“Fucking hell!”

He couldn’t afford to waste time looking for it now. He’d necessarily have to abandon the task when it was only three-quarters finished. He stood up. Step by step, he crossed back over the roof, taking care not to slip. The smooth soles of his Clarks desert boots weren’t especially well suited to the purpose, but fortunately he managed to make it intact through the ordeal. He lowered himself from the rain gutter to the metal table, and then put the table back where it belonged. He was done! He was moving away from the outbuilding when something caught his eye. Looking out the window on the second floor of the villa, Max was watching him. Rocco stopped in the middle of the lawn. He looked up at the boy. Max slowly lifted his hand and waved to him. Rocco waved back. Then Max opened the window and gestured for him to come over. The deputy chief looked around. There was no one else on the lawn or in the house. He moved quickly over to the foot of the building. The young man had the appearance of someone still wandering in the world of dreams.

“Hi.”

“Ciao, Max.”

“Did Chiara give you the documents?”

The deputy chief nodded his head.

“And were you able to find anything?”

He nodded his head again.

“Make them pay, Dottore!”

“You understand that your father and mother are part of the group.”

“I know. But I didn’t give a damn. They can do what they want, but not with my life.”

“Are you sure? If they get tangled up in all this, what are you going to do?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m legally an adult. I could go to America and stay with my uncle. Or maybe I’ll finally graduate from high school. If there’s anything you need, you know where to find me. And don’t worry, I never saw you here!” With that he shut the window. Rocco smiled and quickly darted behind the bushes. As he was running toward the enclosure wall, he marveled at that young man in whom he hadn’t at first detected any noteworthy qualities. He regretted his hasty and superficial judgment of the young man. It’s typical of the old to dismiss and condemn the young. But it’s only jealousy of the things the old have lost forever.

How much had that decision cost Max? How many nights had he lain awake eavesdropping on his parents, their friends, and that whole clan of wrongdoers that were milling around in his home? They had forced him to mingle with people like Walter Cremonesi, Carlo Cutrì, and that asshole Luca Grange. Other young men would have looked the other way, interested only in getting a new car and a couple of credit cards in their wallet. But not Max. He’d made the decision to uproot his life, a change that he knew would soon turn into sheer hell. But at least he’d be able to sleep at night, in his own bed, and not sit up restlessly smoking at the window, eating his heart out.