Page 106 of Ruthless Sin
I step away from the island.
“Velikov lieutenant in Moscow received a packet two hours ago. The packet has Mila’s name. He forwarded it up the chain. Izzy’s tracking it through three relays. Alexei has it on his desk by morning Moscow time.”
“How long until he reads it.”
“Four hours. Maybe less.”
“Casa Lucia.”
“Going to lockdown level effective now. I called Cassia. She’s awake. She’s handling it from the office. Drivers off-route. Patient intakes pushed forty-eight hours. The new reception man relieved. The Algiers property full lockdown too.”
“And the compound.”
“Doubled at the gate. Quiet. Cassia didn’t want Mila to feel the difference until you’ve talked to her.”
“Marco.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Niccolò.”
“Yes,” I say.
A pause from his end. Then, quiet, the brother-voice under the Capo:
“When are you telling her.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Don’t wait past noon.”
“I won’t.”
“All right.”
He hangs up.
I put the phone back in my pocket.
Nonna is at the sink with her back to me.
“You going up?”
“Yes.”
“Take the milk.”
I take the milk.
Mila is in my bed.
Awake. Sitting up against the headboard. Wearing one of my shirts she’s taken for nights. Sleeves rolled. Hem at her thighs. The chain at her throat under the cotton. The Pushkin is on the blanket beside her, open, face-down on the page she’s been looking at.
She sees me in the doorway. Sees the mug.
“You were gone long time,” she says.
