“In Valturno,” Antonio answered in a harsh voice.
“Great. Stay where you are, I’ll visit you there in a week myself.” With these words Caesaro stood up, patted Antonio on his shoulder, and hastily left the restaurant.
Antonio looked at the money. “I couldn’t have earned this amount at the port even for three months’ work. What sort of a job is he going to offer me, I wonder?”
He put the money into the inner pocket of his jacket.
***
Some light music was playing in the foyer of the hotel. Antonio was sitting in an armchair, reading a newspaper, smoking a cigar and sipping some red wine when he heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Good evening, my friend.”
Antonio turned round and stood up. There was Caesaro standing there with a broad smile on his face.
“Please don’t get up,” he said and sat down into another armchair. “I’ve got good news for you. Now it’s up to you to decide. We’d better go upstairs and have a quiet talk there.
Antonio agreed.
Several minutes later the two were sitting on Antonio’s balcony. Caesaro was not in a hurry. He took out his cigarette and started to smoke. The smile had disappeared from his face which now looked inflexible.
“I’ve spoken to my friends about you. They are suggesting you a very serious business. You’ll be paid well. You will be able to pay me back and keep quite a considerable sum for yourself. If you do your job well, you’ll have a lot of orders.”
“I... I can’t go back to my craft, you know,” Antonio muttered. Caesaro gave him an evil giggle.
“Do you think anyone is going to pay you well for mixing clay?! I’m talking about something quite different.”
“Okay, okay! What shall I do?”
“Now listen to me very attentively and mind, if you can’t do your job properly, they’ll send us both to hell!”
“Yes, but... You haven’t told me yet what you want, and you are already threatening me...”
“You can refuse, of course. But in such a case, you’ll have to return your debt immediately.”
“It would be much better to tell me directly what I am expected to do.”
Caesaro took a big photo out of his pocket and put it on the table, in front of Antonio.
“Who’s this?” Antonio asked in a low voice.
“It doesn’t matter. The name and the address are written here. Read them, remember them and burn the photo. You’ll be given the gun tomorrow. I think everything is clear to you. You should do it within a week’s time.”
“We haven’t agreed on such a thing!” Antonio’s mouth went too dry to say more.
“You’ve assured me several times that you were ready to take up any business. But there is no use discussing the matter now. If you refuse, you’ll have to pay your debt right now.”
“I need some time. I’ll pay you back the whole sum.”
“Don’t interrupt me. There is another detail to be taken into consideration – you know everything about the target now. Do you think they will let you go alive? You are the witness! They will hire another killer and merely give him two orders.”
Antonio felt desperate. Everything mixed up in his head. The fragments of Katanzaro, his workshop, his father’s face, his crockery, the Magliano brand label, Naples, the docks and the stranger – everything speeded in front of his feverish eyes.
“Don’t you dare to think about going to police! Your time is up. They’ll visit you on my behalf tomorrow and bring you the gun. They’ll give you the instructions. It’s not so hard, believe me.
Caesaro stood up and, before Antonio could answer anything, left his apartment.
***
Antonio woke up early next morning. He went to the restaurant. The restaurant was closed. So he sat in the hall and waited. He drank three glasses of grappa and thought nobody was going to visit him. He checked the time. It was already nine. He bought a bottle of grappa and went back to his apartment. It was raining outside. So he didn’t go out onto the verandah. He drank some more wine but stayed sober. He lay on his bed. The time went on very slowly. It was about eleven when there came a knock at the door. He got up reluctantly and shuffled to the door. He opened the door and saw a tall, thin, elderly man. The man entered the room not even greeting him. He shut the door behind him calmly, and told Antonio:
“Sit down, we are short of time.”
Antonio sat on his bed.
“Now listen to me very attentively. I am from Caesaro. You know everything about the target. It’s better to shoot at him near his house. It’s in a peaceful street. Don’t go there in the morning; evening is better. People are already tired, you know. Some are even drunk. Throw away the gun immediately. Don’t wear the clothes you’ll be wearing at that moment either after or before you do your job. Put on a cap of a smaller size than usual. Take it off and throw it into the litter bin. Shoot at him twice, and when he falls down, shoot a control shot at his head. It’ll be enough. Then go away quietly, don’t run. In fifty meters from his house there is a narrow street. Study your route well in advance. From that street you must turn to the central one and take a taxi. Don’t get out of the car at the hotel; get out about three hundred meters away. Don’t leave the hotel that day. You should not go out for several days more. Stay here and wait till Caesaro visits you. And mind, you should stay sober! Have you ever shot a gun?”
“Only a rifle.”
“Take it,” the man handed him a revolver. “Unload it and practice shooting. Your hand should not tremble.”
Antonio took the revolver with a trembling hand.
“How do I unload it?”
The man took the gun and took six bullets out of it very swiftly.
“I can’t do it!” Antonio muttered.
“It’s your problem,” answered the man. I also advise you not to shoot at him right away. You just pass him by the very first day and come back to the hotel. It’s better that way. And yes, Caesaro sent it to you,” he added and threw a pack of money on the table. Having done so, he disappeared behind the door.
***
Six years passed. Antonio fulfilled fourteen orders in Rome, Pescara, Campobasso, Poja, and the majority in Naples. He frequently changed the hotels. For some time now he was staying at the “Fernandina”. He was too nervous before each order and full of regret afterwards. He couldn’t get used to his “job”. He dealt only with Caesaro and never met those who made the orders. Neither did they know Antonio in person. He never took interest in his victims. It was much easier that way. He was never short of money; on the contrary – they paid him more than enough. But he sometimes still missed Catanzaro, his family, and the Magliano brand label. He was free of the old insult and didn’t care who put the stamp on the crockery. All these turned into the sweet memories now, and he felt a bit nostalgic.
He met Caesaro rather rarely now, and their meetings were brief and businesslike. He led a solitary life. They knew him by name in a few restaurants where nobody ever asked how he got his money and simply treated him as a businessman. One day, on coming back from a walk, he met Caesaro.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,” Caesaro said. ‘I’ve got a serious matter to discuss with you.”
Antonio was familiar with such offers, so he answered in a low voice:
“Let’s go upstairs, to my room.”
“No. You’d better come to my place at nine in the evening. I’ll explain everything clearly to you there.”
“Okay,” Antonio answered and they parted.
***
It was nine sharp when Antonio knocked at Caesaro’s door. Caesaro opened the door himself and showed Antonio into the room. There was a stranger in the room, and Antonio got startled. They had never talked in anybody’s presence. Before he asked anything, Caesaro began to speak:
“Meet my friend, Alberto. Be sure, he’s the same as me.”
Antonio took his sit. He seemed a bit gloomy.