by Dale Nelson
The second man went for Enzo as soon as he saw motion. He brought his left arm up under Enzo’s and grabbed him in a powerful cross-body hold. The pistol went deep into Enzo’s neck.
Aleksander hit Jack with a powerful left cross, and Jack’s head snapped around, instantly dazed.
By the time he turned his head back around, there was a pistol in his face.
“You try anything like that again, and I will kill you and will burn your fucking winery down. In fact, I’m strongly considering killing you anyway. If you want those people to see the end of the week, you will do exactly as I fucking say. Now empty your pockets slowly.”
Jack reached his hands into his pockets and removed the phone in one hand and the pistol in the other.
“Set the gun down.”
Jack did as he was ordered.
Enzo had already been disarmed.
His eyes were wide with fear.
Enzo knew full well what it was like to get shot and also knew how little value on human life these people put on it. He was right to be scared.
Aleksander kicked Jack’s gun behind him several feet and then told Jack to move.
Again, Jack did as he was ordered.
He moved through the fence and into the dirt lot that was awaiting construction.
“I’m going to explain this one time. You’re going to make a phone call for me. Do it now, or he dies.”
“Okay,” Jack said.
“Call your cop friend. The one from the bank. The one who shot my men.”
“What?”
“No questions. Call him. Tell him to meet you here now.”
Jack unlocked his phone and dialed Danzig, not Castro.
Aleksander was going to kill him, he didn’t see any way out of that, but he least he could protect Megan and the winery. And put this asshole in the ground.
Danzig picked up.
“Giovanni, I need to meet you. Right now. I’m in the vacant lot on the far side of Ponte Mazzini.”
Jack heard a scratching sound on her end and muffled voices.
“Jack, are you still there?” Danzig said.
“Giovanni, listen, this is really important. Andelić wants to meet with you, but you have to come alone. He’ll kill me and Enzo if you don’t.”
“That’s enough,” Aleksander said. “Hang up.”
Jack disconnected the phone.
Thirty
“Jack?” Danzig said again, but he was gone.
She radioed Choi in the other car. The had just turned off Via Guilia to Lungotevere dei Tebaldi, racing north along the river.
“I just spoke to Burdette. He just made a duress call. Aleksander Andelić has him. Andelić wants to speak with Inspector Castro. We have a hostage situation.”
“Roger,” was all Choi said.
Danzig called Castro and told him what was happening. “How far away are you?”
“From the bridge? Two minutes. I’m right around the corner.”
Danzig hung up. The Audis pulled to a stop half a block from the empty lot. They got out and rallied around Choi, who issued out instructions. Castro pulled up behind them as they were talking. He got out and ran over to them.
“You’re going to need to call for backup,” Danzig said when he arrived. “Local police or your guys, I’m not sure who has jurisdiction here.”
“On it,” he said.
When he’d called it in, Choi said, “This is a very dangerous and volatile situation. Our perpetrators have advanced military training and have tactical advantage. They’re behind cover, and the area appears completely sealed off.”
“It’s open on the other side,” Castro said. “There’s an opening on Via Guilia, for construction vehicles.”
“Okay, this is what we do. We’ll use the cars to block off this street. Lights and road flares. Giovanni, is it?”
“Yeah.”
“You call Burdette back and tell him you’re here. Get instructions. Katrina, you’ll stay with him. You won’t go in, though. Stay as close as you can, but out of sight. You’ll be our first responder if something goes wrong. I’m going to move around to the other side and sneak through. I’ll take them down while they’re talking to Giovanni.”
Castro called Burdette back. It was short.
“He said there’s a break in the fence. I’m to move through there.”
“Okay,” Choi said. “Let’s get into position.”
The DSS agents returned to the cars to move them into their assigned spots, one driving past the empty lot to the far side. Both cars parked perpendicular on the street, lights flashing. They broke out road flares and set them on the ground. They remained near the vehicles, listening on the radio. Choi rode with the car that was acting as the northern blockade so that he could quickly cover the block without making a sound running on the sidewalk past Andelić. He’d take a side street behind a building that made up the northern boundary of the vacant lot to get into position.
When he’d left, Danzig asked Castro if he was up for this.
“Whatever Jack is now, he was my friend once,” Castro said. “But Andelić killed two of my men today. I want to look him in the eyes before I put a bullet in his skull.”
