By 7:40, the doors of warehouse 4 were already raised, but no one was loading anything.
Luca Ruggiero understood before getting out of the car. The handlers wore their vests, pallet trucks stood lined beneath the fluorescent lights, two refrigerated trucks waited with engines off along the loading dock. The work had everything it needed to begin except noise. In a company like theirs, silence was never a breakdown; it was an instruction.
Ciro came toward him chewing a toothpick. He wore no coat despite the morning damp. A drop of coffee had dried into a brown star on his white shirt.
“Your father’s inside.”
“Since when?”
“Since someone explained we’d lost two hundred and eighty thousand euros and the man who kept the ledger.”
Luca closed the car door. Beyond the warehouses, the port could be made out in low mist, stacked container silhouettes and, farther away, a strip of pewter-colored sea. He had slept three hours. At midnight he was still in their restaurant office checking fish invoices. At two, Paolo Iannone had stopped answering. At 5:12, Paolo’s car had been found outside a closed garage in Gianturco, empty, clean, locked.
Luca’s phone vibrated. His sister.
SOFIA: Don’t let Ciro touch anyone before I get there.
He put the phone away without replying.
“Who’s here?” he asked.
“Massimo Miele. His brother’s outside.”
“Why Massimo?”
Ciro gave a small shrug.
“Because Paolo talked to him yesterday. Because Massimo owes money. Because Massimo’s still breathing and Paolo isn’t answering.”
“That’s a dog’s logic.”
“Dogs find plenty of things.”
Luca walked past him.
End of excerpt. Discover the other stories in this universe.