick pat, and then go back to drinking my second latte.
He doesn’t speak but does look my way for a split second with a half-smile on his face.
After passing through parts of Italy I have not explored, a little over an hour into the trip, Santi finally starts to settle down. Whatever he was working through must be solved and he’s ready to think about something else. He wants to hear about my family. This is the first time he’s really gotten into the personal stuff with me. I think back to my fabricated story and then to my real-life history. What parts do I share, and what do I leave out for the sake of safety?
Santi knows that I’ve been estranged from my real father most of my life, which is why I spent the summer with Charlie in Rome, to get to know him. The father that I grew up with was also American, although he lived in Italy with my mother and me until he passed away before I left for Uni. I told the story of my real father and mother, but changed some things, of course. And my real father didn’t die but got divorced from my mother. It’s easier to clean up later, if I kill him off, if something comes out and tries to bite me in the ass. Since we also killed off my mother, Charlie is my only living relative.
“My mother moved back to Italy, Florence, when I was quite small. I do not remember America, although we did reminisce quite often about the things she and my stepfather remembered. About family that was left behind there.
“My padre still talks about the family he has in America. I think sometimes he wishes we had moved back there permanently.”
I’m surprised given the fact that he seems to be doing quite well here.
After a long pause, Santi continues. “Especially since Madre left. He would never tell anyone else that he misses her, but he does. He’s said that things would be better if we were in America.”
“Why would being in America make things different?” I’m curious. Was he thrust into the lifestyle that he is now? Stuck, with no way out? Or is this a ploy?
“Padre says that things were always so good when we lived there. Mother and he never fought. It was only when we moved here permanently that things started going downhill between them.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“You’ve seen him. He only thinks about business.”
“That’s true. He seems to make time for you, though. Did he not with your mother?”
“That only started when she left. At least he learns from his mistakes.”
“That’s a good quality.”
“If you say so. What about Charlie? Do you like him? Did you enjoy your summer getting to know him?”
“In some ways, yes. He seems like a decent man. I think he would have been a great father had he known about me.”
“Do you plan to continue your relationship? Is he going back to America?”
“He’s fallen in love with Rome. I don’t see him leaving anytime soon. And yes, I plan to continue our relationship. It’s what my mother would have wanted.” The story just rolls off my lips like it’s the truth.
Silence takes over the car once more. There are other idle conversations along the way, but not until we get close does Santi start talking more about our mission. “There is one vault and one deposit box that we must visit. The vault to leave the weapons, the box to collect the money owed. The tricky part is we must leave the weapons and walk out of the vault so the buyers can collect the weapons. Only after they get what they have come for are we supposed to collect the money from the deposit box. We cannot leave the bank during that time either. They will not allow anyone into the vault twice in one day. We will have to find an inconspicuous place to lay low.”
“We will not witness the actual transaction? How do you know that the buyers will pay?” I was hoping to see the players in this business deal.
“We don’t. That’s the tough part. My father has had dealings with them before, not in this exact capacity, but in others. He seems to have some trust in the fact that they will follow through. He knows where to find them if they don’t.” He lets out a huff.
“What’s with the guns?” I point to the one sitting next to me. “If we aren’t going to see anyone, why do we need them?”
“Just in case. We have to be prepared, Nic. Prepared for anything.”
I nod but stay quiet. That’s my motto exactly.
21
Switzerland is majestic. Or at least the part we are currently entering. Lugano, close to the Italian border, brings life to the Swiss Alps. The whole backdrop we are driving into is covered in the whitecaps that lead down into a still-lush, green landscape. As we arrive at our destination, Santi picks up his phone and dials in his contact. I hear the one-sided conversation as I peer out into the horizon. A rather large body of water appears to my left. I can just make out the twinkling of the waves as they build upon the glasslike expanse. The sun almost overhead reflects off the water in brilliant shades of yellow and orange.
“Solo uno. Si. Venti Minuti.” Santi puts the phone back down in the center console, glancing at me as it hits the hard plastic.
“This area speaks affluent Italian. In fact, our people fought for it. Although, I’m sure you know the history.”
I shake my head as if I’m familiar.
“If you speak at all, only Italian. I warn you to speak only if directly spoken to. Otherwise, I’ll do all the talking. You will need your passport once more upon entering. Getting
the guns inside is going to be tricky. Not only do we have to get the ones we are delivering past security, but also the ones on our person.”
I should have known that this was going to be more complicated than Santi first let on. Good thing I have thought this through. “A person could leave anything in their vault, correct?”
“Yes.”
“The guns should not be a problem. We can store our loaded ones in the crates until we get through security and then we can retrieve them once more.”
Santi’s eyes light up as though this thought had not occurred to him. “Great plan.”
I need more information about this drop-off. “Will someone accompany us to the vault? If so, how will we hide after the drop-off?”
“Yes, and I have a plan.”
“Will you so kindly inform me of it before we go inside in twenty minutes?”
The time passes quickly as Santi explains the details of the plan he was concocting during our drive here. “It could work,” I tell him. “But we will have to be vigilant. This could go gravely wrong.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic. It will work.” Santi looks down to his watch as I peer at the dashboard, revealing that our time is up and we need to get moving. With one last glance in my direction, Santi is grabbing up his guns as I grab up mine and exit the vehicle.
Rounding the back of the vehicle, the trunk opens automatically, revealing the merchandise inside. This is the first I’m seeing it and the significance of it is not lost on me. Without words, Santi and I place our loaded weapons inside the top crate before unloading the items from the trunk onto the portable dolly that my partner just opened up.
If this all goes as planned, it will be an easy mission and a knowledgeable one, too. Considering we will not be in contact with anyone other than the bank personnel who will be escorting us to our destination in the vaults below, we shouldn’t actually need the weapons we brought along.
We’ve parked on the side of the multistoried building so once we’ve loaded up, we move in the direction of the front entrance. From the corner of my eye, Santi wipes a sweaty hand over his pants and then does the same with the other while pushing his dolly with the free one. I watch cars pass along the street and people gathered across the way. A man in a black suit is standing directly across the road from the bank entrance, and I notice him nod at a man who just appeared behind us at the corner of the street we just rounded. I cough and motion with my head for Santi to peer in his direction. I don’t know if those are some of the guys we are dealing with, but they definitely look suspicious.
