The Devil's Triangle

by Catherine Coulter

  She dropped her bag, washed her face, and put her hair back in a ponytail. She sat on the bed. Hard as a rock. So much for a nap. Mike cleaned off her glasses, grabbed her briefcase, and took the stairs down to Nicholas’s room.

  He opened the door with a grin. She stepped in, and nearly fainted. It was a huge suite, with two balconies opening onto the lagoon, gorgeous gray marble walls with white trim, sheer white curtains moving lazily in the breeze. The two bedrooms with their own en suite bath were almost bigger than her apartment in New York.

  She went to the balcony, stepped out to admire the view. “You know we’re on government per diem, right? We’re not going to be able to put this room on the expense reports.”

  He mumbled something, and she turned, her elbows resting on the balcony railing. “What was that?”

  “Free upgrade.”

  “Ah, Ms. Blonde at the front desk. Did she slip you her phone number with your key card?”

  She had, but Nicholas only shook his head. He joined her on the balcony, pointed to the right. “Look, Mike, the Piazza San Marco, Saint Mark’s Square, is right down there. There will be tourists and pigeons thick on the ground. Not good.”

  “I agree, but what else can we do?”

  He didn’t say anything, merely studied the entrance to the square.

  Mike said, “My room may be a dump, but at least it’s secure. You’re too exposed here, out front, for the world to see.”

  He moved closer, pulled her in. She smelled like saltwater and lilacs.

  Mike rested her head on his shoulder. “This whole thing, Nicholas—we have no idea what we’re stepping into. So many people . . . I know, to be expected, since this is tourist season, but any of them could have a gun or a knife. We don’t know the face of Kitsune’s enemies. I’m relieved you asked Lia to call the Carabinieri. If there’s trouble, they’ll already know it’s coming.”

  “I called the Carabinieri, too. They’re not happy to have the FBI running around their city, but they’ll back us up, if needed.”

  Mike pointed. “Look at him.”

  Nicholas edged to the glass and saw a man standing by the Hotel Danieli gondola stop, staring directly at their window. When Nicholas made eye contact, the man shoved a toothpick in his mouth and strolled away.

  “Yes, they’re watching,” Nicholas said.

  “Kitsune’s people?”

  “No. I think we’re Kitsune’s people.”

  “That’s irony for you.”

  “It is indeed.” He gave her a blazing smile. “Time, Agent Caine, to have ourselves an adventure.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Venice was even more crowded than the last time Nicholas had visited, only a year ago. He stood at the door of the hotel, staring out at the crowds. It was an operational nightmare. He understood why Kitsune had picked Piazza San Marco to meet, the crowds were also protection from enemies neither of them knew, but any of them could be used as a hostage, or taken out as a target.

  He checked his watch, turned to the team behind him. “Adam will stay here, but the rest of us should get going. We’re supposed to meet Kitsune in forty-five minutes, enough time to do a full sweep of the piazza and get each of us into position.”

  Mike said, “We’re going to stand out, since we’re not in tank tops and shorts. Even with our jeans and shirts, we have to wear jackets to hide our weapons, and believe me, in the middle of the day, in this heat, that’s odd. There’s nothing we can do about it, so try to look like this is normal to you. Everyone ready?”

  Lia said, “Here are your comms.”

  They inserted tiny earwigs and tested tiny mics hooked under their shirt collars.

  Mike said, “Testing, one two.”

  Lia nodded, tested Nicholas’s and Louisa’s. “Good, all of you are clear as a bell. I’ll be monitoring your frequency.”

  Nicholas said, “I spoke to Major Salvadore Russo at the Carabinieri. He said his men would be here, so our backup’s in place. I sent him our photos, so they’re watching for us. I hope he was smart enough to keep his men in uniform. That would discourage anyone after Kitsune.”

  Lia said, “I’ll be up on the balcony of the Doge’s Palace and have a great view of the piazza and all of you.”

  “I’ll hang back a bit,” Louisa said, “follow you into the piazza, cover you.”

  Nicholas said, “Louisa, once I’ve spotted the soldiers and they’ve spotted me and Mike, and we’re as certain as we can be that the scene is clear, we’ll do the meet with Kitsune. Everyone has their vests on, right?”

