Chapter 1 - The Smallest Threat in the Room
The first gun came out before the little girl finished introducing herself.
“I'm your new bodyguard,” Mia announced, standing in the middle of Lorenzo Cattaneo's private study.
Four armed men surrounded the desk. One reached for her shoulder. Another looked at the boss, waiting for permission to laugh. Lorenzo lowered his newspaper, saw the oversized black jacket hanging off Mia's narrow frame, and lost the fight against a laugh he had not allowed himself in eleven years.
The newspaper slid to the floor.
Mia frowned. “This is a serious job.”
That made him laugh harder.
She had stuffed one sleeve with a rolled-up sock. A length of electrical wire curled behind her ear like an earpiece. Her shoes didn't match. The left one had a pink star on it; the right one was a muddy sneaker.
“What's your name?” Lorenzo asked when he could finally breathe.
“Mia.”
“Last name?”
“Depends who's asking.”
The guards exchanged looks. Lorenzo's smile faded a little.
“I'm asking.”
“Then it's Bellini.”
The name landed in the room like a dropped glass. Bellini was the surname of a driver who had vanished six months earlier after a convoy was ambushed. Luca Bellini had been loyal, quiet, and dead, according to the report Lorenzo had signed.
“Who let you in here?” he asked.
“Nobody. The side door sticks if you lift it before you push.”
“That door has a keypad.”
“It's broken.”
Lorenzo looked at his security chief, Raffaele Moretti. Raffaele's expression didn't move, but his right hand tightened around his belt.
“Everyone out,” Lorenzo said.
“Boss—”
“Now.”
The guards left. Raffaele hesitated, then followed them, closing the door.
Mia stepped closer to the desk. “You need someone who notices things.”
“I have forty men who notice things.”
“They notice what's outside.” She pointed at the windows. “I notice what's wrong inside.”
Lorenzo leaned back. “Such as?”
“The kitchen clock is seven minutes slow. The east gate guard changes shifts early on Thursdays. And the man who brings your coffee puts the cup down with his left hand, even though he's right-handed.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because yesterday he had a bandage on his right palm. Today he doesn't.”
Lorenzo's eyes sharpened.
Mia glanced at the door. “Also, your driver isn't dead.”
The room seemed to lose its air.
“Who told you that?”
“My dad.”
Lorenzo stood so fast his chair struck the wall. “Where is Luca?”
Mia swallowed. The brave look slipped for half a second.
“He told me to give you this if men started asking about the blue room.”
She pulled a brass key from the pocket of the enormous jacket and set it on the desk.
Lorenzo recognized it. It opened a room that had been sealed since his wife died.
May you like
Then the lights went out.
And from the hallway came the sound of a lock turning.
