The Professor

by Rachel Renee

  “I haven’t looked at surveillance footage today. You see anything?”

  “Nothing note-worthy.”

  “I’m going to go through it tonight.” I shut the lid on my laptop and grab myself another slice of pizza. After opening the refrigerator, I grab the chilled bottle of wine Charlie put in there earlier today, pop the cork, and pour the liquid into two glasses. I hand Charlie one as I consume the other. Before replacing the bottle back into the refrigerator, I top off my glass and do the same for Charlie’s. There isn’t much left at that point, so I pull the bottle up to my lips and let the cool liquid slide into my open mouth. Charlie is laughing as I throw the bottle into the trash can and grab up my computer and glass.

  “I’m getting back to work. The sooner we solve this, the sooner I get home to my lady.”

  “I feel you. This place isn’t as appealing as it used to be.”

  The wine and my laptop accompany me to my room. I prop my pillows up and get the blankets just right so that I can hunker down and be comfortable for the rest of my viewing experience. Launching the cameras takes no time at all and I’m combing through the day’s activities in the Rubio household as the sun is setting behind the buildings, and the light it once brought into the room has left.

  40

  Days pass with no visitors to the cottage in the hills. Santi and I have coffee each morning. He’s the same Santi I knew all those years ago. We converse about various topics, but nothing ever about work. For either of us. I have to go for a run every morning after coffee, just to calm myself, to clear my head. Why would Santi be performing the same business dealings that got his father killed? I wish I could tell him to stop. Save him from himself, from the years of incarceration that he will receive for his crimes. That’s not who I am, as much as I wish, just this time, that I was.

  Sophia, Charlie, the boys and I eat dinner together each night. Leaving here is going to be tough. My chest feels tight every time I think too long about that fact. I’ve grown accustomed to the boys’ laughter and jokes, and Sophia’s mothering of not only them, but Charlie and I as well. I’ve got Martha back in Savannah, but, it’s been a while since my own mother has cooked a meal for me, or made my favorite cake, or made sure that I had a full belly before I went off to bed. It’s interesting how the relationship dynamic has changed from this time to the last.

  Every night, I hear Charlie asking Sophia about connections. I overheard them once talking about Santi, but she denied having feelings for him other than friendship. I agreed with Charlie when he said I should steer clear of those types of conversations with her. It has worked out well. Although, Santi is another story. He doesn’t talk of women as he used to. The only one he ever mentions is Sophia and, in all truthfulness, that bothers me. I can’t put my finger on why, though.

  It has been a week since Charlie and I visited the cottage. There have been no signs of human presence there, so when I turn on the laptop after coffee, I’m surprised to see Santi’s car sitting in front of the open front door on camera A. Even more surprised because he just left me less than thirty minutes ago and it takes longer to get to the cottage than that. He must have been speeding, there is no other explanation. The video feed from the back door is empty of anyone and the office camera is black, like someone turned it off. I double-click it to see if it’s online only to realize that it has definitely been turned off.

  Did Santi find the camera or did something happen to it? I open the file and system settings to see what I can discover. The first thing I notice is I can’t get it back on. I wonder if the battery died?

  I get up from my chair to go ask Charlie about it when he comes barreling up the stairs, his own laptop in his hands. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “Did you know the office camera is off?”

  “Yep. But did you watch the footage from before it was offline?”

  “Not yet.”

  Charlie drops his computer to the table, refreshing the screen and pressing PLAY on the footage that he has enlarged. “Wait for it.”

  I stare at the screen for what seems like a half an hour before anything comes into view. The door to the office opens, and a man with a baseball cap comes strolling into the room. It is not Santi, quite stockier, in fact. His back is to the camera so we haven’t had a chance to see his face yet. The man walks over to the desk, opens the top drawer and rifles around, which is odd because there was nothing in it when I checked it last week.

  His head is down as his hand moves in the open drawer. The moment he finds what he is searching for and shuts the desk, his head pops up and his face is in plain view for us to see.

