Instead he said, “I need to make a call.”
The Sicilian nodded.
Laurent disappeared into the office corridor again.
This time he closed the door.
The spell over the restaurant loosened.
Diners began murmuring.
Silverware touched plates again.
Rick approached the alcove cautiously.
“Maya,” he whispered, “what just happened?”
She looked at the white tablecloth.
The gun remained where it had been placed.
But beside it now sat something far more dangerous to Laurent: his own handwriting.
“He thought nobody could understand the customer,” Maya said.
Rick glanced toward the closed office door.
“And you could.”
Maya nodded.
Minutes later, Laurent emerged without the authority he had carried into the alcove.
He had made his call.
Whatever had been said on the other end had removed the last of his resistance.
He informed the Sicilian, through Maya, that the original arrangement would be restored and the disputed records secured for review.
The boss listened.
Then he asked Maya whether Laurent had threatened her job.
Laurent stiffened.
Maya could have softened it.
She did not.
“Yes.”
The Sicilian turned to Laurent.
He spoke slowly enough that even without understanding the words, Laurent understood the tone.
Maya translated.
“He says retaliation would be another decision you may regret documenting.”
Laurent said nothing.
The boss finally picked up the pistol and returned it to his jacket.
The gesture allowed half the dining room to breathe again.
Then he stood.
His men stood with him.
Before leaving, he placed the cream envelope back in Maya’s hands.
She shook her head.
“It’s yours.”
He answered in the Sicilian dialect.
Maya translated for no one but herself.
Keep the copy.
Not as a reward.
As proof.
She looked at Laurent.
He understood that part without translation.
The six men walked through San Lorenza and out into the Manhattan night, leaving behind untouched wine, cooling food, and a room full of people suddenly fascinated by their plates.
For several seconds, Maya remained beside the empty chair.
Rick came closer.
“You realize you just contradicted Laurent in front of everybody.”
“I translated.”
“You translated him into a corner.”
Maya almost laughed.
Across the room, Laurent stood near the office corridor holding himself perfectly still.
Normally that look meant someone was about to lose a shift.
Tonight it meant something else.
He had discovered a limitation to the power he used so casually.
