Natalie's Dilemma: a Frank Renzi crime thriller (Frank Renzi novels Book 7)

by Susan Fleet

  “Sure.” He sat at the table and watched her add ice cubes to two glasses and fill them from a container of filtered water. She looked just as sexy as she had when he'd met her four years ago. Five years younger than him and not a speck of gray in her short dark hair. Smart, slender and fit, and never boring. She could be volatile and obstinate as hell, but he'd take sexy over boring any day.

  She brought the glasses to the table, sank onto her chair and chugged some water. Knowing Angelique's boy weighed on her mind, he said, “Tell me about Jacques.” By mutual agreement, they stuck to benign topics while they ate.

  Predictably, she looked even less happy than she had after the phone call from her client. “I talked to Angelica's grandmother.” Kelly shook her head. “She's only forty-two, a year younger than me! I can't imagine being a mother, never mind a grandmother.”

  Nor could he. Kelly had no interest in having children, or pets for that matter, had complained when her now-deceased husband adopted stray dogs. Back then she'd been working hard to win her NOPD detective shield. When she had time, which wasn't often, she fashioned earrings, bracelets and tie-clips out of metal. He hadn't seen any new ones lately.

  “She loves Jacques,” Kelly said, “but she's not going to quit her job. She's a mid-level executive, making good money. Which means Jacques will be in day care all week. Not what he needs.”

  He thought about five-year-old Bianca, her mother dead, her father comatose. “Maybe she could find a nanny to stay with him. An older woman experienced with young children.”

  Kelly twirled a lock of curly dark hair around her finger, gazing at him. Normally he loved her sea-green eyes, but now they were hard as granite. “I'm packing my Glock all the time these days. If I spot King Rock, I'll arrest the motherfucker and bring him in!”

  He believed it. When Kelly made up her mind to do something, there was no dissuading her. But trying to arrest King Rock could get her killed. The baddest motherfucker in town. He'd seen the damage a bullet could inflict, and plenty of cops died in shootouts with criminals.

  During his twenty-plus years as a cop, he'd been shot at several times, a life-changing experience, each one etched in his mind. He could still remember thinking: You're dead, Renzi. Could still remember the euphoric rush when the shot missed. The sudden appreciation of being alive, hyper-aware of the sights and sounds and smells around him.

  Three times he'd been hit, most recently by Natalie two years ago, a gunshot wound to the leg. It put him in the hospital and sidelined him for two months while he did rehab to get back in shape.

  Earlier that year, Kelly had taken a bullet too. She had been lucky to survive, a nerve-wracking close call. He reached over and caressed her cheek. “I know you want this guy, but promise me one thing. Call for backup before you make your move.”

  Kelly frowned at him, her sea-green eyes sending a clear message: I'm gonna get the fucker. “You think I'm too emotionally involved, right?”

  He sipped some ice water. She wanted him to deny it, but he wasn't going to lie to her. She was over-the-top involved. But who was he to judge? He was obsessed with Natalie. In two days, he would see her.

  “I'm flying to New York on Friday. Guess who's landing at JFK?”

  Kelly cocked an eyebrow and grinned at him. “That sexy blonde on House of Cards, Robin Wright? I know you're wild about her.”

  He burst out laughing. “You know how to hurt a guy. Come on, Kelly. You know you're my one and only.”

  “So who's flying into JFK on Friday?”

  “Natalie Brixton.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? I thought you were joking. You're really going to New York City on Friday?”

  “Yes. She flies into JFK on Friday morning.”

  Thunder clouds gathered on Kelly's face. “What about King Rock?”

  “I'll only be there one day, fly back Friday night, Saturday morning at the latest.”

  He summarized what John Conti had told him about the heist, the murders and the kidnapping. “He got Natalie to infiltrate the Mafia gang, play nanny to Bianca and feed him information so he can find the kingpin, who lives somewhere in the United States, allegedly.”

  “Wow,” Kelly said. “That sounds like a made-for-TV movie.”

  “Conti doesn't know that I plan to arrest Natalie.”

  “Be careful, Frank. She shot you once. She could do it again.”

  “Not this time. She won't have a gun. She'd never get it through security and Customs.”

