by Brian Drake
“Merlot, please,” she said. “Bring on those vitamins.”
Pops served them at a glass table in the garden. Roses bloomed. Bright sky above. Nina sipped red wine while Dane sipped Maker’s Mark mixed with Coke. Dane leaned forward with elbows on the table, while Nina sat back with crossed legs. Her purse remained on her lap.
“How did you know who we were?” Dane said.
“You are not unknown in the world, Mr. Dane. Checking in at the hotel under your real name was not very smart, but I suppose you had no reason to do otherwise. I pay a man there to let me know who checks in every day. I also get copies of lobby photographs. I have that arrangement with every hotel in the city. When my men informed me of what happened in front of the hotel, I made the obvious connection.”
“I wish I could have done more,” Dane said.
“You had not the equipment or manpower to do anything, Mr. Dane. What you did required a personal sacrifice that nobody, in this day and age, seems willing to demonstrate. I admire your confidence, but it can also be your undoing. I spent a lot of years thinking I was untouchable. Look at what’s left of me.”
“What’s left of you still seems formidable to me, Mr. Russo.”
“You are being kind. But enough of that. I have called you here to finish the job, for which I will pay you a great deal of money. Please. I want my daughter home. I want the person who took her disposed of. I know you are not an assassin, but they say you are not unwilling to kill. And the official reputation of the two of you speaks volumes.
“Will you do me this favor? Money is no object. Leila must be found. She is all I”—he stopped, swallowed—“all I have left.”
“We wouldn’t know where to start,” Dane said.
“A place to start,” Russo said, “will be the easy part.”
“Leila,” Russo said, “has always lived apart from me, especially in my heyday. She does not know where I live. We visit often, but I always go to her. We established these precautions when she was young, because of my enemies, and increased them after the attack on my boat. Leila was in high school when that happened. Somehow, some way, she was summoned to Mestre by note, allegedly signed by me. The note says she was to meet me outside the hotel.”
Dane nodded.
“She checked into the hotel this morning before I could intercept her,” Russo said. “Here is the note.” He produced the piece of folded paper from a side pocket of the wheelchair. “Two others from my staff searched her room while you were in transit.”
Dane looked at the note and showed it to Nina. It was nothing special. A handwritten note with a curving signature. On its face, it meant nothing. Dane said so.
“The note may not shed any light on who is behind Leila’s abduction,” the man in the wheelchair said, “but this other letter does. It arrived before you did, so I assume they delivered it as soon as they had her in the car.”
Russo produced the new letter from his shirt pocket. Dane read it. Nina looked over his shoulder. The note demanded that Russo show up at a park later that night. Nobody had signed the bottom.
Dane said, “So this is where they will demand a ransom?”
“I suppose.”
“I guess a telephone call was too hard.”
Nina said to Russo, “They want you out in the open.”
“I cannot go out. Not in my condition. Please go in my place. You are authorized to accept any terms and make any promises you think need to be made.”
Dane held up the new note. “May I keep this?”
“Of course.”
“You have a bargain, Mr. Russo.”
“My friends call me Nico.”
Dane smiled. “You may call me Steve.”
“And you may call me,” Nina said, “Miss Talikova.”
A loud laugh bubbled up from Dominico Russo’s belly. “You remind me of my beloved Stephania, rest her soul.”
“There is one more thing, Nico,” Dane said. “As your new friend, I have to tell you this.”
Russo cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Show him, baby.”
Nina reached into her purse and took out her compact 9-millimeter Smith & Wesson M&P Shield. She placed the black polymer pistol on the table.
“Your men,” Dane said, “need a refresher course.”
Russo nodded. “Indeed they do. Well. I am glad this was a friendly visit.”
“One more thing,” Nina said. “Why us instead of your organization?”
“Because somebody in the organization,” Dane said, “caused this problem.”
Russo nodded. “Correct, Mr. Dane. I do not know who I can trust.”
“Pops and Junior?”
“You mean Luigi and Pasquale. They are trustworthy. The others too.”
“How do you know for certain?”
“There are some things a man knows, Mr. Dane.”
“Is finding the traitor part of our job?” Nina said.
“No,” said Russo. “I have my own way of doing that. Of course, if you should learn something”—he smiled—“I know you will do the right thing.”
2
I Want What You Can’t Give
Dane and Nina returned to the hotel and sat in the bar. The waitress delivered Nina’s stirred vodka martini and Dane’s gimlet. The bartender had gone heavy on the lime juice and substituted vodka for gin, but Dane had long ago accepted the fact that nobody outside of England made a proper gimlet. A proper gimlet, as somebody once said, is half gin and half Rose’s Lime Juice and nothing else.
“A toast,” he said. “To our usual shenanigans. May they convince the gray hairs to bother lesser mortals.”
They sat in a far corner with low light. A piano player filled the room with soft music.
Nina said, “Think they’ll watch us?”
“Junior and Pops will be too busy keeping an eye on Russo,” Dane said. “And I’m not convinced they can handle themselves even if the pizza hits the fan.”
