‘I bet the view’s even nicer from your ivory tower.’

‘It is,’ he said, solemnly. ‘I’d invite you up some time but it’s only for really intelligent people who have a great sense of humour.’

‘Then you must be squatting.’ I turned back to the plaque, renewed curiosity flickering in my mind. ‘Did your grandfather get to see you?’ I asked. ‘Before he died that day?’

‘Yes. Valentino and I were born early in the morning.’ Luca’s voice changed, losing the tinge of arrogance that made it haughty. His family was not a laughing matter. ‘My grandfather held me in his arms for an hour. He wasn’t so interested in Valentino. I don’t know if it was because of his defect or because I was the less screechy of the two of us, but my grandfather convinced my parents that he and I were kindred spirits. He said he felt it. I’m not so sure. How kindred can you feel with a scrunched-up baby who can’t even see properly? Anyway, after he gave me back to my mother, he walked right out of the hospital and dropped dead on the street.’

‘Oh,’ I gasped, feeling my face crumple. That took a dark turn. ‘Was it a heart attack?’

Luca’s smile was rueful. ‘Sophie Gracewell. Naïve as ever. They hit him twice; once in the head, once in the heart. Twin bullets, to represent Valentino and me.’

I clutched at my stomach. Despite my best efforts to remain composed, I was starting to feel a little sick. I focused on the letters in front of me, following their elaborate curves. ‘Who shot him?’

I could feel Luca watching me. ‘The Marinos.’ In his mouth, the name Marino sounded like a curse word. Nic had spoken about them in that same tone when he had asked me about Jack in the garden. ‘We call them the Black Hand. You could say we have a … colourful history with them.’ He stopped, his head dipping like he was staring at something on the ground, and quietly, emotionlessly, he added, ‘It had been a long time coming.’

‘What exactly does colourful mean?’

Luca shrugged, still staring at that same spot. ‘That we’re always killing each other.’

‘Ah,’ I said, feeling horrified and doing my best to hide it. ‘Of course …’

‘We were in a truce at the time … or at least we were supposed to be, but they were still harbouring resentment for something that happened several years before that. And with the twin thing, I suppose the symbolism was too great to pass up.’

‘The twin thing?’

‘Yes,’ said Luca, looking up again, but not at me. His gaze roved around the room, tripping over his ancestors’ tombs. ‘In the eighties, during the second blood war between our families, my grandfather ordered the killing of Don Vincenzo Marino and his family. It was a drastic move, but he thought that would cripple the Marino dynasty and end the bloodshed once and for all. The Falcones got Vincenzo and his wife, but their sons weren’t there. They were twins. No one knows where they went – seems like they just disappeared into thin air. After that, Vincenzo’s younger brother, Cesare, took over, but he was an incompetent boss. The family didn’t respect him the way they respected Vincenzo. Just like my grandfather had planned, the Marinos were weakened without strong leadership, and Cesare agreed to a truce.’ He heaved a sigh. It was heavy and filled with regret, as though he had been there to witness it all.

‘But the bloodshed didn’t end, did it?’ I asked quietly.

‘The Marinos endured the terms, at first, but they obviously didn’t swallow them – maybe the twins’ survival gave them courage, or maybe it was my mother’s sister, Donata, who changed things. She married Cesare Marino when she was barely twenty years old. He was almost twice her age, but she didn’t care. Donata was hungry for money, for the power she couldn’t find in her own family.’ His expression soured as his mind turned to his aunt. ‘The Genoveses were on the way out, and I guess you could say the Marinos had an opening.’

‘And she took it,’ I supplied. I considered the idea of marrying some random forty-year-old mob boss for money and power, and it made my skin crawl. What twisted brand of ambition would make someone want to do that? I remembered Luca’s mother’s words to me in my hospital room: The Genovese women are survivors; we have the blood of Sicily in our veins, entire families who work beneath us.

Luca nodded. ‘Donata became more of a boss than her husband. Within a couple of years, she was running the whole operation. The day Valentino and I were born, Donata sent her Marino soldati after my parents, out of some sick, delayed retribution.’ At my look of confusion, he clarified, ‘Soldiers.’

‘Soldiers?’ I repeated in a voice much higher than normal. In my head I pictured an army of mafiosi marching towards a hospital, and bringing death with them. I swallowed hard. ‘But why?’

‘Donata wanted to orphan Valentino and me, the same way the Falcones orphaned the Marino twins. She wanted to kill her own sister.’

‘That’s ruthless,’ I said. ‘I mean, they’re sisters.’

Something unreadable flitted across Luca’s face. ‘They’re Genovese,’ he resolved, as though that would explain everything. It didn’t, but I stayed silent and after a moment, he picked up the thread of conversation again. ‘My grandfather got a tip-off that the Marinos were going to move against us, so he met them on the streets outside the hospital that day and they took him instead.’