I approached him.
Until now, I had believed he didn't know many things.
But the photographs of him on some ordinary afternoon, shaking Nero Schiavone's hand, explained themselves.
And there was more.
Siena smiling at the same man in a local café, their fingers touching discreetly in other photographs.
And Valentina was there.
"What happens when we are betrayed, Sartori?" I asked.
"The maximum penalty is applied. Tenth rule of the code of silence," he answered.
But his eyes kept questioning Dante, demanding to know what was happening.
"And how does one remain within it?"
My voice was guttural as I picked up one of the laptops Francesco had brought but hadn't used.
It was heavy enough.
"Through loyal—"
He never finished.
His eyes landed on the image on my screen, but he had no