  Everyone nodded. Lia said, “Don’t fret, no one is taking any chances.” She looked at her watch. “You need to go, find Kitsune.” She gave them a salute and stepped out the door, quickly blending into the crowds of tourists.

  A minute later the three of them left the hotel, too, turned right, and walked over the bridge. The Hotel Danieli was on their right. Up and over one more bridge, dodging immigrants selling selfie sticks and people abruptly stopping to take pictures of the Bridge of Sighs, and then they were at the entrance of the Doge’s Palace. A few more steps and they were at the eastern edge of the Piazza San Marco.

  The piazza was huge, magnificent; the buildings a testament to Venetian wealth from her heyday. The Doge’s Palace on their right was like something out of a fairy tale. There was color and noise and too many people.

  “Even though we don’t look like tourists,” Nicholas said against Mike’s ear, “no one’s paying any attention to us.”

  She snapped to attention. “He is.”

  Nicholas looked to his right. The man he’d seen from his hotel room balcony was standing at the corner of the palace, in the shade, still chewing on a toothpick.

  “And to your left,” Mike said.

  Nicholas looked left, saw another man sitting at a small round table, alone, wearing dark-tinted sunglasses. Even with his eyes hidden, it was clear he was staring at them. They kept walking.

  “Any more?”

  “There are men at every corner,” she said. “Are they Kitsune’s people, or the guys after her?”

  Nicholas stopped abruptly, knelt down, and retied the laces on his right boot. He took in the men following them, the two ahead of them. They were all armed.

  He stood back up. “I don’t know. Go carefully, Mike.”

  “We should have met her in the hotel.”

  “You know she had to have a crowd to hide in. In her shoes, I’d have picked the piazza as well.”

  They kept walking, past the stalls selling tourist T-shirts and oven mitts and harlequin masks.

  The bells of Saint Mark’s Basilica began to ring. In her ear, Mike heard Lia say, “Ugh, that’s so loud. I’ll never be able to hear you over it. Stay away from the bells.”

  “Roger that,” Mike said.

  They turned left into the main piazza, crowded with more people than she could count, and children and pigeons. Scores of people sat at the outdoor café tables, six cafés by Nicholas’s count, drinking espresso and prosecco and nibbling potato chips. The lines from the basilica tours extended out into the piazza. So many people, Mike thought. We can’t control the scene.

  “Over there, Nicholas, the blonde with long hair, and big straw hat sitting. It’s Kitsune and she just signaled me.”

  The woman at the table didn’t look anything like the Kitsune he remembered. She looked like the rest of the hordes in the piazza, all casual and relaxed, sipping a glass of wine. Then she straightened and started shaking her head.

  “Crap.” Nicholas spoke rapidly into his mic. “We’re compromised. Abort. No way to control this scene. Abort, I repeat, Louisa, Lia, abort.”

  Kitsune looked straight at Nicholas, and he saw the fear an instant before the piazza erupted in gunfire.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nicholas dove to the right, knocking Mike off her feet.

  Screams filled the air as bullets started to fly through the piazza.

  Lia was shouting in their ear
s. “I see some of the shooters. Louisa, move to your left, two columns, the man in jeans and black T-shirt.”

  Nicholas yelled into his mic. “Lia, we’re blind. Where are the shots coming from?”

  “I can’t tell, too many people are running. I’ve lost them. Louisa got one of the shooters.”

  Mike shouted, “Kitsune’s gone!”

  “I see her,” Louisa yelled, “about one hundred feet to my right, leaving the piazza. I’m right on her tail, and she hasn’t seen me yet.”

  Lia continued in her calm voice, “Two more shooters on the balconies, one right above you guys and the other directly across the square. Both have dark hair, thirties, jeans and black T-shirts, no body armor.”

  A shot hit the plaster column that protected Mike and Nicholas, showering sharp chips down on their arms, thankfully covered.

  More shots, more screams. Tourists ran in all directions, fleeing into the shops and cafés that lined the square. Mike heard the European sirens, but she didn’t see any Carabinieri or police. Major Russo had assured Nicholas that they’d be here to back them up. Where were they?