He spoke with a coldness that frightened even her. She didn’t bother reminding him that they needed to arrest the man. Secretly, Danzig hoped Choi got there first.
Thirty-One
Jack and Enzo were both on their knees in the dirt with their hands behind their heads. Aleksander’s goon stood behind them with his pistol out. If either of them so much as twitched, he’d orbit the back of their heads.
Jack’s backpack was on the ground at Aleksander’s feet.
“I cleaned you out,” Jack said.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re broke,” Jack said.
“You’d do yourself a big favor by shutting your mouth.”
Jack ignored him.
“I went back to your place after you and Mijo worked me over. More on him in a minute. Anyway, I got into your Swiss accounts, and I transferred everything out.”
“I think not.”
“Seven-point-eight million spread across three accounts? I honestly thought you’d be worth more than that.”
“Those accounts are protected. You couldn’t possibly.”
“Aleksander, I steal shit for a living. This is kind of what I do. Basia helped me figure out your password for LockSafe, and after that it was just a matter of changing things around. She and Mijo are together, by the way. I gave them a little of your money for a head start. I thought that was very generous of you.” Jack paused a beat, then said, “Just thought you should know,” in the same kind of casual tone Aleksander had used on him a moment ago.
Jack could see him start to visibly shake with rage, at which piece of news, Jack wasn’t sure, but at least one of them landed.
Aleksander growled out, “I’ll fucking—” before Castro appeared at the gate.
“Okay, I’m here. Now, somebody want to tell me why?”
Aleksander brought his pistol up.
“Remove your weapon slowly. Grip it between your thumb and forefinger.”
Castro unholstered his pistol and held it the way he was instructed.
“Drop it.”
He did. There was a dull thud as it hit the dirt near his feet.
“Hands above your head, fingers interlaced. You know the way.”
Castro did as he was told.
“You want to tell me what this is about?” he asked.
“The bank,” Aleksander replied.
“What about it?”
“You’re going to take me there.”
“It’s a crime scene, and it’s also the middle of the night.”
“And you’re a cop. I imagine the forensics teams are still working it. We’re going there, and you’re going to get me in the vault. You do that, and Burdette and his friend live. If you don’t, I’ll kill them and then go to the bank and kill the police standing guard and
everyone inside it.”
“You want my advice?”
“Not particularly,” Aleksander said.
“You go into that vault, and the police are the least of your worries.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
That’s when the goon’s head exploded.
Aleksander’s head whipped around at the sound.
Castro dropped his arms and rushed Aleksander.
Jack and Enzo both dove for the ground.
The Serbian thug’s body slumped to the dirt behind them, his pistol fell with a dull thud in the dirt and bounced near Jack.
“US Federal Agent, drop your weapon!”
Aleksander saw Castro lunge and fired, but his aim was off because he was backpedaling. Castro took a shot in the shoulder, and it knocked him off balance. Aleksander surged forward and grabbed him, hauling him to a stand using the same cross-body grip that his man used on Enzo earlier.
“I said drop your weapon,” a voice from behind them shouted. Jack looked up from his position on the ground. Aleksander was using Castro as a human shield.
Danzig appeared through the gate, weapon drawn, announcing herself as a federal agent the way the other one did a moment ago.
“You’ve got nowhere to go, Andelić,” she said. “We’ve got the streets covered, and there will be a SWAT team here any minute.”
Aleksander was backed into an actual corner. The only thing behind him was fence, and there was an FBI agent at both diagonals.
But Aleksander was strangely, eerily calm.
“A pair of thieves, maybe not, but they’ll trade my safety for a cop’s life, I think. Put your weapons down.”
“If you kill him, you’re dead before your next breath.”
“Him? Maybe, but I can kill one of them to make a point.”
Aleksander lowered his pistol at Jack and Enzo.
He was still turned mostly toward Danzig.
Jack and Castro locked eyes for a fraction of a second, but there was the flicker of recognition, acknowledgment.
Castro’s hands went up, and his leg went back in-between Aleksander’s in one motion. He grabbed Aleksander’s gun arm with both hands, and using his back leg to pivot, he dropped his weight to the left side. Aleksander was caught off guard, and his weapon was already extended so he couldn’t bring it back in time to reflex-shoot Castro. Off balance, he rolled around the outside, caught in Castro’s awkward judo throw.