  My breathing halts. “What?”

  “I couldn’t believe it either.”

  “They said he was dead.”

  “Apparently, someone didn’t have their facts straight. That, or Moretti has a twin.”

  I watch as the man who was presumed dead places the cord he just retrieved from the desk into his phone, attaching the other end to the computer. He sits in the chair, pulling his hat from his now bald head and waits for whatever he is doing to finish. Those light eyes are still the same, vacant and haunted. I’m not sure how he has evaded the CIA for so long, or who was involved in faking his death, but we’ve got him now. Is he working for Santi? Why would Santi hire him?

  You can see Moretti’s head swivel and his eyes dart from the computer up to the walls as he waits. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I’d never believe that he spotted the camera from his vantage point. I watched as his eyes widened and he sprang from the chair. My gaze never leaves the screen while he marches to the wall, right up to the minuscule device and then blackness. He smashed our camera. Probably in his fingertips; it’s that small.

  “Do you think he knows it’s us?”

  “How could he? I bet he knows it is CIA, though.” I’m looking up at the man who is staring down at me.

  “This changes things,” he says.

  “Yeah, but how much? We don’t know what he’s doing. If he is working for Santi or on his own.”

  “I think we need to go back to the cottage and plant another camera. We should probably hide it better this time. I wonder what else he found.”

  “Hard telling, but I agree. We need to go back and find out.”

  “I’m taking my laptop, you drive.”

  “You want to go now?”

  “Of course I do. With any luck, maybe he’ll still be there trying to find the other cameras.” Charlie has shut his computer and is already heading toward the door.

  I hope he is there. “Better grab the gun.”

  “I never leave home without mine,” Charlie teases.

  The two of us are out the door and in the car five minutes later. The city center is crowded so it takes longer than I want to maneuver through the streets. My mind is racing as the car is speeding through the open roads just outside of Rome. If Moretti is there, what will we do? If Santi has shown up, then what? Scenario after scenario plays out as Charlie tries to get the feed from the cottage to load up on the laptop without a proper signal.

  “Dammit,” he shouts, causing me to swerve. “I can’t get the computer to boot back up. We’re going in blind.”

  “What about your phone? You can sign in to the cameras with it. Why can’t you pull up the feed?”

  “Design flaw.”

  “How convenient.” I feel the clamminess of my hands glide against the grain of the steering wheel. “Do you think we should call this in?”

  “I think we wait and see if there is anything to call in.”

  “We should let them know about Moretti. Don’t you think?”

  “Not yet. Too many cooks in the kitchen. We’ll let them know when we have more.”

  I don’t like to keep my superior in the dark but I can inform him this evening of everything once we know a little more of what we are dealing with. I’m so focused on my thoughts that I almost miss the turnoff to the cottage. It feels like it took no time at all to get her
e once we got out of the traffic of Rome.

  Charlie and I park further up the drive, secure our guns, and exit the vehicle. We approach quickly until the cottage is in sight and then instinctively, we shorten our stride. The car from the video feed is still parked in front of the door. I thought it was Santi’s, but the rear license plate is different. Same make and model of car though. What I’m not prepared for is the second Maserati parked to the right of the first. That one, however, is Santi’s. The two are working together. I almost can’t believe it, but again, it’s right in front of my eyes.

  I draw my weapon, as does Charlie. We should call this in, I realize. The adrenaline pumping in my veins makes me pause and react. We’re out in the open, most likely already spotted, so the two of us move into opposite tree lines, lowering our bodies at our approach. Hopefully, the two of us can fight our way out of this alive and I’ve got a plan now, in case we find ourselves in a bind. Charlie and I use hand signals to direct our paths. He goes right, I go left, moving swiftly to the front door and entering one at a time. The room is open and empty, so we stop and listen. Thankfully, we don’t have to split up because you can only go one way from the entrance.

