her. In a grotesque way it confirmed what she had just said.
Alessandro turned to look at her. “I’ve made worse decisions that were easier for me, all the same. But this is about Fundling. He and I grew up together. Reading the word dead in his files was almost as bad as seeing him lying here. However, now no one will ask any more questions about what happened at Gibellina. Plus, he’s safe only as long as no one knows he’s here. Word got around that he was working for the judge, and as you know, that’s something the clans would never forgive.”
“But he’s in a coma!”
“It hasn’t been that long here since babies were thrown into vats of acid because their fathers had given evidence against Cosa Nostra to the state prosecutor. Do you think Fundling’s condition would stop people bent on that kind of revenge?”
“He can hardly be any quieter than he is.”
“Fundling will wake up again one day.”
“You think so?” she asked sadly.
He pressed his lips together until all the blood drained out of them. Then he nodded. “Yes.”
She turned back to the bed. The nurse had been right. At first sight Fundling did seem peaceful. Only if you looked more closely did it seem as if a silent battle were raging behind that lifeless mask. Rosa wasn’t sure what to make of it. In the first few days his eyes had moved beneath their lids, but that had stopped some time ago. His features were still now, and yet she thought she saw movement behind them. As if she could see him thinking—thinking and feeling.
It occurred to her that the flowers hid the picture that Iole had left beside Fundling’s hospital bed. The photo of Fundling’s dog, Sarcasmo. Rosa stood up, moved the vase aside, and pulled the frame closer to the edge of the bedside table. Maybe it was pointless, but she wanted Fundling to see the photograph if he ever opened his eyes again. He and Sarcasmo had been inseparable, and even after four months she felt every day how much the dog missed him.
Maybe he could hear everything they said. It seemed strange to her to talk to him when there was anyone else present—even Alessandro—and she decided to come by herself next time.
Alessandro followed her eyes to the photo of the dog and smiled sadly. “Iole says that whatever happens, she’s not giving him up.”
“She loves Sarcasmo.”
“I phoned her while you were gone. She sounded cheerful. The lessons seem to be doing her good.”
“She’s driving her tutor crazy. Instead of studying, she’s been sitting down in the cellar for days on end trying out numerical combinations on a lock.”
“She was locked up herself for six years. If anyone knows how to occupy herself on her own, it’s Iole.”
“But she doesn’t need to do that anymore.” Another of those maternal remarks—she could have kicked herself.
“How many of your old habits have you abandoned since you came to Italy?”
“I’m not stealing now,” she said defiantly. “Well, not often.”
“You’re the head of a Cosa Nostra clan,” he said, amused. “You steal nonstop, twenty-four hours a day, without ever lifting a finger yourself.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Tell that to the judge.”
His grin infected her, and she leaned forward and gave him a long kiss.
Suddenly it was as if she felt Fundling’s eyes on her. But when she reluctantly moved her lips away from Alessandro’s and looked at the sleeping man, he still lay there with his lids closed, the same as ever.
Alessandro was smiling so irresistibly that she found it difficult to change the subject. “I’m going to see Trevini tomorrow,” she said.
“Better leave him alone, if you ask me.”
“I have to rely on him. He’s the only one who knows all about the business affairs of the Alcantaras.”
“He sent you that video to drive a wedge between us. Maybe even to make you turn to him. So how straightforward do you think his intentions are where your business is concerned?”
“If he really has the profits of the Alcantara companies at heart, as he says, he can’t ignore our relationship,” she said. “Suppose we took it into our heads to merge the business of both clans?”
He laughed—a bitter laugh. “We wouldn’t survive ten minutes. Trevini’s not the only one who would—”
“You underestimate him.”
“One more reason for you not to go and see him alone. Wheelchair-bound or not, he’s dangerous. You don’t know what he’s planning or what surprises he still has up his sleeve. That video was