When I arrive, the three men are already suspended by chains in the underground chamber of the place, which historically served as the dungeon of the old building. Voices echo through the tunnels below, never reaching anyone above, but down there even a whisper can be heard throughout the corridors, as though souls themselves are speaking to us.
Arturo is focused on his tools, excited at the possibility of impaling someone tonight, while the prisoners remain unconscious. I notice the gunshot wounds in their lower limbs, meant to prevent escape back in Santo Stefano, and I know Arturo threw himself a little party before I arrived, beating them however he pleased.
“Is there anything left?” I ask, hating the mess he makes.
“We’ve got enough entertainment for the whole week. I’m just not a
