Stone recognized the voice from the other side of the door. “I wonder if we could talk about this for just a minute?”
“Nope. You’re all out of time.” He waved the shotgun toward the door.
Stone and Holly got up from their crates and walked out of the room. The lights were on in the cellar. They were led between rows of stacked goods to the other end, where two sweating men with shovels stood by a large hole. Two bags of lime sat next to the hole.
The smells in the cellar were of cheese, fresh fruit, and fresh earth. These were the last scents they would ever smell. “I wonder if I could get you to make just one phone call before you do this?” Stone asked.
“Nope.” He shoved them so that they were standing at one end of the hole, then he and another man with a shotgun took up positions a few feet away.
“You’ve got my cell phone. The call is to Eduardo Bianchi,” he said.
The men stared at him dumbly.
“All you have to do is push send twice, and you’ll be connected. He was the last person I called, and the number is already in there.”
Nobody moved.
“I really do think it would be in your best interests to speak to Mr. Bianchi before you do this.”
The man finally spoke. “You know Eduardo Bianchi?”
“I know him very well,” Stone said. “I was nearly his son-in-law.”
“Dino Bacchetti is his son-in-law.”
“Dolce and I were engaged, before she . . . got sick.”
The man stared at him for a long time. “You understand it would be very embarrassing for me if I called Mr. Bianchi and he didn’t know you or want to hear from you?”
“I assure you, you won’t be embarrassed.”
“If I’m embarrassed, then I’m going to hurt you before I kill you. The lady, too. You understand?”
“I understand perfectly.”
The man held out a hand to one of his colleagues. “Gimme his phone.”
The man handed him Stone’s phone.
“Just press send twice,” Stone said.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” The man pressed the button twice and waited. “Nobody’s answering,” he said.
“He was there earlier, just before you, ah, invited us in here.”
“Hello?” the man said, then he started speaking Italian.
Stone caught the words “Don Eduardo.”
He stopped speaking, then started again, apparently speaking to Eduardo, then he stopped. “What’s your name?” he said to Stone.
“You were going to kill me, and you don’t even know who I am?”
“I know who the lady is; that’s enough.”
“My name is Stone Barrington.”
The man repeated this into the telephone. “Sì. Sì. Sì. Grazie, Don Eduardo.” He closed the phone and handed it to Stone. “Don Eduardo knows you,” he said.