  Nicholas’s voice sounded in Mike’s ear. “Mike, we need to get free from the columns, get those two shooters. You break left on my mark, I’ll cover you. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Get across the western edge of the piazza to the alley, it’s forty feet from your spot. Three, two, one, go left.”

  Mike exploded out of the small space, gun pointed, Nicholas laying down cover fire. A shot grazed her shoulder and she returned fire. She missed, but reached the alley. She had a much better view of the piazza from this vantage point.

  Lia said, “Mike, balcony, shooter at your ten o’clock.”

  Mike turned and fired, all in one motion. A man fell from the balcony, landed ten feet from where she stood.

  “Lia, Nicholas is still stuck behind a column, down by the white grand piano. Can you free him up?”

  “I can. Nicholas, a shooter’s directly above you, and I see another one across the piazza. I’ll hit the one above you if you get the guy across the way. This one’s blond, dark sunglasses.”

  Nicholas shouted, “Where the bloody hell are the Carabinieri?”

  “I don’t see a single one,” Lia said. “They’re coming, though, hear the sirens?”

  “That’s the polizia, not the Carabinieri. Okay. Lia, take him out.”

  Nicholas heard Lia’s shot, saw a man sprawl onto the ground. Nicholas rolled from behind the column, shooting up at the balcony as he went. A man screamed, his gun flying, and fell at his feet.

  “Five down—there are probably more. Nicholas, we need another aerial view, I need someone else up here to spot them. Can you get on the balcony?”

  “Yes.” Nicholas yelled at Mike, “Cover me, I’m going up.”

  He burst out into the piazza, running hard. He stepped on a table and used it to catapult himself up to the balcony where the shooters had originally been grouped. His hands hit stone, scraping his palms, but he held on, managed to pull himself to the small parapet. He swiveled to look back at the piazza. Now he could see everything that was happening. He saw a sixth shooter, long black hair, stationed right above Mike, saw the edge of his weapon. He aimed and squeezed the trigger. The man yelled curses as he grabbed his wrist and watched his gun clatter to the ground.

  Nicholas caught a glimpse of a furious face, then the man was off and running. Nicholas had no idea where he was going, but he took off after him, running on the narrow balcony, south along the piazza. At least the balcony ran the length of the piazza. He caught sight of Mr. Long Hair and he had another weapon in his hand. He was running parallel to Nicholas, down the balcony on the other side of the square, shooting at Nicholas when he could.

  Nicholas shouted as he ran, “Mike, the balcony opposite me. Do you see him? Black hair, long? Do you have a shot?”

  “I don’t, but if I come out into the piazza, I will.”

  “Lia, cover her. Louisa, where are you?”

  A breathless voice said, “I’m still tracking Kitsune. I’ve lost sight of her. Maybe she got into a boat. Do you want me to keep looking for her?”

  “Yes. We’ll deal with this.”

  Nicholas heard shots, looked over the edge of the narrow balcony to see Mike, her arms pointed at the balcony opposite, where Mr. Long Hair was crumpled half on, half off the edge. He looked quite dead.

  Nicholas stopped. He counted six shooters. How many more?

  A moan came over their comms.

  “Who’s hit, who’s hit?”

  Mike screamed, “Lia!”

  Nicholas saw her, slumped against a pillar, her hand pressing again her shoulder. Even from fifty feet away he could see Lia was deathly pale.

  “Man, this hurts, Mike, a bullet got me right above my Kevlar. I’m—” Lia slid to her right, facedown, and stopped moving.

  Nicholas shouted, “I’m coming—”

  A fist slammed into his jaw. He heard Mike yell as he staggered back. The same fist got him in the belly, and his momentum took him backward over the edge of the balcony. He clutched the rough stone, heard Mike shouting again. Whoever had hit him was running away. Another shooter.

  The local polizia rushed into the square, and behind them, Carabinieri soldiers.

  He had to get to Lia. Nicholas started to pull himself up, but the rough edge had scored his hand, the blood making his fingers slip. He dangled a moment before swinging back to grab the ledge. The fall was about thirty feet, certainly far enough to hurt.

