by Ritter Ames
"You two work well together," I said, a bit proud of my team.
"She is very smart. Her brain—" He made a curve motion at the side of his head with an index finger. "You see behind her eyes. She is working. Puzzling it all out."
Wow! I'd better watch out, or my assistant could stage a coup. She already has Max and Nico behind her. I smiled at the thought. Cassie was one person I would trust never to betray me, unlike my current reticence about my old friend Flavia.
"That reminds me." I took a minute to sketch out my concerns about Flavia and reiterate what Jack told me the previous evening about the gallery. "When we get a chance, we need to do some checking on everyone associated with the gallery, but especially Flavia."
He nodded, pulling out his wallet as the view of our hotel filled the windshield.
"But we got off track," I said, stepping from the cab after he opened the curbside door. "I take it you went somewhere else after the warehouse?"
The cabbie passed him my luggage, and Nico extended the handle. "Yes, we went next to a villa on the outskirts of the city. There was a high wall, and the house was at least three stories, but I couldn't find any trace of guard dogs."
"So you think—"
"That is where your friend is staying, I believe."
I barely acknowledged the sumptuous lobby. My mind was too focused on the possibility of interrogating Tina. Nico got us checked into a suite, and I kept silent until we entered the elevator alone with just my one piece of rolling luggage.
"Was the wall electrified?" I asked.
"I saw no evidence. There was razor wire across the top of the wall, however."
I grinned. "I can get around that."
"I know you can."
"Just like his office in Miami, he counts on his goons for protection instead of gizmos. Tony B needs to join the twenty-first century and amp up his security." No dogs. No perimeter electric hazard. A sense of calm filled me. "How many stories did you say?"
"Mostly two. There is a small third story, but I seriously doubt Tina is there. My guess is the balcony bedroom near the southwest corner. At least, I would start there."
"Because?"
"I saw a young woman walk past the open balcony doors while I was scouting out the area. She didn't appear to be a servant."
Our floor dinged, and Nico rolled my bag down the hall. I instinctively noted where the staircase was located, not so much for fire safety as general escape. The keycard produced the necessary green light, and we were inside. I could finally ask the rest of my questions.
"Why didn't you think she was a servant? Was she young? Beautiful?" I asked.
Nico set my bag on the luggage rack, then walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. He lowered himself elegantly into the leather seat and took a moment to pinch the crease in his tan slacks, pointedly ignoring me until he was ready. Then he looked up and smiled. "Yes, she was young, and she was beautiful."
I was about to ask if she resembled the picture that first appeared on the Internet in connection with the murder in Bricknell, but I stopped when Nico added, "And after she removed a chin-length blond wig, she pulled out the clips in her dark hair, and the long waves fell to the middle of her back."
"Bingo!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
By nine in the evening, Detective Roblo's plane landed at the Galileo Galilei Airport in Pisa, and he would soon be en route by train to Florence. It was the cheaper way to get into the area, and I felt sorry for him having to take the longer route. Originally, we'd planned to wait for him before approaching the villa, had even promised him we would when he returned our call during his long layover at Heathrow. Then he called from the train, pleased to inform us he'd connected with authorities in Pisa and made sure Tony B stayed under surveillance as we directed our investigation toward the villa.
I choked out words that sounded something like "Oh good lord" and tossed the phone to Nico. When he disconnected, I was already changing into my black Lycra catsuit.
He shifted rapidly through screens on his phone and said, "I take it you believe our detective was a bit naïve in thinking he could trust the polizia in Pisa."
"No, right now I'm thinking we were beyond naïve and way over into stupid to trust a detective from Miami!" I finished pulling at the neckline to get the material to lay comfortably over my shoulders. "Can you track Tony B's movements?"
"He is currently using his phone. Given what the detective said, and based on the cell towers triggered by Tony B's call and his movements, I can deduce that he is heading back this way from Pisa at a significantly higher rate of speed than the posted limit."