“He isn’t exactly the kind of person you think should be walking free. Why make the deal?”
“He gave you two bottles of wine,” Dane said. “He can’t be that bad. And assume the girl is an innocent bystander. This isn’t her battle. She doesn’t deserve to be involved.”
Nina shrugged and sipped her drink.
“Plus, friends in low places are as important as friends in high places. We may need brother Nico if the cops get uppity.”
“We were here on vacation.”
“Face it,” he said. “We would be lost without any action.” Dane checked his watch. “Pretty soon we’ll have plenty.”
That evening they sat in the restaurant over a big dinner. Like the rest of the hotel, the restaurant was decorated with cabin décor and rustic furnishings. A three-paned cone chandelier hung above the table. Nina found the atmosphere dreary, but it reminded Dane of his grandfather’s Montana ranch, which no longer existed, where he had spent many summers as a child.
Dane cut his filet mignon into small pink squares and savored each bite, while Nina munched on grilled salmon covered in a cream sauce. Neither went cheap on liquor and food; life was to be lived, and lived at high speed. While the suffering martyrs of the world preached against the evils of red meat, they devoured the “evil” stuff and enjoyed every moment.
“This sauce is the best thing about this meal,” she said.
“Are you still pissed at me?”
She cocked an eye at him. “Temporary truce. When do you think the cops will want to see you?” Nina sipped some red wine.
“Now,” Dane said, nodding over her shoulder.
The man who entered the dining room had cop written all over him. It wasn’t something any member of the law enforcement community could hide. The way they squared their shoulders or scanned a room, all of those little and seemingly insignificant “tells” communicated to somebody like Dane exactly whom he was dealing with. The cop’s suit fit his stocky body well, and light shined off of his bald head; he looked just shy of forty.
Dane had placed a third chair at the table and now pushed it out with his foot. “Good evening, officer,” he said when the man stopped at the table. “Please have a seat.”
The cop frowned at Dane. He remained on his feet a moment. Nina put her fork down and watched him. The cop sat down and smiled at Nina. He turned to Dane.
“Mr. Dane. I am Lazzaro Palermo. I am a detective with the—”
“I know.”
“I have a few questions about your activities today.”
“We took a bus to Venice and spent the day on a gondola,” Dane said. “Right, honey?”
“That’s right. Honey.”
“My honey,” Dane said to the cop, “is never wrong.”
Palermo cleared his throat. “I have ten witnesses who said you engaged in physical combat with a man who shoved a woman into a car, apparently against her will. Who was that man, and why did you get involved?”
“I have no idea,” Dane said. “I got involved because that’s what I do.”
“You have brought yourself and your companion to the attention of my office, Mr. Dane. How is that productive?”
“You know who I am,” Dane said. “You probably spent the afternoon going through a certain Interpol report about me, am I right?”
“You are not wanted in Italy,” Palermo said. “I would hate very much to see that change. If you had a disagreement with your confederates—”
Dane laughed. “I had nothing to do with what appears to be a kidnapping, Detective. I tried to stop it. Interpol likes to think that I’m the anti-Christ, but I assure you I am merely a humble servant of the Lord, who finds himself under constant persecution. Like right now.”
“Yet you saved a seat for me.”
“I’ll buy you dinner if you want.”
“I’m on duty,” Palermo said. “So you know nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“What had you hoped to accomplish by chasing the vehicle the woman was shoved into?”
Nina jumped in, “Stevie can’t resist a damsel in distress.”
“Does that description apply to you, Miss Talikova?”
“No,” she said. “I only use Stevie for sex. And his money.”
“Not necessarily in that order,” Dane added. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“I spoke with Interpol,” Palermo said. “They told me to expect that you will continue to stick your nose where it does not belong. I am going to give you one warning. You had better stay clean in my town.”
“And the kidnappers?”
“We have our people working on that.”
“Any idea who that the woman is?”
“Enjoy your vacation, Mr. Dane. Make sure it becomes nothing more.”
“And if it does?”
“As you Americans say, no more Mr. Nice Guy.”
Nina said, “I’m not American. Does any of what you said apply to me?”
The cop smiled at Nina and excused himself. Dane waited for him to clear the entryway. None of the other patrons or staff seemed to notice the visit. He said to Nina, “I guess it’s up to you, babe.”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“I knew you would say that.”
She winked.
Dane returned to their suite while Nina went to get the new loaner car provided by Russo, a Dodge Charger with a big V8 motor.
From the bottom of his suitcase, Dane withdrew a leather shoulder harness. A pair of stainless steel semi-automatic pistols also waited in the compartment. The larger of the two guns was a Detonics Scoremaster in .45 caliber. The second was a compact Detonics Combat Master, also in .45. He regularly carried only the Combat Master and saved the larger gun for times when concealment wasn’t necessary.
He slipped his arms through the harness and secured the straps to his belt, inserted the smaller pistol into the spring-clip holster. The gun hung under his left armpit. His jacket completely covered the harness, and no bulge showed. Dane watched himself in the mirror as he practiced a few draws; dropping two spare magazines in each pocket of the jacket, he left the room and joined Nina on the street.
