The Devil's Triangle

by Catherine Coulter

  Nicholas laughed. “No, you won’t be detaining us, Major Russo, and we will not hand over our weapons. There is an active threat against us, and we will not go unarmed. Especially when we can’t count on your people to provide assistance.”

  “You will do as I say, Agent Drummond, I am in charge here, not you. Who are you calling?”

  “My boss, the president of the United States.”

  Russo turned to stone. “How can a lowly policeman like you know the president?”

  “I saved his life. Didn’t you read about it?”

  Nicholas knew Russo would like to shoot him here and now but he couldn’t be sure if Nicholas was bluffing. Nicholas saw rage in his eyes, at being challenged, at being thwarted. Russo backed down, cleared his throat. “There is no need to do that.”

  Nicholas studied his face. Good, he was afraid of what his superiors would say if he caused an international incident. Nicholas punched off his cell. “I am happy to meet with you again once I have determined there is no more threat against us. We will do ballistics tests then. This is Agent Louisa Barry, one of the finest forensics technicians in the FBI. As a courtesy from our government to yours, if you ask her very nicely to help your people work the crime scene, she can assist you.”

  “My pleasure,” Louisa said.

  Nicholas said, “You know how to reach us.” He and Louisa started again for the door.

  “Agent Drummond, clearly you do not understand. We have our orders.”

  Nicholas looked coldly over his shoulder. “Orders from whom, I’d like to know.”

  Russo’s anger was once again very clear, then he tried to mask it, nodded. “You may leave—for the moment. Let me add that you and your team did a piss-poor job of being covert today.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “Feel free to take that up with the president. I’m sure he will appreciate hearing how you were too busy attending to a ‘civil matter’ to back up his lead investigative team their first time on Italian soil. You want a diplomatic nightmare, feel free to get on the phone. As for me, I’m going to check on my wounded agent. Good day, gentlemen.”

  Mike was in the hallway with Adam, grinning. “Well done. So we’re not to be arrested?”

  “Russo would love to clap us in irons, well, he’d rather shoot me dead, but he has a healthy fear of what his superiors would do to him if our president got involved. Adam, I’m glad they didn’t try for you at the hotel.”

  Adam looked pale. He only nodded.

  Mike gave him a hug. “Lia will be all right, you’ll see. What’s amazing to me, Nicholas, is that you didn’t punch that arrogant jerk. The president really would get involved, and personally.”

  “So what’s next?” Louisa asked. “We sit here and wait to hear about Lia, obviously, but then what?”

  “We must find Kitsune,” Mike said. “She’s still here, somewhere in Venice.”

  “Given what you’ve told me about her,” Adam said, “she’ll contact us.”

  Nicholas checked his watch. “You’re right, she will. So let’s go check on Lia.”

  Mike said, “Zachery called to tell me Lia’s dad is on his way to Venice.”

  “Good,” Louisa said. “Once we see how Lia’s doing, let’s get some coffee before jet lag knocks us on our butts.”

  They were met by a nurse, smiling. She gave them a thumbs-up, spoke in rapid Italian.

  Nicholas thanked her, said, “Lia is going to make it.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lia was very pale. She had a large pressure dressing across her chest and shoulder, her left arm in a sling. Her short blond hair was spiked up, and a dark bruise was creeping up her neck. She brightened when she saw Nicholas and Mike walk through her door, Adam and Louisa behind them.

  Nicholas smiled, seeing her earrings still marched up her ears.

  “Hey,” she whispered, throat scratchy from the anesthesia.

  “Hey, yourself,” Mike said, sitting in the chair next to the bed. She took Lia’s right hand in hers. “What were you thinking, jumping in front of a bullet?”

  “Maybe that I wanted to spend the next six weeks in a sling, having all of you wait on me? Broke my collarbone, and they said the bullet nicked the lung. Hit me right on top of my vest, went down instead of through. Funny angle. Doc said a shot like that couldn’t happen again in a million years.”

  Nicholas leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Mike and I would probably be dead if you hadn’t spotted the shooters for us. Good job.”