"Shit!" I added a utility belt around my waist. "Can we get there ahead of him?"
"I expect it will be close."
With the right tools, I can get into anything, and I'd spent that afternoon acquiring whatever I needed to break into the villa in the event the worst-case scenario occurred. Currently, we were well past that point.
Half an hour later I had Nico planted along the inside of the villa's perimeter wall and was scaling the building's rock face like Spiderman. Only a fanny pack of chalk powder kept my hands from slipping from the stone façade. Nico had a rope and grappling hook if he had to ride to the rescue, but I preferred to try the stealth approach.
Each move offered its own risk and reward. I couldn't climb close to Tina's room, because the wall below it was a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows and a French door that accessed the patio. I had to move over about twelve feet to start my climb, then once I reached the second level take a horizontal path to get back to the balcony. Anytime a hold slipped, I grabbed another handful of chalk. I knew my suit would look like a panda by the time I reached my objective, but I carried a set of wipes tucked into my bra to return my suit to its black beauty at the proper time.
I heard movement and shouts inside the villa, and engines revving in the garage. Time was ticking away fast for us to pull this off, but at least all the activity kept them from noticing me attempting to sneak inside.
When I reached the balcony, I slid my left foot over to balance on the railing. Then I carefully dragged my right shoe left to meet its mate. Every nerve ending in me wanted to leap off and run into the room, but my endless planning and training held me back. I couldn't stop a quiet thump when I hit the stone deck, but I reassured myself I was the only one who heard the sound.
In seconds, I removed the wipes and dusted away the chalk from my suit in case I needed to move further into the house and hide in shadows. I knew Nico would be watching to see me when I hit the light from the room, so I didn't bother to wave or give him any kind of high sign. Focus was the key, and I was giving it my all.
Under the glare of every bedroom light, I saw Tina flitting from one end of the room to the other, packing her clothes and sorting through papers. Some of the pages were packed in a file case. Others were shredded. I couldn't help wondering what was too sensitive to simply throw away. Bills of lading? Counterfeit provenance on the marked masters we'd already discovered? And what part had she played in this terrifying farce of fakes, guns, and dead bodies?
I unsheathed the knife hanging on the opposite side of my belt from the chalk pack and pulled the flexible plastic tie cuffs from my bra. I waited. Whenever she shredded documents, Tina had to turn so her back was to me. If she grabbed a larger than normal stack, I planned to use her action, along with the grinding noise of the shredder, to cover my entrance. I'd almost given up hope, when she grabbed the last stack, scanned the top couple of sheets, then grasped one side tight in one hand and used the other to fan through the pages from the opposite corner as if she were viewing a flip book. Satisfied, she moved to the shredder with the ream of paper.
My knife was at her throat in seconds.
"Put your hands behind your back."
"Laurel, I—"
"Now!" I let the knife scrape her skin. She didn't need any more persuasion. A second later my free hand held her wrists together, and I held the knife between
my teeth so I could restrain her with the zip tie cuffs. I shoved her toward a chair, but she missed the seat and landed in a heap on the floor. I pulled another zip tie from my bra and bound her ankles together, then flashed the knife so her eyes grew wide as I asked, "Who killed Phyllis? You or Tony B?"
"Are you kidding me? Who cares?" She started crying, and her face mottled in red splotches as her angry words spewed. "You know what my family is like. You saw how I was pimped out to any feeble old billionaire Phyllis could sink her tentacles into. You have no idea the kind of humiliation—"
"So now you pimp yourself out to Tony B?"
Her tears stopped in an instant, and she sneered at me. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You're off base completely."
"Why did Tony B have Jack arrested?"
"Because he could!" she snapped at me.
"What is he afraid of? Why is he after Jack and me?"
She started laughing then, and I wondered if mental illness was also a gift from Phyllis, given the manic shift she'd just broad jumped from despair all the way through to glee. When she stopped laughing, she said, "He isn't afraid of anyone. You have no idea the scope of what and whom you're dealing with, Laurel. You have no idea who you're dealing with when it comes to Tony B."