  “If she's with a Mafia gang, what's to say they won't have weapons?”

  “She's the nanny. They're not going to give her a gun.”

  Kelly said nothing, but he could see her mind working.

  “You want to capture King Rock. I want to arrest Natalie.” Again, his thoughts turned to Bianca. What would become of her after he arrested Natalie? He didn't share his concerns with Kelly. She would be outraged.

  “Frank, I'm serious. Natalie already shot you once.”

  He didn't want to think about Natalie. Didn't want to think about King Rock or the two little kids—one five, the other three—whose mothers had been murdered. He wanted to take his lover to bed.

  He rose from his chair, pulled Kelly to her feet and kissed her, a long lingering kiss.

  “You got too many clothes on. Can I sleep here tonight?”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “Sounds good to me, Frank. It's been a while.”

  CHAPTER 13

  THURSDAY December 16 – 3:35 PM – Rome

  When their car pulled to a stop behind Orazio's SUV at Leonardo Da Vinci Airport, Natalie got out right away. She was desperate to call Pak Lam. This might be her only chance. Orazio dashed her hopes.

  Wearing a dark business suit and mirrored sunglasses, he called to Tommy and Catarina, “Hurry up or we miss our flight!”

  A highway construction project had delayed them. Seated in front with the driver, Tommy cursed at the drivers who tried to cut in front of them. Catarina told him to stop swearing. Dressed in navy-blue pants and a long-sleeved boy's shirt, Bianca sat between her and Catarina. The girl still wouldn't talk to her, unlike Catarina, who went on and on about shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue. How could she think?

  Conti had confiscated her iPhone, laptop and credit card, had given her a cellphone that only sent and received texts and said if she texted anyone else he would know it. She had to find another way to contact Pak Lam.

  Orazio's driver took their suitcases out of the SUV and put them on the sidewalk. Tommy grabbed Bianca's pint-sized suitcase, but Bianca said, “No! Mine!” When Tommy didn't give it to her, she stamped her foot. “I want my suitcase!”

  “Catarina,” Orazio said sharply, “get her into the terminal. Laura will take her suitcase. We'll take the rest.” Barking orders like a general.

  She slung the strap of her leather purse over her shoulder, collected Bianca's suitcase and followed Catarina. The terminal was jammed with travelers. Catarina, walking as fast as she could in her spike heels, hurried Bianca along. When Tommy and Orazio caught up to them, Orazio gave them their boarding passes and said, “We check the bags at the gate. Follow me to Security, and remember. No names.”

  She knew they were traveling on false passports, but Conti had told her they would have no problem passing through Security. His boss had spoken to the security chief. When they got to the checkpoint, Orazio seemed nervous, a sheen of sweat dampening his forehead. Recalling her anxiety in similar situations, Natalie suppressed a smile. The agent checked Orazio's ID, comparing the photo on his passport to his face. At last, he waved Orazio through and repeated the procedure with Tomasso, Catarina, and Bianca.

  Bianca seemed mystified, gazing at the crowd of passengers and the security equipment. What name had they given her, Natalie wondered. A boy's name, probably.

  The agent checked her Ling Lam passport and waved her toward the security machines. Orazio and Tomasso had already put their luggage on the con
veyor belt. Orazio placed his worn leather briefcase on the belt, lined it up just so, then removed his shoes and his watch. She wondered where the stolen diamonds were, not that she cared. Her mind was focused on one thing: Call Pak Lam, get to New York City and escape.

  Tomasso put his shoes in a gray-plastic bin, added Catarina's purse and a plastic bag with Bianca's toys. Natalie put her leather handbag and suitcase on the conveyor belt. After she passed through the metal detector, Orazio waved to her impatiently. “Hurry up! Our flight will board in ten minutes.”

  Wishing she'd worn running shoes, she lengthened her stride, cursing her luck. If their flight boarded in ten minutes there would be no opportunity to call Pak Lam.

  But when they reached their gate, a sign behind the desk said their flight had been delayed. Frowning, Orazio marched up to the gate attendant. Catarina settled Bianca onto a chair in a row of seats against the wall and sat beside her. Tommy took the seat opposite them and took out a newspaper, one from Venice, Natalie realized. She could see the headline on the front page: HUSBAND COMATOSE, GIRL STILL MISSING. No wonder Orazio was in a hurry to leave town.

