Free The Broker by John Grisham

lunch or dinner. A disgrace. All that milk on a full stomach.” For a moment Luigi frowned as if he might just vomit for good measure.
    Joel raised his right hand and said, “I swear I’ll never do it.”
    “Have a seat,” Luigi said, waving at the small desk and its two chairs. They sat down and tried to get comfortable. He continued: “First, the room. It’s in my name, but the staff thinks that a Canadian businessman will be staying here for a couple of weeks.”
    “A couple of weeks?”
    “Yes, then you’ll move to another location.” Luigi said this as ominously as possible, as if squads of assassins were already in Treviso, looking for Joel Backman. “From this moment on, you will be leaving a trail. Keep that in mind: everything you do, everyone you meet—they’re all part of your trail. The secret of survival is to leave behind as few tracks as possible. Speak to very few people, including the clerk at the front desk and the housekeeper. Hotel personnel watch their guests, and they have good memories. Six months from now someone might come to this very hotel and start asking questions about you. He might have a photograph. He might offer bribes. And the clerk might suddenly remember you, and the fact that you spoke almost no Italian.”
    “I have a question.”
    “I have very few answers.”
    “Why here? Why a country where I cannot speak the language? Why not England or Australia, someplace where I could blend in easier?”
    “That decision was made by someone else, Marco. Not me.”
    “That’s what I figured.”
    “Then why did you ask?”
    “I don’t know. Can I apply for a transfer?”
    “Another useless question.”
    “A bad joke, not a bad question.”
    “Can we continue?”
    “Yes.”
    “For the first few days I will take you to lunch and dinner. We’ll move around, always going to different places. Treviso is a nice city with lots of cafés and we’ll try them all. You must start thinking of the day when I will not be here. Be careful who you meet.”
    “I have another question.”
    “Yes, Marco.”
    “It’s about money. I really don’t like being broke. Are you guys planning to give me an allowance or something? I’ll wash your car and do other chores.”
    “What is allowance?”
    “Cash, okay? Money in my pocket.”
    “Don’t worry about money. For now, I take care of the bills. You will not be hungry.”
    “All right.”
    Luigi reached deep in the barn jacket and pulled out a cell phone. “This is for you.”
    “And who, exactly, am I going to call?”
    “Me, if you need something. My number is on the back.”
    Joel took the phone and laid it on the desk. “I’m hungry. I’ve been dreaming of a long lunch with pasta and wine and dessert, and of course espresso, certainly not cappuccino at this hour, then perhaps the required siesta. I’ve been in Italy for four days now, and I’ve had nothing but corn chips and sandwiches. What do you say?”
    Luigi glanced at his watch. “I know just the place, but first some more business. You speak no Italian, right?”
    Joel rolled his eyes and exhaled mightily in frustration. Then he tried to smile and said, “No, I’ve never had the occasion to learn Italian, or French, or German, or anything else. I’m an American, okay, Luigi? My country is larger than all of Europe combined. All you need is English over there.”
    “You’re Canadian, remember?”
    “Okay, whatever, but we’re isolated. Just us and the Americans.”
    “My job is to keep you safe.”
    “Thank you.”
    “And to help us do that, you need to learn a lot of Italian as quickly as possible.”
    “I understand.”
    “You will have a tutor, a young student by the name of Ermanno. You will study with him in the morning and again in the afternoon. The work will be difficult.”
    “For how long?”
    “As long as it takes. That depends on you. If you work hard, then in three or four months you should be on your own.”
    “How long did it take you to