Chapter 24 24

Chapter 24 24

Moretti began to come to the estate more and more, and in a few days he came very often. Every time, Isabella would watch closely. Her ears perked up to every word he said. Every gesture he made. Every question he asked. She was searching for the flaws in his performance. When the grandfatherly facade slipped, and you saw that something darker was lurking below. At one dinner Moretti brought news which caused Giovanni to lean across the table.

“I have a list of what crew members are still left alive,” Moretti said. He carved his meat with neat strokes. "First things first: I hear through reliable channels that at least one of them is in Greece. Athens, specifically. The other in New York." Giovanni's whole body went tense.

"You are certain?"

"As sure as one ever is of these things," Moretti said smoothly. " These men have been missing for 14 years. They are careful. But money talks, Giovanni. For this information, I have paid well.”

He stopped, took a sip of wine. "If you wish to follow them, I have steppe d forward and made arrangements for travel. A private plane. Secure accommodations. Local connections, who can connect you to them. We know where they are; you ought to hit them.

“I’ll think about it,” Giovanni responded. His intonation was silky yet Isabella could still see the wolf in his eyes. The desperate, frantic requirement to complete what he had began.

Isabella watched Moretti's reaction. Noticed how his eyes twinkled with satisfaction. How much he was pleased to see that Giovanni cared for it. Moretti kept the conversation going through dinner. He nodded towards Dante De Santis with careless disdain.

“De Santis lost another three of his men last week. Defected to other families. His organization is falling apart that he built. The man is weak, Giovanni. Now is the time to strike."

"Soon," Giovanni said. “Once those crew guys are taken out, I’ll go full force for De Santis.”

"Of course," Moretti agreed. Too quickly. Too eagerly. Later over a dinner, Moretti centered his attention on Isabella. Giovanni had stepped away to make a phone call. They were the only ones in the dining room.

"How are you settling down, my love?" Moretti asked. His tone was sympathetic. "It must be difficult. Living with the man who murdered your father.”

Isabella kept her expression neutral. "I am adjusting."

“You are a strong woman,” Moretti told her. “Stronger than even Giovanni, I think knows.” He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Isabella. Did your father leave you nothing? Letters? Documents? Anything at all?" Isabella remembered Silas's instructions. Be careful. Watch what he asks.

"Just personal belongings," she said. "Nothing important."

"Are you certain?" Moretti pressed. “Occasionally a man like your father, they always hold insurance. Information that might save them if something were to go awry.”

“My father valued no such things,” Isabella lied. “If he did, Giovanni would have discovered them when he searched the apartment.” Moretti studied her face. And, yes, you would be correct."

But he did not appear convinced.

Isabella found Silas in the library that night. He was sitting by the fireside reading. “Moretti is encouraging Giovanni to get out of the country,” she said softly. She took the chair opposite him. "To find the other crewmen."

"I know," Silas said. "Giovanni told me. He asked my opinion."

"What did you say?" "I told him it was a trap." Silas set down his book. That the timing was too good. That Moretti learned too much. But Giovanni doesn’t want to hear it. He wants those men dead."

“So he will go,” Isabella said. "Probably," Silas agreed. ‘Unless we can furnish him a reason not to. Not unless we can prove to him that Moretti has been deceiving him."

"How do we get that proof?" Isabella asked. There was a long silence when Silas didn’t say anything. He then reached into his jacket and withdrew a small device. It was small, black, shiny like a coin.

"A recording device," he said. "The newest technology. Very sensitive. It will pick up talk really well.” Isabella stared at it.

"You want me to film Moretti.”

“I need you to make him confess,” Silas said. "To tell you what he did. Why he employes your father's gang. What his plans are now."

"He would never say that to me," Isabella protested.

"He might," Silas said. "If you approach it correctly. If you act like you are scared. That you need his protection. That you are exposed and by yourself. Powerful men like to feel strong. They like to brag. Give him the opening and he may tell you more than he meant to.”

Isabella took the device. It was cool against her palm. Light. "And what if he knows about it? If he catches me?"

"Then you will die," Silas replied, curtly. "Moretti does not leave witnesses. Your father learned that. Antonio learned that. You don’t succeed, you learn it the hard way too. It was brutal but honest. Isabella appreciated that. At least he wasn’t lying to her. Not pretending this was safe.”

"When?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," Silas said. "Moretti visits again tomorrow. Giovanni will be busy getting ready to go. You will get a chance to chat privately with Moretti. To ask him questions. To get him talking."

"What should I say?" Isabella asked.

"Be vulnerable," Silas instructed. "Tell him you are scared. You do not know what may become of you when Giovanni shall step forth a man redeemed from sin, the apostle of God's mercy and the people's gratitude, to climb upward by your side, and enter at heaven's gate. Ask him if you will be safe. He is either going to make you feel better or scare the hell out of you. Either way, we could get something out of him with what he has planned.” He paused. “And if you’re lucky, if you push the right way, he may boast. May say how crafty he s been. How he has deceived everyone for 14 years.”

Isabella grasped the device in her hand. "This could get me killed."

"Yes," Silas agreed. “But you will also be killed doing nothing. Moretti has something he’d like for you to do, Isabella. Plans that don't involve you surviving until Giovanni leaves the country. This is your last opportunity to have him removed before it's too late.” Once Silas had departed, Isabella was alone in the library. She gazed at the recorder in her hand.

A singular opportunity to see the reality. One shot to demonstrate that Moretti had been playing Giovanni for fourteen years. One last hope, for saving herself and possibly Giovanni from a conspiracy that already had killed so many. And, if she was wrong, if Moretti cottoned on as to what she was up to next. Another body. Another one who got too close to the truth and ended up paying for it.

Isabella thought about her father. About Antonio. Roughly everyone who had died in this war that might have been predicated on lies. She dwelt on Giovanni, driven by vengeance against a man who may not be his true enemy. She had been thinking about Audrey, recuperating from an accident that was a message. She contemplated all the pain and death and destruction. And she knew she had to try. I had to try and get Moretti even if it did me in. It was, after all, the second night in which you could say that things were falling apart. And because the other option was to let him win. Allowing him to crush Giovanni and everything else around him with a smile on his face, pretending to be an ally.

Isabella pocketed the device. Tomorrow she would face Moretti. Tomorrow she would make him confess. She thought tomorrow she would die trying to expose the yurt, or at least the truth. That night, she went to bed and couldn’t sleep. Her mind raced with possibilities. With plans. With fear. She could feel the recording device burning a hole in her pocket even though she had it tucked away meticulously. Tomorrow everything would change. One way or another. She would have evidence that Moretti had betrayed her. Or she would be dead. There was no middle ground. No safe option. Just the truth or death. And Isabella didn't know which possibility frightened her more.