The bartender nodded towards the front window, just to Wolf’s left. Cezar stood up straight and looked, eyes hardening. Wolf froze, the beer pouring down his throat slowly. He stopped drinking, letting the beer rest up against his closed mouth, breathing out his nose. Then he realized they were looking at the front door as a warm, smoky breeze hit his face — a fully clad Caribinieri walking in.
Wolf set the beer down on the table and bent down to his boot. He fondled his laces and looked sidelong towards the red stripe of the Caribinieri uniform pants. They were poised right inside the door for a few seconds, then turned, stepping away from him.
Wolf straightened in his seat and strained to see through the patrons. He spied Cezar, who was wide eyed and turning pale. His Adam’s apple traveled up and down fast as he swallowed dryly.
He seemed to be shitting himself, and he should have been with the stuff he had sitting twenty feet directly behind the thin wood and concrete at his back.
Wolf stood and shuffled through the crowd to a more central locale, his curiosity peaked. Had the Caribinieri begun their investigation into the shady dealings of the Albastru Pub?
The girl with the piercings cut him off. “You not going to eat after all?” Her bottom lip was out with a pouty look.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. I think I’m just going to go up to the bar.” He pointed past her, then stopped dead in his tracks, accidentally juking the waitress into bumping straight into him. His eyes narrowed.
The waitress laughed excitedly, placing her tiny hand on the small of his back.
“Oh, sorry!” she giggled.
He didn’t notice her. He was still looking hard at Cezar, who had made a subtle move that didn’t make sense — a nod of his head towards the end of the bar.
Wolf looked to the Carabinieri officer, who changed the direction of his approach to the bar, following the nod.
It was an odd interaction. It was like Cezar was calling the location of the conversation, which he was, or else he wouldn’t have nodded his head. It didn’t make sense. It was a very familiar gesture, as if they were friends.
The officer reached the end of the bar, plopped his hat down and leaned over onto his elbows.
Cezar reached him and immediately leaned down, launching into a conversation in his left ear. The Carabinieri officer turned his head to his right, revealing the unmistakeable profile of Detective Valerio Rossi. Cezar was gesturing behind himself with a thumb, then also sat his elbows on the counter.
Cezar was looking at Rossi with raised eyebrows, looking like he was waiting for some kind of an answer from Rossi.
Rossi stood slowly and stared at his hat on the counter, contemplating. He began looking around, down the length of the bar, then at the patrons who watched the television.
Wolf’s heart skipped. Something wasn’t right.
He looked down at the waitress who was pulling her hand back and moving on with her life. She began shuffling past, and he twisted away from the bar following her, then he gently pulled on her arm. Turning back, she had a puppy dog look of curiosity. He bent and kissed her. She returned the gesture eagerly, a clicking tongue piercing bouncing off his teeth. Wolf opened his eyes and searched the reflection in the front window while they kissed. Rossi was walking straight towards him.
He stopped kissing her and breathed in her ear. “Sorry, no. I won’t be eating tonight after all.”
“That’s too bad.” Her breath was hot, her lips flicking his earlobe. “Well, we could always eat together later.”
“What’s that?” He said pointing at his ear, keeping his head down. She repeated herself as Rossi pushed past Wolf’s right shoulder, brushing up against him, and out the front door.
Wolf stood and watched him leave out the door and down the road to his left.
Looking in the window reflection again, he saw Cezar turning the corner back into the rear of the pub.
Wolf walked out the front.
“Fucking American piece of sh-” the waitress’ voice was snuffed out by the shutting door.
“Later asshole,” the soccer fan guy raised his beer as Wolf walked past.
He walked to the scooter, but not before glancing back to Rossi, who was hanging a left — towards the alley Wolf had just come from.
Chapter 42
The officer on Wolf’s brother’s balcony looked to the northwest corner of the piazza, then, raising a radio to his mouth, turned to look directly at him.
Static erupted, followed by a tinny voice, no more than five feet to Wolf’s right. Wolf flinched, ducking fast to his left, suddenly very conscious of his conspicuous height compared to the people around him.
He slalomed through the piazza crowd and made his way to the side shops, then ducked into a narrow side street. He bummed a light from a teenager and puffed hard on a cigarette, surveying the piazza from behind the thin smokescreen.
Wolf was on the west side of the piazza, looking up at the northeast corner. The figure left the balcony and ducked inside to the fully lit apartment. It was an officer he’d never seen. Obviously the rest of the piazza was crawling with Caribinieri, though he had yet to see any.
Meanwhile, pieces of a jigsaw puzzle in his mind were being shuffled and fitted together, his brain beginning to see the clear picture.
Wolf dropped the cigarette and walked down the side street, working his way right, then right again, into a pulsing artery of people that flowed into the piazza.
Wolf centered himself within the throngs of people and shuffled forward, surveying ahead. He narrowed his eyes. Tito just inside the entrance to the piazza along the left side, talking conspiratorially on his cellphone. A quick plan materialized in Wolf’s head.
“Can I get one of those, Officer?” Wolf watched Tito slip his phone into his pocket and put a cigarette in his mouth.
Tito’s sagging eyelids shot open in surprise at seeing Wolf.
Wolf nodded up to the apartment. “How’s it going? You keeping an eye on my brother’s apartment?”
Tito’s mouth sagged open, dropping the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What are you…” Tito stopped at the sharp pressure at the small of his back. Wolf waited patiently as he fumbled in his empty holster, then realized it was his own Baretta held on him.
“Don’t you dare make a move or a sound,” Wolf said menacingly. “I’ve got nothing to lose here. If I have to kill you to get away, that’s no problem with me.”
People streamed by, pushed forward by the current of humans behind them, none seeing the situation for what it was.
Wolf jabbed the barrel up harder. “Give me your phone.”
Tito pulled it out, and Wolf took and opened it up.
“Was that Rossi on the phone just now?”
Tito arched his back at the gun’s pressure and winced.
“Relax, Tito.” Wolf stepped in front of him and removed the radio from his belt. “Just relax. I’m going to let you go on about your business. You stay right here as if all is fine.” Wolf put the radio and phone in his left sweatshirt pocket, pointing the gun at Tito’s belly through the fabric of the right. “Otherwise, I’m going to shoot you.”
Tito’s mouth dropped open a sliver and his arms went limp by his sides.