  Staying as close to the left wall as I can, my feet move me through the house. Charlie sticks with his right position and reaches the kitchen entrance before I do. We halt when we hear a voice coming from the back room. Guess we know where our suspects are. I can’t understand what they’re saying, but someone is most certainly talking. The door is cracked just enough for me to peer in. Charlie has fallen back and switched to my side of the hallway, pulling up directly behind me.

  “I was stupid,” I hear.

  “I should have known they’d figure it out.”

  It’s the same voice, only one person is talking and I know who it is. I look back at Charlie and with a nod of his head, I turn back, kicking the door wide open. Those glasslike eyes go wide as his hands fumble for an item on the desk.

  “Don’t move.” My gun is trained on Moretti’s head, and so is Charlie’s.

  Moretti stops moving his hands but his whole body starts shaking in raucous laughter. “They put you two idiots back on the job?”

  “We apparently aren’t as big of idiots as you are,” Charlie announces.

  I’m not sure I would call Moretti an idiot. He is quite clever, if you ask me. For ten years, people thought he was dead. Who knows what all he has gotten away with.

  There is a whimper from the corner that momentarily draws my attention away from Moretti. The figure of a man is slumped against the wall and there is blood spilling out over the floor beneath him.

  “Santi!” I look back at Charlie, who moves in closer to Moretti. He has his gun pointed at the one man so I move to the injured one on the floor.

  “You are CIA?” Santi’s mouth is gaping open, but his eyes are nearly shut.

  My head bobs up and down as I look over Santi, trying to figure out where the red liquid is coming from.

  “I am so dumb,” Santi mumbles.

  I ignore his comment. “What happened?” I finally ask when I can’t find the source.

  Santi’s head rolls to the side and that’s when the injury becomes apparent. There is a huge gash on the back of his head. Head wounds bleed a lot, which is why there is so much blood. From where I’m now kneeling, I see Santi’s hands are secured, so I reach around and grab the end of the rope, releasing them. They fall to his side but are unmoving after gravity takes effect. Seems Santi has slipped back into a comatose state. I take off my t-shirt and press it against the wound, trying to sop up some of the blood that continues to escape.

  “He’s worthless.” Moretti hoots. “I knew whoever was working the case would come here to find out what happened to their camera, so I lured the kid in. Needed to make sure I took care of everything once and for all.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, looking back at the man.

  “Now that I have everything I need, he is of no use to me,” Moretti answers.

  Charlie is almost right on top of Moretti when I rise from the floor. His gun is inches from the man’s face. I raise mine again, preparing to react, depending on what Moretti decides to do. As Charlie’s gun metal meets Moretti’s red lips, Moretti smiles and Charlie’s lips move upward.

  My gun is pointed at Moretti, but now I’m not sure if I should turn it toward Charlie. What in the hell is happening? Charlie is smiling in my direction, the red laser from his gun hitting me right between the eyes, and his other arm is wrapped around Moretti’s shoulders. My mind can’t wrap around the fact that he has been playing me this whole time. Why?

  “Why?” I ask it out loud.

  “You had something we needed, to finish what we started,” Charlie growls.

  “It has been over ten years. What in the world could I possibly have?”

  “Santi’s confidence. A way to get into the estate. Neither of us could get close to him. We’ve tried for years to figure out a way.”

  “I still don’t understand. What were you trying to get close to him for? His money?”

  “My money,” Moretti shouts, his smile fading. “Our money,” he retracts after I see Charlie’s fingers grip tighter to his shoulder. “If it wasn’t for me, Rubio would have never known about those weapons. Would never have been linked to the military men who could get him what he needed or sell for him the fruits of his labor. When he was killed, I thought I could get it all back, but the accounts we had hidden from the CIA were mainly in Santi’s name.”

