Page 306 of Marcello

Giulietta.

“I’m trying to save the life of the girl I love,” I said quietly. “This guy and his friends are going to help me – but I’m going to have to betray my bosses in the Camorra. All this information’s worth a lot of money, old man… but if you want to collect on it, you’re going to have to work with those pieces of shit you hate so much.”

’O Munaciello leaned back in his seat and looked at me as though pondering something.

Finally, he turned to Lars and said in heavily accented Italian, “This asshole says you’ll pay me a lot of money if I take you and some friends back in the tunnels.”

“We will,” Lars confirmed.

“How much money?”

Lars reached into his jacket, pulled out a crisp stack of bills wrapped in a paper band, and placed it on the break room table.

I knew from experience that it was 10,000 euros – over $11,000 US.

“I’m authorized to give you this just for agreeing to meet with my employers,” Lars said.

The old man looked down at the money, then back up at Lars. “You’re not Camorra?”

“No,” Lars said. “We want to KILL the Camorra.”

My heart froze in my chest.

What the fuck is he doing?!

A delighted grin spread across ’o Munaciello’s face. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. “These friends of yours… I’d like to meet them.”

Lars made a call. Five minutes later, Dario, Niccolo, Adriano, and the other brothers came in through a fire exit that opened onto a side street. A couple of their black-suited thugs accompanied them.

“This is our guide?” Niccolo asked about ’o Munaciello.

“Yes,” I started –

“Maybe,” the old man interrupted. “Where do you want to go?”

Niccolo pulled out a laptop and pointed at a map of Naples on the screen. Amato’s mansion was marked by a red dot. “Can you get us here?”

’O Munaciello rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure.”

“There’s a well on the property,” I said.

“Then I can definitely get you there.” The old man got a crafty look in his eye. “But why should I?”

Roberto stepped forward with a briefcase and opened it to reveal dozens of banded stacks of money – at least a quarter million euros.

The old man whistled. “Looks like you want to get there awful bad.”

“We do,” Dario said.

“Your blond friend says you’re going to kill a bunch of Camorra. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you want them dead?”

Dario’s face darkened. “Because one of them nearly beat my pregnant wife and unborn child to death.”

’O Munaciello regarded the mafia don for a moment… then nodded.