“Maybe it’ll jog something loose,” I say instead. “Get you back to being useful.”
He’s staring at me. For the first time since the basement, there’s something behind those golden eyes that isn’t flat or empty. It’s not the old fire; more like an ember glowing brighter under a careful breath.
“Okay,” he says.
“No one comes armed,” I tell him. “Anyone pulls a weapon, I put them down. You don’t go anywhere without me. And if I say we leave, we leave. No arguments.”
“Alright.”
“And Caligula.” I wait till he looks at me. “If any of them try to collect that bounty, I will kill every last one of them. You’ll be the last Clemenza standing. Theverylast.”
“A collector’s item,” he says, and there’s a ghost of something in his voice. Not quite the old acid. But a shadow of it. A memory.
I call Ferraro. The old man picks up on the first ring, like he’s been waiting with the phone on his chest.
“Shut up and listen,” I tell him. “I’m calling on behalf of—” I glance at Caligula. “—of Don Clemenza,” I say, just to see how it lands. It gets no reaction out of Caligula, but Ferraro catches his breath. “He wants a meeting with his people,” I go on. “Tonight. No one armed, or I deal with them myself. Where?”
There’s a long silence on the other end. Then Ferraro’s voice comes back thick and unsteady, and I realize the old bastard is crying. Crying with relief or joy or whatever it is these Clemenza Loyalists feel when they hear their prince is still alive and asking for them.
I hold the phone away from my ear and wait for him to pull himself together. When I finally get an address and a time out of him, I end the call and look at Caligula.
He’s holding the coffee mug with both hands, and his eyes are…
Alive.
Not with the dazzling Clemenza prince brightness. But something that might be a cautious hope.
“Thank you,” he says.
I get up. “Don’t thank me yet,” I tell him. “I’ll bring up some breakfast, and then you’ll get some more rest. Tonight’s gonna be a long one.”
I leave him there with the lamp still on and I pull the door mostly closed behind me.
On the landing, I stop and think about what just happened. Because I just handed Caligula Clemenza access to his own army. They’re an army of has-beens and wannabes, but if he gets back to full strength, if his brain comes back online, if those Loyalists give him what he needs…
He could turn all of it against me.
I knew that.
And I called Ferraro anyway.
CHAPTER 26
DAMIANO
That night,just after eight, Vito pulls into the curb at a narrow apartment block in Queens. Paint peels off a door frame that houses a cracked glass window. I get out first, and then—after I make sure to look around for threats this time—I open the door for Caligula and pull him into the building fast.
“Third floor,” I mutter to him. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
He’s been quiet all day. Hibernating in my room, sleeping a lot, eating what I put in front of him. But he nods.
“Your funeral,” I grunt.
“Not with you protecting me, Dami. Right?”
I’ve already mounted the old stairs, which are sagging under my feet, and I turn back to look at him. He’s not smirking. Not even close.
He’s dead serious.