  She took the seat beside Bianca, who was paging through a book with colorful illustrations of two children building a snowman.

  “All this rushing,” Catarina said, smiling at her, “and now we wait. But this gives me an opportunity to visit the duty-free shop!”

  Orazio joined them and said in Italian, “Good news. We will make our connection.”

  “But the news from Venice isn't,” Tommy said, showing him the newspaper.

  “Put that away,” Orazio said. “Help me bring our luggage to the desk so they can check it.”

  Catarina rose to her feet. “I'm going to the duty-free shop.”

  “Okay,” Orazio said, “but if you're not here when they start boarding, we leave without you.”

  “Don't worry,” Catarina said, “I will be back in plenty of time.”

  Natalie glanced at Bianca. She seemed content, paging through her picture book. Now that Catarina was gone, maybe she could find a way to call Pak Lam. He must be frantic. She was supposed to have met his contact in Lyon on Monday. But Conti had foiled her escape. In forty minutes they would board the plane. She couldn't call Pak Lam if Bianca was with her, but she couldn't just get up and leave. Orazio was watching her, his expression stony.

  Bianca dropped the book on the floor and began swinging her feet back and forth under her seat, faster and faster. Orazio frowned at her and said, “Stop that.”

  She leaned down and whispered to Bianca, “Let's go to the restroom.” She rose from her seat and said to Orazio, “She needs to use the toilet.” He waved a hand, dismissing them.

  The nearest restroom was opposite the gate adjacent to theirs. She took Bianca inside, stopped at the first stall and said in Italian, “Do you need me to help you?”

  “No! I can do it myself!” Bianca went in the stall and shut the door.

  She waited, anxiously checking the time. She heard the toilet flush. Bianca came out of the stall, her shirt hanging over her pants.

  “Let me tuck your shirt into your pants.”

  “No! I hate this shirt.”

  The girl was impossible. If she let her keep acting like this, the girl would never respect her.

  “Stop!” she said. “Let me tuck in your shirt. People will laugh at you!”

  Bianca stuck out her lip in a pout, but allowed her to tuck in the shirt.

  “Good,” she said. “Let's go for a walk.”

  As they left the restroom she checked their gate. Catarina wasn't back yet. She turned and walked along the concourse. Bianca seemed content to burn off some energy, not talking, but not throwing a tantrum. The girl pulled her to a kiosk that sold candy and snacks and cold drinks, and pointed at the Goldfish crackers.

  “You want Goldfish crackers?” she asked. “Which kind?”

  Bianca put her tiny forefinger on the glass, pointing at a bag of regular-flavored crackers.

  She took out her wallet. Conti had given her twenty dollars, but she might need some of it for the telephone. If she could get rid of Bianca. She asked for the regular Goldfish crackers and gave the clerk the twenty-dollar bill. The clerk gave her the crackers and her change. A ten and three ones. Eight dollars for a bag of crackers! Outrageous.

  But the smile on Bianca's face when she opened the bag was almost worth it. “Thank you,” she said in English. “I love Goldfish crackers.”

  “You're welcome. Now we have to go back to our gate. Soon we will board the plane.”

  And her opportunity to call Pak Lam would be gone.

  They walked back to their gate, Bianca happily munching Goldfish crackers. But when they entered the gate area Bianca stopped, anxiously staring at Orazio. She's afraid of him, Natalie thought.

  Using a hand-held microphone, the female gate attendant announced in a cheery voice with a British accent, “We shall be boarding in five minutes. Please have your boarding passes ready.”

  She looked over at their seats. No Catarina. Her heart sank. No way could she leave Bianca alone with Orazio. Then, a miracle. Catarina came up behind her and said, “Laura, see what I bought!” Hoisting a plastic bag labeled Gucci, she said, “Beautiful shoes and so cheap. No VAT. And you bought Bianca Goldfish crackers. How nice of you.”

  But Natalie ignored her, watching a young woman with carrot-red hair approach the restroom. The letters on her sweatshirt said NYU. Maybe she was a student. Every student had a cellphone.

