Grinder by Mike Knowles Page B

said.
    He looked away and nodded.
    “Why would anyone who worked for you make a move on the boys? It doesn't hurt you or your power base.”
    Paolo looked back at me and then at the table. “Lately Armando and Nicola have been using the computer. They put themselves on the Internet on this YouTube. They said some things and some names, and it all got put on the Internet.”
    I whistled low and found Paolo's eyes. Naming names could get you killed, even if you were the boss's nephews.
    “Do you not like your food, sir?” Yousif was back.
    “Not now,” I said.
    “Sir, we have many other dishes I can —”
    I cut him off. “Not now, Yousif.”
    He looked at me, his optimism cracked again. He spasmed, straightened, and then made a slow walk back to the kitchen.
    Paolo was still looking at me. “It sounds like they dug their own graves,” I said. “If they put names next to events.”
    “I know,” he said quietly. “But they were family.” His words hung in the air between us. They could have ignited the cold plate of food in front of him with their anger.
    “You want me to find out who did it?”
    “I want to know.”
    “You know what Army and Nicky did. They crossed a line. You can't start accusing your own people over two rats even if they have your DNA. If you knew who it was, no one would question your revenge, but to blindly go after everyone? No one will support that. And if I go around looking into it, everyone is going to know who put me up to it. This is going to dangle me in front of the city and hang you out to dry.”
    “I want to know.” His voice was loud. Yousif dropped a plate in back, probably terrified of the outburst.
    I stared into Paolo's fiery eyes. What he wanted would get me killed, and once people figured out Paolo was using me to look into his own people, he would be finished too. Paolo said family was the most important thing, but if he did this, he would betray his second family. Nothing could save him after that. Every ambitious gangster would pull a piece away from him until there was nothing left.
    We shared the silence until Paolo could take no more. “I want you to find out who did this, and then I want you to give them to me.”
    “No,” I said. “It's not a smart play.”
    Before I could say any more Paolo was talking. “I'm not asking, I'm telling you. You're going to do it, or I'm going to finish things with the bartender. You and him killed Tommy and his family for what? His slut wife? If you're not in with me,
figlio
, then I'll do it alone, but before I go down, I'll make things right with the bartender by first making things right with his missus. Once I use her up, I'll put that Irish dog down in the street. Then I'll find the fuck responsible for my nephews myself.”
    My hand pulsated on the gun under the table. I thought about killing Paolo in the restaurant, killing him and leaving, but he would have insurance.
    As if reading my thoughts, he spoke. “I got people watching them now. I can do it from beyond the grave if I have to.”
    Paolo had me and he knew it. My only connection to the city could still hurt me no matter how far I ran. I rubbed my jaw, forcing the muscles to relax and my teeth to stop grinding. “Who did Army and Nicky name?” I asked.
    “Bombedieri, Perino, and Rosa.”
    “What did they say?”
    “You can see for yourself,” he said, and reached into his pants.
    I tensed and he said, “Easy,
figlio.”
    He produced a piece of paper folded over twice. He left it beside the cold plate and stood up. “Call me when you have a name. And I don't want none of this to lead back to me. I go down, I'm taking mister and missus Irish with me, and those two have a lot farther to fall than I do.”
    He waved goodbye to Yousif, who moved out from the kitchen to hold the door for him. “Nice place you got here,” Paolo said.
    “Thank you, sir,” Yousif said timidly.
    “You should think about serving some pasta, not this foreign shit. Even the