  Mike said, “You’re going to have to stay here for a couple more days, but I have a surprise for you. Your dad’s coming. He’ll be with you early tomorrow morning.”

  Lia whispered, “You really did that for me?”

  “Zachery did,” Nicholas said. He leaned down, took her hand, studied her face. “Louisa tells me you and your father are great chess competitors. Cutthroat games should keep you occupied.” Nicholas lightly touched a finger to one of the sterling silver studs on her left ear. “What does your daddy think of these fashion statements?”

  Louisa said from behind Mike, “Her dad, who, let me add, is a Lutheran minister, says he wouldn’t have minded if she’d rebelled when she was a teenager, gotten it over with, piercings included—but not his Lia, she had to wait to adulthood.”

  Lia whispered, “I figured I’d have more money, buy better accessories.”

  A nurse came in. “Mi scusi, you need to leave now. She needs rest.”

  Nicholas paused a moment. “Adam, you and Louisa go back to the hotel. Mike and I need to speak to Zachery again about the local Carabinieri and this Major Russo. No reason for you to stay and hear the fireworks.”

  Louisa leaned down, kissed Lia on the cheek. “You sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Adam said, “I’ll find you some good websites for accessories.”

  Lia’s voice was fading out. “Maybe I can put it on my expense account.”

  Louisa and Adam left, Louisa saying, “I’m so tired I could fall asleep right here.”

  Nicholas knew he had to give Zachery a heads-up about Russo, and called him on his private cell. He got Zachery’s voice mail: “Piper is a princess in her school play this year, and not a tree. She makes progress in her acting career.”

  He grinned. “A bit of whimsy from Zachery. Who would have thought?”

  She punched his shoulder. “I met his wife. She told me he is a real jokester, drives her and the kids crazy with his stunts.”

  They stepped out of the hospital into a dark Venice night, the air soft against their faces. It was quiet, stores closed down, restaurants finally empty, tourists tucked into their beds.

  “It feels good to be outside. I want to clear my head.” She stopped a moment, looked around the deserted square. “It’s so quiet, Nicholas.”

  She could see multiple alleys extending like arms from the piazza, and the water flowed heavily beside them in the canal and back into the lagoon.

  From the corner of her eyes, she saw a shadow. It didn’t move. Her hand went to her Glock.

  He was close in an instant, whispering, “What is it? What did you see?”

  “Not sure, a shadow, but the thing is, it’s not moving. I think someone’s standing there, watching us. I don’t like it, Nicholas.”

  And the sky lit up in front of them.

  They were in the open. He grabbed her hand and they ran toward the passageway next to the canal and ducked under an overhang. Bullets whizzed by them. “I can’t tell the angle,” Mike said, but she returned fire, then ducked back under the overhang. “I only have one extra magazine, how about you?”

  “Same here,” Nicholas said. “Shoot in short bursts, pray for accuracy.”

  They were on their own, no comms, no backup, facing an unknown number of thugs shooting at them. She took two fast shots, didn’t hear any yells, only more gunfire. “You’d think someone in the hospital would be yelling their heads off. Where are the polizia? Nicholas, I gotta say it, I’d sort of hoped we�
��d mowed down all the bad guys in the piazza today.”

  “Have you ever heard of a shortage of criminals and guns?”

  More shots, bullets striking the wall and the overhang, too close. They went down on their haunches, backs pressed against the wall. “I hate this bloody town, everyone wants to kill us.”

  Nicholas pointed. “There’s one.”

  She sighted and pulled the trigger once. The man who’d been crouched atop a building twenty feet from them fell silently, splashing into the canal.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Good shot. How many more? I wonder.”

  The piazza was deadly silent, as if Venice were holding her breath. So were Mike and Nicholas. Nicholas let his breath out slowly, centering, eyes roaming. “There can’t be only one shooter. I mean, confidence is one thing, but there are two of us and we are FBI.”

  She had to laugh; he sounded so insulted. “I know, and we’re the toughest dudes in the universe. There are more, don’t worry.”

