The Brahms Deception Page 38

  Ugo gave a sigh. He put his hands in his pockets and adopted a negligent slouch. “You have the advantage of me, signore,” he said. “Who are you? What is it you want?”

  “What we want, Ugo, is information. And my name I think you will recognize.”

  Ugo slouched further, letting his chin drop into his collar. “Will I?” he said, in a very American accent. “Am I supposed to guess?”

  “Oh, no,” the voice said. The man stepped down so that a dim shaft of light, slicing through the half-open stairwell door, fell on his face. He didn’t look familiar at all. Ugo eyed him narrowly as he came forward and put out his hand. “I’m Domenico,” he said. “I’m going to be your host for a bit.”

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