“None,” Salo agreed.

“You know,” Marco said, stirring sugar into his cup, “I looked you up. Salo Armani. No relation.”

“You will be,” Salo said. “Just not in the way she imagines. The trawler leaves at three. Your new name is Pietro. You’ll work the nets for six months. After that, you can grow a beard and argue about soccer in a bar in Patagonia.”