Two days after the disappearance of Tortorelli, Terreti, and a million euros. I recognized them immediately. One of the pair was the guy in the white Fiat Punto who we’d blindsided at the service plaza. The other guy was a character with a peasant face and a cruel manner. They showed up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and they never missed an aperitif. They sat in watchful, attentive silence. Apparently I was the only person or object in which they showed no interest whatever. At first the waitstaff took them for cops. Then they figured out these guys must be on the other side of the law and they simply ignored them entirely. When I went to take orders at their table they kept their eyes glued to their menus. On Friday they started shadowing me. The following Monday they disappeared. As if they’d never existed. They didn’t reappear until that night. At Gemma’s apartment. The guy from the white Fiat Punto came to open the door. I feigned surprise and fear and he jerked his head wearily, signaling me inside.