  “Cover me, I’ve got to be able to see more of the area.” Nicholas inched forward, crouched low, toward a small bridge arching over the canal. He saw another shooter, this one sneaking up behind Mike, taking sight. He raised his gun, smoothly pulled the trigger. The shot echoed, and the man disappeared, not shot; he’d melted back into the shadows. Well, bloody hell.

  Where were the polizia?

  Movement, he saw it, off to the north side of the piazza. He saw two men running past, taking up new positions, flanking him and Mike. So four shooters at least.

  He needed to move some twenty feet to his left for a better position. He was about to make the dash when five shots came from his right, smooth, fast, from two guns. Small caliber, sounded like a Walther PPK, a British gun. But why would Italian thugs have British weapons?

  He saw one of the shooters rise up to fire, and the British gun fired, and he went down.

  He looked across at Mike. Her Glock was up, she was sweeping the area, like he was.

  “Go,” a female voice shouted. He knew it was Kitsune. She slipped out of the darkness and was rapidly firing across the piazza. He took off back to Mike, grabbed her hand, and the two of them ran along the edge of the canal. Bullets sounded behind them, some striking the walkway, some splashing into the canal. They heard a man scream. A body fell in front of them and they leaped over it, not missing a stride, and went around a corner.

  Adrenaline was flowing hot and heavy and Mike was blazing with fight. “Nicholas, who shot that man? Who was shooting back in the piazza?”

  “Kitsune.”

  “You’re kidding. What is she? Our guardian angel?”

  “You’d think. This is the second time today she’s saved my hide.”

  “What are we going to do? We can’t leave her to face the rest of the shooters and I’m nearly out of bullets.”

  “I’ve only a few shots left myself.”

  Another six shots from the British gun, then it was utterly silent, only the sound of the water lapping against the walkway. They heard footsteps, light as a feather, coming closer. It had to be Kitsune.

  A quiet voice said, “Take the water taxi. I left it for you. I’ll come to you at the hotel. And Nicholas? Mike? Try not to get yourselves killed on the way.”

  And she was gone.

  They heard the wail of a siren. At last, the polizia.

  He was glad the cops had finally showed up, but he didn’t want to talk to them. It would be too much. He grabbed Mike’s hand and they ran for the water taxi bobbing in the canal. They were on board; the driver, without a word, took off into the night, spray churning up like wings.

  Nicholas glanced back once to see Kitsune standing on the pylon where the boat had been tied, covering their escape.

  He said again, “That’s twice in one day.”

  The boat made a sharp fast turn and spray hit her in the face. Mike swiped the water out of her eyes, laughed. “What is one to do with a criminal who rescues you?”

  “Let’s start with finding out what she’s gotten herself into.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Louisa met them in the lobby, candy from a vending machine in her hand. She did a double take. “What on earth happened to you?”

  “More bad guys tried to kill us,” Mike said. “It was exciting there for a while, then Kitsune showed up, saved us yet again. No polizia, no Carabinieri, and that really pisses me off.”

  “After the no-show in the piazza,” Louisa said, “I’ve got to think Kitsune’s clients paid them to stay away.”

  Nicholas thought of Major Russo. “It’s reasonable to assume there are certainly a couple of high-ups who are doubtless on the clients’ payroll.”

  Mike said, “Given someone’s tried to kill us twice today, and not a soul from the Italians’ side was around to help, I think we need to accept that we’re on our own.”

  Louisa punched the elevator button. “Thank goodness Kitsune was there. She’s turning into Wonder Woman.”

  Mike said, “I figure she has to save us, since she got us into this mess, whatever this mess turns out to be. Hey, Nicholas, you okay?”

  He’d gone white. He was looking at a new tear in Mike’s jacket on her other shoulder. He felt a wave of panic, gently pushed her jacket and shirt down and examined her upper arm. “Not bad,” he said, and let out a breath. “I’ll fix you up when we get to the suite.”

  Mike looked down at her ripped jacket. “I didn’t feel a thing.” She looked up at him. “It hurts now. Isn’t that something?”