  “Catarina, could you watch Bianca for a minute? I need to use the restroom.” She made a face. “I just got my period.”

  Catarina made a face, commiserating with her. “Isn't that always the way? You're about to go on a big trip and get The Curse. Go ahead, I'll watch Bianca.”

  She hurried to the restroom. When she went inside, the red-haired NYU student was nowhere in sight. Assuming the girl was in one of the toilet stalls, she stood beside the sinks, mentally urging her to hurry. A toilet flushed. Moments later a dark-haired woman left one stall and came to the sinks. Natalie leaned close to the mirror and pretended to check her eyes, pulling the lower lid down.

  “Contacts?” the woman said in English. “My eyes get so bloodshot on these long flights.”

  She nodded and forced a smile. As the dark-haired woman left the restroom, boarding announcements floated through the open door. She heard another toilet flush and dug her nails into her palms. Please, let it be the red-haired student.

  The girl in the NYU sweatshirt came out of a stall and approached the sink.

  “Excuse me,” Natalie said, “I lost my cellphone and I have to call my boyfriend. Do you have a cellphone I could use?”

  The girl looked at her, aghast. “Lost your cellphone? How awful! I'd be frantic if that happened to me. All my phone contacts are on it.”

  “Can I borrow yours? I'll pay you for the call.”

  The girl waved her hand. “Hey, you've got an emergency. Where's your boyfriend?”

  “He's supposed to meet me at JFK, but he doesn't know what time my flight lands.”

  NYU Girl pulled an iPhone out of her backpack. “Here, use mine. It won't cost that much.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and punched in the number. “It won't take long.”

  After a moment, the call went through and the phone rang. Please be in your office.

  “Hello?” said a familiar voice.

  “Hello Mountain Man.” Their coded greeting.

  “Natalie! I have been so worried about you!”

  “I lost my cellphone and my credit cards and my cash,” she said, rushing to tell him what she needed. “I land at JFK tomorrow, British Airways Flight 123 at 11:15 AM.”

  “Understood. I will have someone meet you in the baggage claim and give you what you need. Have a safe journey. Call me when you can.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and ended the call.

  “Mountain Man?” the girl said, grinning at her. “He must be
a hunk.”

  Natalie gave her the iPhone. “He is and I adore him. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem,” NYU Girl chirped. “Have a good flight.”

  She dashed out of the restroom and rushed back to the gate. Only five people remained in the boarding line. No Tommy, no Catarina. But Orazio was waiting for her. Bianca stood beside him, staring at the floor. “What took you so long?” he demanded.

  Her heart pounded. He seemed suspicious. What should she say?

  Bianca came over and tugged her hand, gazing at her with fearful eyes. Ignoring Orazio, she said to Bianca in Italian, “Let's board the plane. I'll let you have the window seat so you can look out and see the ocean.”

  Bianca could be impossible at times, but clearly she was terrified of Orazio. If she could get the girl to like her, she might be her best ally.

  _____

  6:15 PM –- Dulles International Airport, Washington, D. C.

  Clint Hammer studied the passengers waiting to board the Alitalia flight to Venice. He never stood in lines. After the gate agent sent the others into the boarding tunnel, he'd stroll up to the gate and board in comfort. He had checked his suitcase, and his weapon, in the terminal. As a law-enforcement officer, he was allowed to carry a firearm, unloaded, in his checked luggage. He'd buy some ammo after he got to Venice. He might need it. He was certain the bitch who'd murdered Oliver was there. All he had to do was find her.

  Convincing his boss to send him there had been easy. An internet search for violent crime in Venice provided the perfect excuse. Last Friday—a mere six days ago!—a brutal crime had shaken the city. A diamond heist, several murders and a kidnapping. Police believed a local Mafia gang was responsible. When his boss heard this, he had immediately signed the travel voucher.

  His cellphone rang. He checked the Caller-ID and answered.

  Agitated, Jason said, “Did you board your flight yet?”

  “No. I never board until the last minute. Why?”

  “Don't get on the plane! An hour ago Natalie Brixton went through Security at Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome.”

  “Jesus!”