Nico didn't hesitate. He stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard, pulling his satellite phone from his jacket.
"Petyr," Nico commanded softly into the mic. "Your scouts flagged Castellano's lieutenant near the northern pass. I want that cell shut down before midnight."
"Already moving, Don Nico," Petyr's heavy Russian accent came through the speaker. "Marco Vitale's men locked the border checkpoints ten minutes ago. Castellano's lieutenant has nowhere to run. We intercept him at the toll gate."
"No noise," Nico instructed coldly. "Make sure no one ever asks about the Como municipal archives again."
"Consider it done," Petyr grunted. "The pass is secured."
The line cut out.
Nico stood on the balcony for a long moment, watching the evening mist settle over the pine trees along the perimeter fence. The last threat from Don Castellano's broken network was being erased. The shadows that had haunted his mother for fourteen years were finally receding.
