The Taken Girls

work, but more than that, the young man possessed a certain openness and naivety that Ferrol believed he could exploit. In the process of grooming him, he invited Gressani for a coffee where he probed his background. He learned that he was an ambitious fellow who had grown up in a working-class household where there was never enough money. The opportunities in his small town, and indeed his native area of southern Italy, were limited. Growing up, his role models for success weren’t the plumbers, carpenters, and shopkeepers in his village, but the young men with flashy cars and girlfriends and pockets stuffed with five-hundred-euro notes who made their money in the drugs trade. Perhaps if he had been born into one of their families, he would have become one of them.

At school, he was friendly with an ’Ndrangheta boy named Marco Zuliani who, when he was trying to decide what to do with his life, tried to persuade him to join his crew. But Gressani knew that as a family outsider, he’d never advance far, and besides, he didn’t have the disposition or intestinal fortitude to be a gangster. So, he followed his natural aptitude and interests and became a laboratory technician. After several years without raises at his lab in Reggio Calabria, he followed the money and took a higher-paying position in Madrid, even though it meant fracturing his relationship with his girlfriend, Cinzia.

Ferrol, on hearing his story, pounced like a cat tired of merely playing with his captured mouse.

“You’ve done an excellent job in the 611 lab, Ferruccio.”

“Thank you, Dr. G,” Gressani said.

“More than that, I’ve come to have faith in your willingness to maintain confidentiality. As you know, for a variety of reasons, the work we’re doing in 611 is secret and sensitive.”

Gressani nodded. Ferrol had told him that leaks could enable his academic competitors and interfere with future patent claims. “I think the project I’m working on is exciting. I feel like I’m making a contribution to something that’s really important,” he said earnestly.

“That, it is,” Ferrol said. “How would you like to take your participation to the next level?”

Gressani’s open face was like a child’s. “I’d be very interested.”

“The next phase of our work won’t take place at the hospital. I’ll be building a lab elsewhere.”

“Why?”

“I want more secrecy and less bureaucracy. You have no idea about the hoops I have to jump through to do my work at La Paz.”

“I can imagine.”

“If you join me, you’d leave La Paz. I would pay you off the books, in cash, so you wouldn’t have to worry about taxes. You’d also have free accommodations and meals and you could keep your apartment in Madrid for weekend visits and the like.”

“The new lab would be nearby?”

“Not far. North of here.”

“Would I get a raise?”

Ferrol offered a movie-star smile. “Are you sitting down?”

Gressani was, indeed, sitting. He leaned closer in anticipation of a nice number. What he heard was so nice he almost jumped out of his chair to embrace the man.

“Fifteen thousand a month? Are you kidding me? Tax-free?”

“That’s my offer.”

“When could I start?”

“Some of what we do won’t be entirely legal.”

Gressani didn’t miss a beat. “I asked when I could start.”

Ferrol engaged Celeste in a similar discussion, but in her case, it played out over a weekend at Castle Gaytan, mostly in his bed. She too had come to Madrid, chasing the higher wages the hospital was offering for highly qualified nurses, and she too had grown up in modest circumstances. Her role in his enterprise would be more critical than Gressani’s and he would pay her more. He wasn’t prepared for the strength of her negotiating skills, but he wasn’t put off by them. It only made him want her more.

Without divulging the exact nature of her employment, he offered her two hundred fifty thousand euros per year, free of tax.

“That’s a great deal of money,” she replied, her skin glistening from lovemaking.

“I have confidence you’ll be worth it.”

“You’re a wealthy man,” she said.

“I am.”

“And your project isn’t going to be legal, is it?”

“Strictly speaking? No.”

“What would be the consequence of being caught doing whatever it is you intend to do?”

“For me—disastrous on all levels,” he said. “For you? Probably not disastrous, but certainly not good.”

“Not good, as in jail?”

“I would think so, although I am extremely careful. That won’t happen.”

“So careful that you’re offering me a lot of money to work for you after knowing me for less than a month?”

He laughed. “I have good instincts about people and besides, I feel I’ve had an intense introduction to Mademoiselle Celeste Bobier.”

“Double it,” she said suddenly. “Half a million a year. And I want it paid into an untraceable off-shore account.”

He grabbed her ass with both hands. “For me, the way you negotiate is extremely sexy,” he said.

“Do we have an agreement?” she asked.

“I think we’re very close.”

Now, with the three of them gathered in the basement, it was time for Ferrol to open his kimono further.

He pointed to his architectural plans and said, “Here’s where the lab will be. Ferruccio, this will be your lair. It will have all the equipment that the 611 lab has and more. State of the art. Celeste, here is your office. This is my office. The canteen will be here. Storage for medical supplies, here. Storage for food, here. You’ll live upstairs in the castle proper. Ferruccio, you’ve seen your apartment in the south tower.”

“It’s fantastic, yes.”

“And Celeste, you’ve seen your accommodations.”

It was Ferrol’s private, opulent suite of rooms.

“They are quite adequate,” she said with a naughty smile.

She touched a long fingernail to the largest space on the blueprints. Although unlabeled, the icons for beds, sink, toilet, and shower tipped it as living space. “What’s this for?” she asked.

“It’s for our patients,” he said.

32

Ferrol’s laboratory took almost a year to build. Due to a caution bordering on paranoia, he refused to hire local men for the work; wagging tongues were an unacceptable risk. He used a