Chapter 7. To Kill a Criminal

MAXIMILIANO

"Hey. You busy?"

"Depends." I sat back after accepting the video call request from the unregistered number. A new one, but I'd already memorized the last digits before Niccolo sent me new updates on the Interpol guy's activities.

He tilted his chin and eyed what my camera showed him. A white coat partly covered his black shirt. "You look busy."

"You look like shit." I positioned my phone beside the greasy rag on my desk. By "shit", I meant he looked marginally better than the last time we hung out.

For the first time in a while, he looked like he got a good night's sleep. Niccolo leaned closer to his phone, probably another burner. His brown eyes squinted at me. His grimace deepened as if my pastime disgusted him. "Che cazzo fai?" [What the fuck are you doing?]

"Cleaning my birthday gift."

"From who?"

"Pappa."

Niccolo shook his shaved head. The video feed on my screen lagged a bit.

"What?" The smooth barrel glin