ONE WEEK LATER
The night was warm and hanging in the air was a promise of something great that would be remembered for centuries to come.
Across the building that doubled as a church and also a meeting spot for corrupt politicians, a car parked and two men rested against it, smoking, whilst staring at the building.
"I think Luciano had the right idea waiting for a moment like this to capitalize, instead of storming into the parliament in the day," Vittorio said, dragging and then passing the joint to Salvatore.
"Yeah, he has always had a thing for grand gestures like this anyway. Thankfully, his shoulder is all healed up nicely. They won't expect him to come."
"They won't expect Giorgio there either. How many delegates?"
"About ten representing different countries."
"Good."
"And you?" He asked, passing the joint back to Vittorio.
"And me what?"
"Since when did you start smoking grass? Especially before a job?"
