“Well, now, my friend, there’s something you can do for me.” He paused, but the other man said nothing, so he continued. “There’s a man called Kelly in my tent right now. An ugly little person with a terrible squint. My servants are feeding him and tending him. He’s been a little bruised around the face, poor man.”

“Yes, signor?” Luciano was an experienced mercenary and assassin. He could see through the false concern in Tennyson’s voice. There was usually only one reason for an employer to point out a third party to a Genovesan, he knew.

“When he leaves my tent, follow him and wait for a moment when there’s no one around.”

“And then what should I do, signor?” But Luciano already knew what Tennyson wanted, and a wolfish smile was creasing his face in anticipation.

“Then you should kill him, Luciano. Then you should kill him.”

Luciano’s smile broadened, matched by an answering smile on Tennyson’s face. The two men looked into each other’s eyes and understood each other perfectly.

“Oh, one other thing, Luciano,” Tennyson added as an afterthought. The Genovesan said nothing but arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’ll find a gold chain on his person. He stole it from me. Bring it back to me when the job’s done.”

“It shall be as you say, signor,” Luciano said. And Tennyson, still smiling, nodded in satisfaction.

“I know,” he replied.

The Kings of Clonmel, Chapter 32