Free The Goodbye Kiss by Massimo Carlotto Page B

cockiness.
        "Did
they go for it?" he asked.
        I
told the whole story, down to the smallest details. As I always did with him.
Even shared my suspicions about the Croats' plan to whack us and make off with
the cash.
        "The
Spaniards might also be tempted," Anedda figured. "This way they
could lay out two Croatian fascists and a police informer."
        I
hadn't thought of this. His reasoning was flawless, but I knew too much about
far-left idealists to think it had a real chance of happening. Still, to be on
the safe side, it was best not to take anything for granted.
        "When
we split the cash, you'll have to be there, hidden, ready to show at the right
moment to help me smoke them."
        .
"Seven's too many," he remarked.
        "Five,"
I corrected. "Ciccio Formaggio and his inside guy will check out the night
before."
        "You'll
see to it?"
        "Yes."
        He
adjusted the knot in his tie. "Five's not so few, but it can be done.
We'll have to find an abandoned house in the country."
        "That's
your job. You're the Milanese."
        For
the umpteenth time he discreetly surveyed the joint, searching for faces he
recognized. Reassured, he stood up and left without paying his share of the
bill.
        
        
        The
widow had gotten drunk. I found her stretched out on the couch, face down. The
room stank of smoke and liquor. I threw open a window. Made some strong coffee
and filled the tub with cold water. That bitch drank just to dodge me.
        The
next morning only Maria Garces, alias Francisca, showed up at the bar. Her hair
was tied back, and she wore jeans that accentuated her ass and legs.
        "Alone?"
        "Better
one in jail than three."
        "Right.
You can never be too careful. So what did you decide?"
        "We
can't let someone innocent pay for us. The problem is you offer no guarantee of
safety. This could be a trap. After the heist you shoot us in the back or turn
us over to the police. And once we're gone you can denounce our Italian
comrades. With scum like you we can never be sure."
        She
enjoyed insulting me. She was indignant, angry, especially because she knew I
had them boxed in. "If you're finished with the bullshit, we can move on
and discuss the plan." I spelled out the operation without saying the
place and date, just as I'd done with the Croats. When she asked me who the
other players were, I mentioned only Romo and Tonci. As soon as she heard they
were Ustashi, she started to spew insults. I let her vent for a while. She
chilled out when I told her after the split they could slit each other's
throats if they liked. From her expression I could tell the Spaniards had also
considered this angle. Ferruccio saw right through them. Apart from that idiot
Ciccio Formaggio and the inside guy, all the other players were keen to
eliminate the competition. But I wasn't worried at all about the Spaniards. No,
the Croats were the ones who bothered me. And Anedda. He was an unknown
quantity. I thought him capable of anything. Even of saving the last bullet in
the clip for me, once the others were eliminated. I had no intention of laying
him out. In days to come he could still be useful. But I'd have to keep my eye
on him, and if he wanted to try and fuck me over, I'd pay him back in the same
coin.
        "I
want to see the place and the armored truck when it collects the money. I want
to check the escape routes." The Spaniard started making a list,
distracting me from my thoughts.
        I
shut her up with a wave. "I'll show you a video. I don't want any
fugitives buzzing around my hit. You might fuck everything up. It goes down in
ten days." On Saturday I'd film the whole scenario with a video camera,
and the following week we'd enter the field.
        She
stared at me, boiling with hatred. "More and more this robbery stinks like
a trap."
        "The
only thing it stinks like is money, but you're too obsessed with