Chapter 18: The Count

At a quarter to midnight on Saturday, every captain on the Coast sat in Nolan Hall with his hands on the table.

I sat in my father's chair.

Fitz stood at my left shoulder, and Dominic stood behind me with his arm strapped to his chest.

The room was so quiet I could hear the water.

Bruno Pace sat at the middle table in a clean gray suit.

He was calm, and he smiled at me.

"Mrs. Ventresca. It's nearly midnight."

"I can see the clock, Mr. Pace."

"Nine oaths, then."

"Nine."

I looked down the hall at the faces.

"Say it as it was said to my father," I told them. "One at a time. Stand, and say it."

The first man to rise was one of the four in good coats from the cannery.

"My oath to Anneliese Nolan," he said. "On my mother's grave."

"Mine," said the second, standing.

"Mine."

Pace's smile stayed where it was.

I heard the Ventresca four stand next, with their chairs scraping.

"On Donna Renata's cross," said the eldest. "To Anneliese Nolan."

"On the cross."

Eight men stood in the hall, and thirteen sat looking at them.

Pace spread his rings on the table.

"Eight," he said gently. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ventresca. It's a fine showing. But you're one short, and the clock has two minutes."

At the third table, a thin old man with a white mustache put his gray hat on the wood and stood.

"My oath," he said. His voice carried. "To Anneliese Nolan. And I have something to say to this table before I sit."

Pace's smile slipped a quarter of an inch.

"Nine," Fitz said. "The count is made."

"The count is made," I said. "Thank you. Sir, you have the floor."

The old man turned to face the hall.

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