Chương 24: Read the Room

Palazzo Valperga's back entrance was quiet at midday, which was how it should be. Dario came in alone, nodded to the man on the door, and took the stairs up to the fourth-floor office. He found Cecilia there already, standing at the window with Matteo and looking down into the cortile. Bianca sat at the desk with a map of Aurora in front of her, though she was just running a pencil along a street and not seeming to write anything. No Ruggiero.

Dario looked to the back of the room, as if he'd find him lurking behind the door. It was unusual not to have all of them present for a real meeting.

"He's securing a secondary property," Cecilia said without looking back. She had that way of catching your attention without actually paying attention herself.

"One with fewer neighbors. A place for some of the recruits we won't keep here."

"Not worried he'll miss something?" he asked, coming to the desk.

"I heard you have plans."

"He doesn't need to be involved in every planning meeting," Cecilia said.

"It's a long habit to break. Yours as much as his." He smiled at her, just slightly. She caught it in the reflection of the glass.

"Is there coffee?" he asked. Bianca made a face.

"Matteo made it."

"Ah." He poured himself a cup anyway and leaned against the edge of the desk. Bianca didn't move away from him. She liked him best at the periphery of her space.

"I did try to kill him properly," Matteo said mildly.

"You're forgiven," Dario said. He sipped the drink and turned to Cecilia.

"Okay. Tell me I'm not about to tell you to do something stupid." Cecilia left the window and sat on the arm of a chair rather than the chair itself, which was a sign she didn't want to look static. Her heels were off, and she held one in her free hand, turning it between her fingers. He wasn't the only one who had chosen clothes that felt like himself today.

"The military is holding its own command center at Caselle Airport," she said.

"They're rebuilding on-site with the assets they still have. There's a forward position at the Carabinieri headquarters near Superga. Some patrols have resumed in the city center." She paused.

"And this morning, they announced the formation of a Civil Security Coalition, under the direction of a senior commander named Fedele Gasparini. They're recruiting civilians for a Reconstruction Unit. The application process is already running." He took that in, then glanced at the map on the desk.

"So they've given up trying to restore public order themselves and they're trying to build a volunteer police force." Matteo nodded.

"Effectively, yes. They're using the language of continuity, but the reality is resource pooling." Dario finished the coffee and set the cup down. He thought about the announcement's timing, the name they'd chosen, the official channels they'd used to push it out at first light. Then he thought about what Cecilia hadn't said yet. She'd taken the time to set up the context before delivering the core problem, which meant it was a bigger problem than it appeared.

"How are they recruiting?" he asked.

"Through the university and civil service channels," Cecilia said.

"Also, a public bulletin at Porta Palazzo and other high-traffic areas." He exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh.

"Of course." Of all the things he hadn't expected to see this morning, the military choosing to open a recruitment drive in the one market square where he had eyes, where he had influence, and where Fatima would tell him who had put a sign up before it had even dried. But he should have expected it. The Carabinieri had always used public information as much as they used private. They didn't put out a notice without planning the first wave of applications.

"Which means you're thinking about a counter-move," he said. Cecilia tilted her head, as if the suggestion was interesting. She still hadn't stopped turning the heel in her fingers.

"It's premature. The coalition hasn't even established its base yet. And we're still gathering strength ourselves. But we don't have unlimited time to wait."

"They'll be faster than we are to move," Matteo said.

"And they have institutional credibility we don't. The citizens will listen to them in the early stages of this new normal, regardless of the gap between their claims and their ability."

"Sure," Dario said. He sat fully on the edge of the desk now, close enough that Bianca had to shift her balance or push him off, and she shifted.

"They can promise safety in numbers, people will take it. It's simple, it's public, and it's official. They can't back it up, and we all know that, but it won't matter in week one." Cecilia turned the heel once more and then set it carefully on the floor beside her.

"So the solution isn't to argue with them. We need to do what they can't: demonstrate actual control, offer something they can't match, and build on what's already working. Which is our territory." She looked at Dario directly.

"I'm open to ideas on how to turn that into a statement." He nodded, unsurprised she was asking. It was why he'd been invited to the meeting. He ran the words over in his mind for a second, then let it take shape.

"It's going to be messy," he said.

"If it's clean, it won't look real," Bianca said. He gave her a half-smile for the contribution.

"Yeah. Alright. You'll want to bring in Boris. He'll know the people on their side who are worth talking to."

"Why?" Matteo asked.

"We have our own contacts with the police and military."

"Sure, but he's their contemporary, not yours. He's not Leonelli, so he can play the bridge. Plus, he kept his people alive and organized when they didn't." Dario leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Let the coalition do their public recruitment. Let them put the posters up and run the process. They'll get people. Some of those people will be good ones. Some of them will be deadweight who just want a uniform again. Here's the part that gets under their skin: we don't need the numbers because we have the efficiency." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Cecilia didn't interrupt. She was waiting for the punchline.

"Set up an informal recognition," Dario said.

"Through Boris, we tell certain members of the coalition that the Quadrilatero will support any of their personnel who want to be part of our security. Offer them better equipment, better terms, and a better chance of living through the next night. It's not official, so Gasparini doesn't have to acknowledge it or reject it. It's just word on the street. The good ones will see the value. The bad ones won't even know it's an offer." He gestured loosely toward the window.

"And while they're sorting their new volunteers, we're getting theirs." Bianca's face was doing something subtle in the way she got when she liked a plan. Matteo was still evaluating.

"How do you prevent bleed-over?" Cecilia asked.

"If people leave the coalition and join us, it risks becoming a public feud."

"It doesn't look like that if they stay on their jobs," Dario said.