  He heard a gunshot and jerked his head around to see another shooter fall to the ground below, right off the balcony beside him. This one had been only ten feet away, sneaking up on him.

  Someone had just saved his life, and it couldn’t have been either Louisa or Mike.

  He felt a hand on his back. “Take my arm,” a voice said. He recognized the soft Scottish burr.

  He looked up into Kitsune’s light blue eyes, like chips of ocean glass.

  “Kitsune. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Take my arm, or you will fall, Nicholas.”

  He let go of the rough stone and grabbed her forearm. The extra leverage had him up and over the balcony in a second. He landed in an ungraceful heap. By the time he got to his feet, he was alone.

  Like smoke in a breeze, Kitsune was gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Get to Lia,” Nicholas shouted in his comms to Mike. He clattered down the stairs into the piazza, ignoring the people gathering around him, and ran with her to the Doge’s Palace.

  “I lost her, I lost Kitsune,” Louisa shouted over the comms.

  “Yes, I know. Go back to the hotel, Louisa, right now,” he replied. “Make sure Adam is safe, tell him to hack into the Carabinieri, find a Major Salvadore Russo. To stand us up like this, let us get shot at—they sacrificed us. I want to know why and how deep this goes. Tell him to check who Russo’s been talking to. I have a bad feeling about this. Go.”

  Piazza San Marco was chaos, a babble of noise, cries, shouts. People were coming back outside, camera phones and iPads filming everything.

  A second later, Nicholas was shoved up against a stone pillar, soldiers surrounding him, guns aimed at his chest, shouting at him in Italian. Nicholas put his hands up.

  “American FBI,” Nicholas yelled back in Italian. “My credentials are in my left breast pocket, and one of my teammates is shot. Where the bloody hell were you when we needed you? You were supposed to be here.”

  Rapid-fire Italian, and a young lieutenant stepped forward, roughly grabbed the creds from Nicholas’s jacket.

  He flipped open the leather case, studied it closely, then handed it back.

  “I am Lieutenant Marco Caldoni. We were told the meet wasn’t for another hour. But then we heard the gunfire and came immediately.”

  “And I was told by Major Salvadore Russo that he and his men would already be here. Can I put my hands down now?”

  At Caldoni
’s nod, Nicholas said, “So where is your bloody major?”

  “I don’t know, sir. You and your people have killed many men, and I hope none of them were tourists, or there will be hell to pay. Tell me what happened.”

  “We were doing recon of the piazza when we were shot at. We took measures to keep ourselves safe.” He looked up at Mike waving frantically from the balcony. “I have a wounded agent.”

  “I see EMS is climbing up the stairs as we speak. Someone called 118 when the shooting began. Is any other agent hurt?”

  “Not on my team. I lost count of the number of shooters, but at least seven, maybe eight. Did we kill them all? I certainly hope so.”

  Nicholas heard a quiet voice in his ear. “It’s Louisa, Adam is fine. Is Lia okay?”

  Nicholas said, “She’s being attended to.” And to the lieutenant, “Where will she be taken?”

  “Ospedale San Giovanni e Paolo. It is five minutes away.”

  Nicholas repeated the info to Louisa. “Mike and I will meet you there. Louisa, tell Adam to stay put and keep pulling information. You’ll need to come back and assist the Carabinieri to figure out what just happened.”

  Caldoni said, “Who are you talking to?”

  “A brilliant forensics specialist, FBI. Her name is Special Agent Louisa Berry. She will help you. Take me to the hospital, right now.”

  Caldoni drew himself up, all stiff and commanding. “I regret to tell you, signore, that we will need statements from everyone on your team who was involved, and we will have to re-create the scene—”

  “Let me rephrase, Caldoni. I am going to the hospital with my colleagues. Your boss can speak to me there.” Then he turned and walked toward the palace, leaving Caldoni cursing behind him.

  He said into his comms, “Mike, is she all right?”

  “It looks bad, Nicholas. As she said, the bullet hit her high on her chest, just missed the body armor. They are taking her away now. She’s unconscious.”

  “Come down. We’re going to the hospital.”