"No, he has no idea who he's dealing with when he messes with me. Especially if he thinks he can get Jack arrested and thinks I'm going to simply walk away."
"This is so much bigger than you. You can't imagine." She laughed again and nodded. "Why don't you just ask Tony B for yourself what he thinks?"
I felt the gun barrel at my temple. It was the Miami office all over again. I'd never heard him coming up behind me. Before I could step away, his arm looped my waist and tightened like steel, holding me tight against him, unable to move.
"Yes, Laurel." I heard the laughter trapped in Tony B's voice. "Why don't you ask me yourself if I'm afraid of you? Or of Jack."
The only chance I had was to use conversation to try to throw him off-balance. My knife was useless with his gun to my head. I asked a question he wasn't expecting.
"The only thing I really want to know is what I did to piss off Moran."
"Huh?" His grip around my waist loosened for a second, but not enough for me to risk trying to break free. He said, "How should I know? I don't give a rat's ass what that old man wants. I only care about what's going to make me rich and give me power. And you've been a hitch to my plans much too often. You've messed up things for months and never even knew it, just kept sticking your nose in places it didn't belong and drawing attention to people and events I needed to keep quiet. Letting too many people know Tina isn't dead is just the latest. Now you've even brought in a Miami detective to arrest her and take her back to Florida. That's it. That's the last kink you're ever going to put into my plans, Laurel Beacham."
"Who wanted Jack arrested? You or Moran?" I pushed, ignoring what he'd already said.
He whirled me around to face him, stepping back to aim the gun at my heart. "What's this Moran shit? You think I work for that creaky old bastard?" He spit on the floor. "Stop thinking, Laurel. You know nothing and will soon know even less." He wrenched the knife from my hand. "But you will not be screwing up my plans anymore, and I will never again have to restage things because of your crap-ass way of walking in at the wrong time. I should have killed you in my office right away, but I wanted to show you the damned Sebastians first. That's my good nature biting me in the ass once again."
The room was warm, even with the balcony doors open, and the stocking cap made sweat run into my eyes. I thought of how brave Jack had looked, standing in the palazzo as the carabinieri marched him away, and hoped I could stay half as strong. Just the fact that Tony used military connections instead of the more local polizia scared me. How much more could Jack be going through at that very moment? Who did this thug have in his pocket, and how far would he go?
Tony B kept whining on, but I'd stopped listening. I looked over my shoulder at Tina, still on the floor, her hands cuffed, forgotten by the man she'd decided was her savior as he went on with his monologue and his power trip. Nevertheless, she smirked at me. She might be tossed aside tomorrow, but right then she was on the winning team.
For the millionth time I wished I'd listened to Jack as he'd lectured in the Town Car. If I ever had another chance I would—
CRASH!
The window behind us shattered. Tina screamed. Tony B wheeled around to shoot. I saw the grappling hook lying atop the glass and a figure at the end of the balcony. As Tony B aimed, he loosened his grip enough that I could pull free as he squeezed off his first shot. A cry for Nico lodged in my throat. But it wasn't Nico. Jack was knocked against the balcony railing and crumpled to the floor.
Tony B aimed his gun at Jack's head.
"No!"
I high-kicked his gun hand, and the Beretta flew from his grip and skittered across the room. My next kick slammed his chest. He staggered, off guard, and I smashed his nose with my fist. Blood spurted through his fingers as he held up his hands to protect his face from another blow. I aimed my next kick for his balls but changed direction when I noticed Tina scooting toward the gun.
"Oh, no, you don't." I dove in the same instant she scuttled closer to the weapon. It was a photo finish, but I came away with the gun in my hand.
"Over there," I shouted at her, my adrenalin level likely through the roof. "Next to your favorite asshole." She didn't move fast enough, and I shot wide to get her attention. "Over there, I said. The next shot won't be a miss!"
