“He scares the shit out of me,” Gressani told Celeste one day over lunch in the castle kitchen.
“Me as well,” she agreed.
“Where do you think he’s from?” he asked.
“Ferrol told me he’s Slovakian. He used to be some kind of a soldier.”
“Why’d Dr. G hire him?”
“He doesn’t trust the locals.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s murdered people,” Gressani said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s raped people,” she added.
“Possibly both,” Gressani concluded.
The contrast of transforming the dank, ancient space where medieval Gaytan lords kept their wine and their feudal hostages, to gleaming labs was startling—with passage through a set of security doors, five centuries vanished. Celeste joked that she needed sunglasses to work there because of the gleaming whiteness of every surface. Ferrol even chose ceiling fixtures that delivered a high-Kelvin, pure white.
White is the color of progress, he would say, the color of cleanliness, the color of life.
Celeste and Gressani left their hospital jobs and were on Ferrol’s personal payroll during the construction project. During the week, Ferrol remained in Madrid supervising his mainstream research and joined them in Lirio on weekends to work through experimental protocols for what was to come. Gressani found the isolation of the castle and the absence of a social life somewhat boring, but Celeste enthusiastically assumed the role of lady of the manor, bossing around the domestic staff to whom the basement was strictly off-limits, and luxuriating in the opulence of medieval finery. When the underground lab was finally complete and the construction teams were gone, Ferrol had his cook prepare a celebratory dinner, laid on in dramatic fashion in the vast banqueting hall.
Ferrol sat at one end of an impossibly long dining table with Celeste to his right and Gressani to his left.
Lifting a glass of vintage champagne, he said, “This is the end of one phase of my journey and the beginning of the next. We have demonstrated in animal experiments that my techniques work. It’s time to take the giant leap. With your help, we can achieve what has only been dreamed of before. A toast! To us! To a long and healthy future!”
Celeste’s red lips stained the rim of her glass and she rubbed his inner thigh under the table.
Ferrol patted her hand and said, “Ferruccio, the next job will be yours and yours alone. I’m depending on you to get it done.”
“What can I do, Dr. G?”
“You know people I do not know. People from your home, the criminals, the ’Ndrangheta. I want you to reach out to these people. I’m certain they can get us what we need. They’ll want a lot of money. I’m not a fool—I will negotiate. However, I’m prepared to pay whatever it takes.”
*
Next to sex, weightlifting was Matteo Zuliani’s greatest pleasure. He regularly injected a cocktail of anabolic steroids and testosterone, and as a result, he often had to cut the arms off of T-shirts to accommodate his bulging muscles. It was a hot, muggy July night and as he waited outside his brother-in-law’s house, he was sweating heavily. The job tonight was straightforward. He had done these kinds of things before. However, this one was different in a delightful way. For this job, the payment was guaranteed, two-thirds in advance, a third on delivery.
Gianluca Rizzo was a natural choice for his partner. He was a good soldier who worked hard, he had a decent attitude, and he was determined to curry favor with Matteo’s father. As someone linked to the Zulianis by marriage, not blood, he knew he’d be judged only by his productivity and earning power.
Zuliani got impatient and knocked on the door. Rizzo answered, somewhat flustered.
“What the fuck’s taking you so long?” Zuliani asked.
“Sorry, Teo. I’m trying to figure out how much to pack?”
“We’re not going on holiday, for Christ’s sake. Just bring a fucking toothbrush, Lu.”
“When are we going to be back?”
“I told you. This time tomorrow night. Now, go kiss my goddamn sister and let’s go.”
He heard his sister calling out, “When’s he going to be back?”
“Tomorrow fucking night!”
“Does he need a jacket?”
“It’s the middle of the fucking summer!” he yelled.
“He said he’s going to be on a boat.”
“Hey, Lu, did you give her all the details of the job?” Zuliani asked.
“Just that we’re going to be on a boat.”
Zuliani began walking back to his car. “I’m starting the car and I’m leaving. You’d better have your rear end in the passenger seat or you’re going to be in deep shit.”
They drove down from the hills toward the sea.
After a while, Rizzo asked, “So, how do you know about this family?”
“A friend of mine hangs out in a bar in Favazzina. An old guy comes in there all the time. He and his wife are caretakers for a villa owned by some Americans who come here for the summer. He’s always going on about how rich they are and that they’ve got these nice little girls. I checked the place out two weeks ago, before the family arrived. They don’t have cameras, there’s a security system, but it wasn’t on.”
“How’d you know?”
“I hopped the gate and climbed a drainpipe up to the first floor where a window was a little bit open. Open windows mean there’s no alarm set.”
“Yeah, smart.”
“So, I’m