  Louisa said, “It doesn’t look bad, Mike, thank goodness.”

  Nicholas pulled Mike’s shirt back up, closed her jacket. “You are not sleeping in that room our lovely receptionist assigned you on the third floor. My suite has two bedrooms. The living room is good-sized, so we can use it for business. Don’t even think of arguing, Agent Caine, I can’t protect you if you’re half a hotel away. Louisa, would you please bring your first-aid kit? I need to clean up Agent Caine’s wound.”

  Ten minutes later, the four of them were congregated in Nicholas’s suite, room service ordered, everyone settled in. Mike filled in Adam and Louisa on the shoot-out near the hospital while Nicholas cleaned up her arm. She wasn’t going to make a sound. She talked fast, through gritted teeth.

  “There, all done,” he said what seemed like two years later, but she knew was only a couple of minutes. “The steri strips are fine. You’ll be good to go in a couple of days. Here, take the aspirin. I’ll have the nurse give you a lollipop on your way out.”

  “Har-har.”

  Adam handed her a glass of Coke Light and she got the aspirin down. “While we were waiting to hear about Lia’s surgery, I called Gray to ask him about the coverage drop in New York. He said he was still working on it, but it appeared the satellite they were using got off course and lost its signal. It’s totally down. It might have been tampered with, it might have been hit by space debris, don’t know yet.”

  The pain in Mike’s arm was down to a dull throbbing, thank heavens. “But that doesn’t explain the inability to call us. Cellular shouldn’t have been affected.”

  “That’s right,” Adam said. “Gray told me they went dark on all the screens for almost forty minutes. He said he’d get back to me when he had more information.

  “Now, I’ve been searching for the drop in the system, myself, Nicholas, but so far, nothing. It’s gone. The data from that time has been erased. If our comms had gone down I’d be inclined to say it was a small EMP—an electromagnetic pulse—and that still might be the case, if there’s someone out there who’s developed a directional EMP. But at this rate, we might never know what happened. There aren’t any bugs in the system, none that I can see, at least. It’s like someone unplugged the coffeepot for a while, then remembered it hadn’t brewed totally and plugged it back in.”

  “Keep on it, Adam, and your contacting Gray was a good idea. Keep in touch with him. If it was done on purpose, to cut communication to us, I’m betting there’ll b
e a trace. I have a hard time believing it was an accident, though.”

  “Sounds coordinated to me,” Louisa said. “Adam, tell Mike and Nicholas about keeping track of Kitsune.”

  Adam said, “Since she’s keeping an eye on us, we’ll see her again.”

  “Sorry,” Mike said, “I forgot to tell you. Kitsune said she’d be coming here later.”

  “Good. When she gets here I can tag her with a GPS tracker. Lia brought a couple of our new ingestables. It’s in her best interest for us to know where she is. Then we give her some tasty pasta, and pow!—she’s covered for seventy-two hours, give or take, and we always know where she is.”

  “I think she will come,” Mike said. “But then I think about all the cock-ups today. She might be reconsidering our value to her as we speak.”

  There was a knock at the door. A female voice called out in strongly accented English, “Room service.”

  All eyes went to the door.

  The knock sounded again, the voice more urgent, this time in Italian, “Apri la porta, per favore.”

  “Not again. Wait, Nicholas, something isn’t right here.” Mike pulled out her Glock. Nicholas took one side of the door, Mike the other. Louisa had her weapon out as well, standing in front of Adam.

  Nicholas opened the door, his Glock pointed at the server.

  It was Kitsune, dressed in the hotel’s service outfit. She smiled, said, “Grazie,” and walked into the room.

  “So where’s our dinner?” Nicholas said, slipping his Glock back into its holster.

  “When I checked, I was told there was a twenty-minute wait. I hope you don’t mind, but I added an order of my own to yours.”

  Mike said, “Well, no more long blond hair. But you still aren’t you.”

  “No. To visit the hotel, I decided to go Italian native, no more tourist.” Kitsune patted her dark wig. “I am very sorry about your agent. Will she be all right?”