“We’ll get there about an hour early,” Nina said as she merged into traffic.
“I wish you had a machine gun.”
“Forget that,” she said. “I should have a rocket launcher.”
“But you can’t fit one of those in your purse.”
“Only because one that big hasn’t been made yet.”
Dane laughed. “If I ever get killed, you can retire to the Alps and design one yourself.”
“If you ever get killed, darling, I fully intend to die with you.”
The park was one big wide-open space with a few trees. The note ordered Dane to stand by the picnic table. Nina found a place to hide and blended into the shadows. Dane sat on top of the table smoking a Macanudo. He didn’t think the meeting would end in a shooting, but the enemy was expecting to see Russo and could have anything in mind.
Dane had smoked the cigar halfway when a car pulled up curbside. He watched a man get out of the back. Before the man shut the door, Dane saw the tip of a cigarette flare inside the car. There was a second man in the back, but he wasn’t getting out. The first man shut the door, and Dane watched the second man scoot closer to the window. The driver remained in the car as well. The driver did not turn off the engine.
A light wind rustled the trees; Dane glanced around, saw no movement in the surrounding shadows.
The man from the car approached the table. His long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail; he wore the prerequisite black, but instead of a suit, a sport jacket covered a black sweater. His shoes scraped the paved pathway surrounding the picnic table.
“You aren’t Russo,” the man said. He stopped a few feet from the table.
“Russo is here by proxy,” Dane said. He slipped off the table.
“Pity. This would have gone a whole lot smoother. Who are you?”
“Steve Dane.”
The blonde man blinked a few times. “Really. Old Nico had to hire somebody?”
“Good help is hard to find.”
“Don’t I know it,” the man said.
“And you are?”
“Never mind who I am.” He reached inside his jacket. Dane had the compact Detonics Combat Master aimed at the blonde man’s left eye before he withdrew his hand.
Dane said, “Do it slow.”
“Relax.” The hand came out holding a white envelope. He raised it to eye level. “Terms.” The man stretched out his arm, and Dane took the envelope in his free hand.
“Is this all?”
“For now.” The blonde man turned and went back to his waiting vehicle. The driver pulled away.
Dane wanted to follow the car. But the opposition had kept a second car in reserve during the kidnapping; Dane figured they had the same playbook in use tonight. There was no reason to take the risk.
Dane put away the .45 and sat again. He opened the envelope and turned the paper so he could read it by the streetlight. A twig snapped behind him, but he ignored it. He said, “Too much noise.”
“You don’t normally complain,” Nina said, emerging from the other side of a nearby tree. She stopped alongside him. “What is that?”
“The oddest terms I have ever seen,” he said.
He showed her the one-sentence note: I want what you can’t give.
It was signed: The Animal.
“That’s odd,” Nina said.
“Where is Miss Talikova?” Dominico Russo said.
“I dropped her off at the hotel,” Dane said. He took a seat at the same couch he had sat at during his first visit. Russo wheeled close by. Dane described the meeting and showed Russo the note. Russo read the note, dropped his hand in his lap and lowered his head.
“What does this mean, Nico?”
“Amalio ‘The Animal’ Milani.”
“Former enemy?”
“I shot his brother. He swore revenge. He must have been the o
ne who blew up my boat. How he found me, how he found Leila…” He sighed. “It took him years, but he did.”
“I don’t think he knows about your condition,” Dane said. “They expected you. There was a second man in the car that showed up. He watched me and the representative the whole time. I bet that was Milani. He wanted to watch you read the note and start begging.”
Russo shook his head. “What difference does it make?”
“You’ve told me who,” Dane said, “but what else does it mean?”
“I cannot give him back his brother, so he is going to take my daughter.”
Dane looked at the man and ran through a few scenarios in his mind. If there was nothing they could give “The Animal” in exchange, they would have to attempt a rescue. Dane frowned once he realized he had nothing to go on. The blonde man had not given his name, nor had Dane seen any distinguishing marks on the blonde man’s car. Nina, from where she hid, had not been able to see the car; she’d been watching for an ambush, not taking notes.
“What are you thinking about?”
Dane told him. “I’m not sure what to do.” He smiled. “When I was younger, I used to read a lot of Raymond Chandler books. He always said that when his stories slowed down, he’d move things along by having a guy with a gun walk into a room.”
Dane turned to watch the doorway, but nobody entered, armed or otherwise.
“Maybe next time,” he said.
“I do not understand you,” Russo said.
“That’s okay, Nico. I don’t understand me either.” Dane stood and straightened his clothes. “I’ll dig up something. I promise.”
The man in the wheelchair said, “I believe you will.”
3
The Ghosts of Battles Past
As Dane drove away, he knew of one possibility that he had not shared with Russo. Milani saw him; that meant Russo had muscle that Milani had not been counting on, and that put his plan in jeopardy. Dane would have to be terminated.
He used his cell to call Nina. She reported that she was in the middle of a hot bath. She also reported that she had killed half a bottle of wine and was feeling no pain.