She got as close to Tony B as a second skin. I kept the gun trained on both of them as I walked backward, crunching glass, to check on Jack. I felt tears on my cheeks, and that made me even more livid. Appearing weak in front of that rat bastard Tony B was the last thing I wanted to do.
As I got next to Jack, he rose up, and the relief I felt was almost overwhelming.
"Jack, are you—"
He grabbed the gun from my hand and jerked my arm, then kicked my legs out from under me. I hit the floor of the balcony as a flying object slammed into the balustrades where I'd been standing. Simultaneously, I heard Jack fire a shot over my body. When I looked to see what had flown toward me, I discovered my knife.
"Why aren't any of his men coming to find out what happened?" Below us I could hear Nico hollering for us to send down the rope, but my brain wasn't working well enough yet to comply.
"Everyone's gone." Jack's voice was weak but steady. "Tony B sent them away, planning to take care of you himself. That was our tip-off to move in. All the cars leaving, but you and Tina still inside." He used the railing to pull himself to his feet and held his ribs with one hand as he moved closer to our captives. He waved the gun toward the grappling hook and rope, and said, "Hang this on the rail for Nico."
I moved then, finally realizing things were going to work out in our favor. But while Jack was mobile, he wasn't unscathed. "I take it you're wearing a Kevlar vest." I tossed the end of the rope to Nico.
"Yeah, no blood, but at least one broken rib. Probably two."
"Where have you been? And how did you know to come here?"
He kept the gun trained on Tina and Tony B. "The first question would take too long to explain. I'll just say it was a good thing this asshole tapped military connections. That helped me tremendously." He took a couple of shallow breaths, then said, "Regarding your second question, I was in Pisa keeping an eye on—" He motioned the gun toward Tony B. "I picked up enough conversation, and saw the quick move out, and knew something was happening back here."
"I'm glad you did." I moved next to him and put an arm around his waist. He was flagging fast.
Nico came up behind him and took the gun. In the distance we could hear the bebop of Italian sirens. "Get him out of here," Nico said then aimed at a spot near the ceiling and fired. Plaster flew as the bullet buried itself in the wallboard. "I will take care of this, Jack. Hurry."
"But you'll be arrested," I said. "I'll tell
them I shot him."
"I am Italian—you are not," Nico reminded, speaking quietly. "Take off your gloves and bury them in your chalk pack to hide the gunshot residue. I will be fine. Max will get someone good to represent me."
"No."
Jack squeezed my arm and spoke softly. I hoped it was only to keep the other two from overhearing what was said and not because he was more hurt than he admitted. "Help me get off the balcony. That's faster than going through the house. Then stay here with Nico as a witness. He's right. He already has gunshot residue on his skin. If you don't stay and back up his story as self-defense, Tony B could twist it around with Tina's help."
As we reached the balustrade, I leaned down to pick up the knife, but Jack stopped me. "Leave it. And make sure you and Nico say Tony B threw the knife at Nico, not you. It needs to be a self-defense plea, even though I only hit him in the shoulder."
I nodded and climbed over the railing before giving the grappling hook another good tug and reaching a hand out to Jack. He clasped my fingers, holding onto the railing as I guided his hand toward the rope. Then we descended in a kind of reverse piggyback style so I could keep Jack from an accidental free fall.
The sirens were close by the time we hit the grass.
He gave me a careful hug. "Thank you. Now, get back up there."
"In a minute." I pulled my cell phone out of the side pocket of the fanny pack and started thumbing through my contacts. "Do you have a passport?"
"Yes, I have a passport. I'll get away. Don't worry."
I held up a finger for silence as my call started ringing at the other end. "Clive? Can you hear me?"
"Laurel, love, are you ready to fly with us again? We're leaving Rome in a few minutes and heading back to England," the roadie replied.
I smiled. "Not yet. I have a little more business to take care of first. But I have a friend who could really use your concierge service."
"A friend, you say?"
"Yes, and you might recognize him. You snapped enough pictures of him at Gatwick," I said.
