Chapter 12: The Thumb

The man on the phone had said dinner could wait until I had finished my errands.

He had said it kindly, as if he were granting me a favor.

So by noon I was standing on my own front step again, with Nico in another man's hands and nothing to do about it until night.

Four cars sat at the curb behind me.

Three of my father's captains had come, the white-haired one and two others, and each had brought a man.

Cesare stood at my left.

The old adviser stood at my right with his coat buttoned to the neck.

Across the street, the neighbors had come out onto their porches.

Nobody pretended not to watch.

The pad beside the door glowed red when I touched my thumb to it.

I pressed it again for them to see.

Red.

I took my thumb away.

"Someone has to open it from inside," said the white-haired captain.

"Someone already is," I said.

The door swung inward.

Fiora stood in the hall in a coat, with a small duffel bag at her feet.

The oldest wife had driven her here at my request.

"Ren," she said. "Nobody else is in. Nico's men cleared out at six."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me."

I stepped through the door and past her, into the hall.

It smelled of stale champagne and floor polish.

The glasses were still stacked by the stairs.

I walked straight to the pad on the inside wall, where a little screen had been hidden under a plastic flap.

I had never seen it.

Nico had never let me.

"There's an admin code," Fiora said quietly. "He types it every time he gives somebody a thumb."

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