After he got off the bus, he walked the length of a street and hid himself behind a stone shed that housed garbage bins. When the familiar dark car rolled out through the driveway gate, he waited a couple more minutes, then crossed the street. It was past seven when he rang the intercom bell.
So far so good, he thought.
* * *
“So you’re leaving.” Antonio wound a bit of pasta onto his fork and gazed out towards the canal. A water–taxi was just pulling away from the jetty to make room for a vaporetto. The two of them were sitting in a restaurant near the train station. Antonio loved these places, which in summer were crowded with tourists in shabby sandals, cameras swinging from their necks as they clutched their water bottles. Tourists drove Giacomo crazy, and he tried not to shudder fro
