The Mafia King of Philadelphia: From witness to his doted wife

”Yes, Don,” the one with the tablet said carefully. ”The blood works as a blueprint. The markers are there, and they are strong. We can see the structure.” He tapped the screen.

”But a blueprint is only part of the picture. We would need a full body examination to reach a conclusive answer. Her organs, her tissue, her bone marrow. Without those, I cannot promise it can be done.”

”Can it be done or not?”

”I cannot say yet. I can only say that it is possible.” The Don considered this. He tapped two fingers slowly against his sleeve.

”Then work with the blood first,” he said. ”Tell me everything you find. And test it against the other viruses. All of them. I want to know which ones it resists.”

”Yes, Don.”

”I already know that AW01 did not touch her.” His eyes narrowed. None of the doctors asked what he meant. They had worked for him too long.

”And keep it quiet,” he said. ”I mean quiet. Nothing goes outside this room. Not to the guards, not to the staff. Not to my wife.” He paused. ”Not to anyone at all.”

”Yes, Don.”

He turned away and walked a few steps along the wall of charts. His hand lifted, and he almost touched one of the scans. Sienna’s name was written at the top, in someone’s careful pen.

”Katalia is still very edgy,” he said. ”And very angry. She does not trust me. Bringing her down here for a full-body analysis is not possible. Not now.” He was speaking half to the doctors and half to himself. ”I will tell you when we can proceed. First I have to win her over.”

He pressed his lips together. ”Which is why I am at a loss.” The doctors stayed very still.

”Nothing impresses her.” He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment he looked old. ”I showed her the vault. Twenty years of gifts, the rarest things in the world. She looked at them like they were paper. I showed her the lab, the research. She walked away.” He let out a short, tired breath. ”I took her to see Capri. I gave her his life, and she did not even thank me.”

He shook his head slowly.

”If only she were like the fake one. Like Aliya.” His mouth twisted. ”I would not have to struggle. All I had to do with that girl was throw money. A necklace here, a car there, and she was mine. She would have done anything I asked.”

He laughed once, without joy.

”This one is different. She is hard.”

It sounded like a complaint. It sounded like something else too, something he had not noticed himself saying. A small, strange feeling of her being just her mother.

None of the doctors dared to answer. ”Good to see you, Konstantin.” The voice came from the door.

It was warm and slow and a little hoarse, like an old song. The Don did not move at first. His hand, which had been halfway to the wall of charts, stopped in the air.

Nobody had knocked. Nobody had been announced. The guards at the door had let this man through.

The doctors turned.

A man stood at the entrance of the lab. He was tall and straight-backed, and his hair was thick and silver. He wore a dark coat, and he held a cane in one hand, though he did not seem to lean on it. His face was lined and calm, and he was smiling a small, easy smile.

He looked about sixty. He looked about the same age as the Don.

The Don lowered his hand slowly. He turned to face the man. His face did not change, but something behind his eyes went still and careful.

”Kalisto,” he said.

”Konstantin.”

”What are you doing here?”

”Why wouldn’t I come?” Kalisto walked into the lab as if it belonged to him. His cane tapped the floor once, twice, in a slow, easy rhythm.

Now that he was inside, the doctors could see what the doorway had hidden. His suit was purple. It was not bright or loud, but a deep, dark purple, the color of old wine and bruises. His tie was purple, and so was the small silk square in his pocket.

Everyone in that world knew the pattern. The Don had his white. Kalisto had his purple. The two colors had stood side by side at tables and funerals for over thirty years.

”We are old friends, Konstantin,” Kalisto said. He stopped near the steel table and rested both hands on the top of his cane. ”And the project was put on hold twenty years ago. Twenty years. Of course I heard the news.”

He smiled, and the lines around his eyes deepened.

”The little princess has been found. So tell me. Are we reviving the project?”

The doctors went very still. One of them put his tablet face down on the table, quickly, as if it had burned him.

The project.

None of them said the word. They had heard it before, in whispers, in corners. They knew it had a weight. They knew it was not a thing you spoke of out loud.

The Don did not answer right away. He turned the question over slowly, and his face gave away nothing.

”No,” he said at last. ”Not yet.”

”My daughter needs time,” the Don said. ”She has been away for twenty years. She is not ready.”

He turned his back on Kalisto and walked toward the wall of charts, hands behind him. He was not hiding anything. He was only choosing where to stand.

”And it seems I need to check my security again,” he added. ”I only just confirmed the result. The paper is not even dry.” He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes were cold. ”And yet the news is already out.”

The air in the lab grew tighter. Kalisto’s smile did not move. ”News travels, my friend.”

”Not that fast.”

Not unless someone helps it, the Don thought. Someone had opened the door for him. And now someone had opened another, and Kalisto had walked through it.

He kept his face calm. But he filed the thought away, carefully, in the place where he kept things that needed to be dealt with.

”Don’t be like that,” Kalisto said. His voice dropped, soft and friendly. He walked forward, and the cane tapped again.

”It is me, Konstantin. Your good friend. I heard about the dinner tonight, too.” He paused. ”I will be there. And I will bring our other friends with me.”

The Don’s head turned slowly. ”Our other friends.”

”Of course. They also remember. We all put in a lot of money twenty years ago. A great deal of money.” Kalisto spread his hand, almost lazily. ”And we have waited. Very patiently.”

He stepped close enough that the doctors could see the sharp, bright look in his old eyes.

”It is time to reap, Konstantin. I have waited twenty good years. I do not think I can wait any longer.” He tilted his head. ”So let’s get this started.”