  Everything is clicking. I couldn’t understand why they would call me back out here after all this time. It wasn’t the CIA that needed me, it was Charlie and apparently, Moretti. Once Charlie gained access to the computer at the Rubio estate, he could link the accounts that Moretti had been accessing from here. Since Moretti was presumed dead, he probably couldn’t acquire access to the things he could before. Charlie didn’t have clearance either, so they had to do the next best thing. Get to the main source. When they couldn’t accomplish it, they called in for reinforcements.

  “Well played,” I tell them without moving the gun from Moretti’s face. I still think he must be the mastermind in all of this.

  Moretti rolls his eyes at me and I can’t help but think what a childish move that is. “I just complimented you and you roll your eyes?”

  He snorts. “You have no idea the game we played. I’m sorry that you had to be a pawn once more, but”—he shrugs, moving closer to me—“what’s a man to do? I needed my money, and I am well past retirement.”

  “You had access to some accounts. If you weren’t so greedy, you could have been long gone by now.”

  “It’s not greed, Nic. It’s getting what is rightfully mine. I created the Rubio name, well, Paolo and I started in this together. I was in charge from the very beginning, but I’m smarter than Paolo ever was and convinced him to be the front man. I was in the wings, playing the part of a lowly CIA agent, but really, I was orchestrating everything. I knew the players, knew the ins and outs of the military bases, who could be trusted and who was willing to make an extra buck on the side. Paolo prospered, but when he did, he tried to get rid of me.”

  “Why would he do that if you were his cash cow?”

  “You mentioned the word greed before.” Moretti’s brows wag. “Paolo was greedy. He didn’t want to share. I did what I thought was right and called in his deceit to headquarters. They sent a woman in to help. Poor Sophia, she was doomed from the beginning. Paolo Rubio was a ladies’ man, and he knew how to get what he wanted. The moment he laid eyes on Sophia, he was going to have her. She was his demise. While he was wrapped up in trying to swoon her, I was planning how I would get rid of him, not just have him arrested, but killed.”

  I’m listening to this man replay what happened in my first mission. All this was going on in the background. He was working to get Paolo taken out, and he had all the information from both sides. He had players in both courts and looking back, I realize no
thing happened until he was ready for it to.

  My eyes flit back and forth between the two men. Charlie has one leg propped on the desk and his gun is still aimed in my direction. His shoulders are slack though, and he’s paying more attention to Moretti who is slowly making his way in my direction. That’s where my gun is trained. He gets much closer and there’s going to be a bullet flying through him.

  “I was working on the whole Taylor deal when Sophia wussed out and called for reinforcements. That’s when my man”—he throws his thumb back—“and I were reacquainted.” He looks back at Charlie momentarily before shuffling my way.

  Those two were working together even then. I think back to all those times I questioned what they were doing, what they were hiding from me. Now, I know. I feel my face heat up and despite me normally keeping a level head, my trigger finger is itching. “Is Sophia a part of this too?”

  “No, your sweet Sophia is innocent.” Moretti winks. “Santi, well, his hands are clean too. We fabricated the whole connection between him and the military weapons. I just had to make a couple of phone calls, send a couple of forged emails, and poof, we had a new case based on an old claim.”

  I can smell the stale coffee from Moretti’s breath as he stops just short of me. If I stretched my arm out fully, the gun would be pressed against the bridge of his nose. And that is exactly what I do. “You do not intimidate me. I’m not the new recruit you had working for you years ago.” The gun is pressed so hard it is making an indention in his skin.

  A shudder runs through Moretti as he hesitantly takes one step backward. “What are you going to do, Liam? Shoot me?”

  “You’re already dead, so it’s no sweat off my back.”

  “If you shoot me, then Charlie shoots you.”

  “The way I see it, my bullet goes straight through your head, passes through Charlie’s, then embeds itself in the wall behind him.”

  Moretti smirks and takes another small step in the opposite direction. I’m not bluffing. I would love nothing more than to take these two imposters in alive, but I have no qualms about shooting them either. Charlie’s gun is still pointed at me, but he has to go through Moretti’s head to get to mine, so I’m not worried. If anyone goes down, it will be him, for sure.