Chapter 23: The Don's Table

Gemma folded the letter in four and pushed it into her bra before the door opened.

She slid the brass key into her shoe.

Raffaele stood in front of her with his back to the window, buttoning his shirt.

Six men came into the bedroom with guns drawn, and the Don came in behind them, leaning on his cane.

"Good morning, my children," Vittorio said. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"You are," said Raffaele.

"Bruno Albertini screamed some nonsense at my table last night. A grieving man says things. I thought we should clear the air."

He looked at the portrait on the floor, and at the open backing at the base of its frame.

The smile did not move.

"My son. Your guards are in the hall. You will find they are disarmed."

"Under whose order?"

"Mine."

Raffaele looked at him for a long, level moment, and Gemma saw his hands open and close.

"You've come into my house with men," he said.

"It's my house. I only let you live in it."

Vittorio turned his pale face to Gemma.

"The captains are waiting in the dining room. They have a few questions about last night. Whose boat, whose map, whose fault."

"I'll come," said Gemma.

"Bring what you found."

"I found nothing."

"You found something in that frame, my dear. The wood is hollow."

"Wood is sometimes hollow."

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