"Most of them aren't going to quit the uniform. They'll just... moonlight with people who give them real weapons and a higher survival rate. Make it a personal arrangement. Keep it quiet for as long as possible. When Gasparini figures out what's happening, we'll have a core of defectors inside their structure, and they'll be too invested to go back. If he tries to push them out, we've just strengthened our base and weakened his command. Either way, we win."

Matteo made a sound that was almost approval but not quite.

"You're suggesting a loyalty conflict."

"I'm suggesting an opportunity." He looked from him to Cecilia.

"The System changed the stakes. The old way to do this was through leverage over superiors or criminal connections. The new way is: prove your operation actually works, and the right people will climb in the window. We don't have to go to them. They'll come here." Cecilia was silent for a moment. Dario watched her work through the angles, calculating the edges of what would happen. The look that crossed her face wasn't quite pride, because she already knew she had good people.

It was closer to satisfaction at seeing a hypothesis validated. She reached down for her shoes and slid her feet back into them.

"I like it. I'll handle Boris. Bianca, keep tracking the coalition's moves from your side. Matteo, make sure the Quadrilatero is prepared for more personnel in the next forty-eight hours." Matteo inclined his head. Dario straightened up from the desk and stretched. He felt loose. There was energy in this kind of work, the kind of move that happened early before everyone had caught up to the new reality and tried to build barricades against it.

"If you're moving forward with this, let me handle the rollout at Porta Palazzo. Fatima will spread the word better than anyone we could send." Cecilia's eyes narrowed slightly.

"You trust her that much?"

"I trust her to act in her own interest. And her interest right now is with whoever can keep her market open and safe. If she doesn't see that in us, she'll switch. So we need her to see it." He knew from her expression that she'd been about to order him to stay away from the market entirely for the next twenty-four hours until the messages were done being delivered. The thing was, he wouldn't stay away, and she knew that. This way was less of a waste of time.

"Fine," she said.

"Coordinate with Bianca. But if I hear anything about you picking a direct fight with Gasparini's recruiters, you'll be doing clerical work for Luca until you're back in my good graces."

"That won't be necessary," he said, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Unless you're thinking of making that a standing order." She gave him the look that meant no, she wasn't, and that he was also exactly correct about where the lines were, for now. He liked that about her—the ability to recognize a joke, even when it involved her being the target.

"Don't make a mess I have to clean," she said, which was her way of letting him have the job. He inclined his head.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Matteo glanced between them, the way he did sometimes when he was the only man left in a room with the women running the world. It wasn't discomfort; he just found their rhythm interesting.

"We're all agreed, then," he said, stepping into the conversation before it could veer further into something personal.

"Dario on the message. Bianca on the delivery. Cece and I will monitor responses and adjust the strategy."

"Anything else from the market?" Cecilia asked, looking to Dario. He told her about the three, and about the honey in his bag, which he was now thinking of as a strategic asset and not just lunch. She asked the questions he expected, and he answered the way he always did, until she had what she needed. Then she sat on the edge of the desk and looked at him in a way that told him this was about to shift from business to something else.

"You've adapted quickly," she said.

"The game changed, but it's still a game."

"Is it?" He met her eyes. There was a part of her that had always been a mystery to him, a section that lived behind the business mind and the controlled demeanor. It wasn't the personal part of her—that had been Bianca's to deal with for a long time, and he was honestly relieved. It was the part that had held a city's attention without ever raising her voice, that could take power without seeming to want it.

It didn't come out often, but when it did, she was watching for what happened next in a way that reminded him that she wasn't finished shaping him into whatever kind of asset was still useful. And Dario, for all his love of being impossible to pin down, found that more compelling than anything. La Capetta. Little Boss. A name that fit her like a pair of good gloves and was a thousand times more dangerous.

He'd wondered for years how she would have gotten on in the online games he played, where reputation traveled faster than gunfire, and the social dynamics ran deeper than most people would ever be ready to admit. Now he had his answer. She'd have run one of the best organizations on any server, because she understood incentives without needing a UI to spell them out.

"You seem pleased," he said.

"That we're about to pick a fight with the military." She looked back toward the window.

"I'm not picking a fight. I'm defining what a fight looks like when it happens. If they respond with force, they'll look bad. If they don't, they look weak. Either way, we win." He smiled a little.

"Che bella."

"I'm planning to win, Dario. What are you planning?" The way she said his name—casually, but with her attention still on him—made it feel like she was sitting in the room with the version of him that wasn't all clever jokes and deflection. That part of him was just watching now, quiet and focused, the way he got when a game was down to the last play and he was calculating whether the risk was worth it.

"The same," he said.

"I'm planning to win." She looked at him then, and for once, she wasn't reading him. She was just letting him see that he was reading her right. The acknowledgment landed, and so did everything that came with it. Her trust. His responsibility. The shift in the space between them from lieutenant and capo to something else that wouldn't change how they worked, but would make a difference in whether he let himself sleep at three in the morning after a day of keeping things light enough to stay alive.

"You should go to Lingotto," she said, standing up from the desk. He followed the shift to business easily.

"Now?"

"There's a meeting tonight," she said, already moving toward the door.

"The Fiat complex. Someone wants to present themselves as the voice of the local industry. Bring Silvio and Nadia." He laughed once.

"Great. I should bring flowers."

"If you think it'll work, do it." She paused at the door.

"But don't insult them. We're taking over, Dario, but we're going to need that industry intact when we're done." He tapped two fingers against his chest.

"Understood. I can play nice." Bianca made a small sound that wasn't quite a snort but would have been from anyone else. Cecilia didn't react, which was the same thing she always did when she knew how the joke worked but didn't want to give Bianca the satisfaction. She looked from one of them to the other, then at the clock on the desk.

"Sixteen hundred, on the road," she said.

"Get ready." He followed her out. If there was a meeting tonight, the day was just getting started.