Chapter Seventy-Four.
Leon sat in the family room, stripping down a rifle and cleaning it. The act was normal; peaceful even, looking after your weapons was as natural to him as polishing shoes. The simple task which was ingrained in him during his basic training was comforting. Plus, he had noticed that a couple of Marco’s guards' weapons were not quite clean, and could easily misfire, or worse, blow their own hands off, rather than shoot an enemy. He had mentioned it to the Don, who had agreed to allow him to clean the weapons, but not have any ammunition with them. Also, after mentioning a particular mafia guard's weapon being a total disaster, the Don had rushed out, and the sound of fast, loud Italian had rung through the Big House. Clearly, he was giving him a stern talking to abou
