( THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA ) - [ CHAPTER FORTY ] - { PT. 1 }

{ PT.  1 }  - The white Mercedes crawled along the cobbled road before parking in front of the sun-brick Renaissance apartment block where Frya and her father lived. At three in the morning, the streets slumbered as soundly as the local residents. Alessandro and Vincenzo stepped out of the car with Don Primo, while Benito remained in the driver's seat. I want this to go smoothly, said Don Prmio pulling on his jacket sleeves. Just Angelica. Kill the rest, but do it quietly. Let's move. They reached a set of glass double doors, and Don Primo rapped firmly on the window. The concierge looked up from his book to see two fingers flashing the peace sign in his direction. Recognising his cue, her nervously stood up and opened the door, standing back to let the men inside. You have what I asked for? said Don Primo. Yes, Sir, he replied as he reached a quivering hand into his pocket and removed a key. He handed it to Don Primo, who slapped a large handful of bills into his palm. Thank you, Sir, said the concierge, pushing the money into his pocket. Take the lift to the top floor. There's only one apartment per floor. Make yourself scarce for at least an hour, said Don Primo. Yes, Sir. Don Primo moved in close to his face. You breathe a word of this, and you will never breathe again. You understand? The concierge reeled back and took a nervous gulp as his face turned a pallid shade of death. Yes. . . Sir. Now go, said Don Primo.                                                                                              _______________________________________________________  

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