By the time San Teodoro’s bells went quiet, the tracer Nora stitched into Cesare’s relay was already singing.
“Confirmed,” she whispered over comms from the loft she’d converted into a war room. “Valette Holding routes through a shell on Lampedusa, then two more umbrellas. Final vault sits in Zurich behind a charity façade- Fondazione Fratelli.”
“Brothers,” Emilia said. “Cute.”
“Leverage,” Rafael replied. “He buys sainthood by the pound.”
Emilia leaned over the city map, the cathedral a faded rose pinned by a thumbtack. She wasn’t thinking about stained glass anymore. She was thinking about oxygen- what it costs to keep men like Cesare alive.
“How fast can you make him short of breath?” she asked.
Nora didn’t smile, but her voice warmed. “We nick him tonight, he won’t notice until th
