The hum of the old ceiling fan filled the cramped office as Arturo leaned over a desk, eyes fixed on the computer screen. Luca stood behind him, arms crossed, restless.
They had been waiting for almost an hour.
Finally, a crackle came through the speaker.
“Arturo,” a deep voice said, slightly distorted. “It was hard, man. Military encryption is no joke—but just like you suspected… It's Rosa Bianca.”
Arturo’s jaw tightened. “Grazie, amico. I owe you one.” He shut the laptop and turned to Luca, his face grim. “We don’t have much time. We have to tell Leonardo immediately.”
Minutes later, they were tearing down the road toward the Gold estate, the tires spitting gravel.
In the passenger seat, Luca glanced at him. “Alright, Arturo… who the hell are they?”
Arturo’s eyes stayed on the roa