Jack grabbed his pistol off the ground and fired.
He got one clean shot that landed in Aleksander’s right ribcage.
Aleksander fell away from Castro, everything moving in stop motion, like watching through the viewfinder of a camera. Two more shots echoed out, but Jack didn’t know where they came from. Aleksander’s body jerked violently.
Aleksander Andelić fell.
Before Jack knew what was happening, there were shouts for him to freeze. He dropped the pistol, and rough hands grabbed him, yanked his arms behind his back and he was handcuffed.
There were shouts indicating all clear.
Danzig said Andelić was still alive but would need medical attention immediately.
Jack was brought, none-too-gently, to a sitting position, and a male FBI agent got in his face, asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing. Was he trying to get himself or someone killed?
“He threatened people I love. Innocent people.”
Jack left it at that.
Thirty-Two
Losing a tail coming out of Leonardo DaVinci Airport wasn’t the easiest thing. There were only a few direct routes into Rome proper, and they all involved some combination of state roads or Autostrada. It was even harder at night because there were so few cars on the road. That also worked in their favor, though, because the tail was easier to spot.
Rusty knew from experience that when you spotted a tail, it usually meant one of two things. Either they only had one car, meaning they were probably inexperienced, and you spotted them because of it. Or they wanted you to know you were being followed.
Rusty believed it was the latter.
The route he chose was not the fastest one. Instead, this involved several turns and road changes. This gave him the option to introduce complexity into the pursuit, which was the last thing a follow car wanted. He took the northbound A90 Autostrada onto a smaller state road just after Casetta Mattei and the Riserva Naturale. Rusty put the blinker on and slowed, pulling onto the offramp and told Vito to hold on. When he saw the other driver was committed, he yanked the wheel to the left and pulled the Maserati back onto A90 and accelerated. The follow car had about two car lengths distance, which was plenty of time for them to get back onto the Autostrada, but it confirmed to Rusty that they were being followed and the guys knew what they were doing.
Rusty gassed the accelerator. He didn’t know what they were driving, but he could tell from the headlights that it wasn’t anything special. That was something Jack had taught him. Europeans also tended not to modify their cars the way Americans did. The chances of them keeping pace with a Quattroporte GTS weren’t good. The car’s top speed was just under two hundred miles an hour, and its engine was an eight-cylinder built by Ferrari.
Rusty barreled down the Autostrada, burning a few miles before coming to a cloverleaf that more resembled a pile of discarded yarn than an offramp. He braked at the last moment and veered onto the SS1 and then accelerated again. Vito screeched and shouted for him to be careful.
“I’ve been through the FBI’s combat driving school,” he said, giving the old man a sidelong glance and saying nothing else.
Rusty’s eyes went to the rearview. He saw distant headlights turning onto SS1. There wasn’t anywhere to lose them, but he could put distance between them. Distance gave them options.
He dropped off the SS1 and onto Via Aurelia Antica, which was more of a two-lane highway. Approaching Rome’s suburbs would have more traffic than the outlying roads. Instead of continuing on to Rome, Rusty pulled off into the city of La Pisana. From there, he drove slowly through the cramped and dark streets until he found a small parking lot outside a closed market. He pulled in, turned the car around to face the street, and turned off the lights.
When they were stopped, he looked down at his phone. Nothing new from Jack.
“We’ll wait here a few minutes,” he said.
“Who do you think that was?” Vito asked.
Rusty shook his head. “I don’t know. Andelić’s people or the mafia.”
“You don’t think it was the police?”
“The police have no idea what happened. They wouldn’t know what to look for. My money is on Andelić. I think the girl tipped him after we left.”
“Guilia?” Vito said.
Rusty only nodded in response.
“She’s bad news. I told Jack back then she was dangerous.”
“Well, without her we wouldn’t have those,” Rusty said, indicating to the back seat.
Rusty pulled up the GPS on the car and found an alternate route into Rome that would have them leaving La Pisana from the western side and then turning back north toward Rome.
“Put that thing away,” Vito said, waving a dismissive hand. “I know this city better than the computer does.”
Rusty shrugged and exited out of the GPS screen and smirked when Vito guided them on essentially the same path out of La Pisana that the nav suggested. They headed west through the sleepy and dark city, eventually finding a divided road north toward Rome. They passed through about ten minutes of countryside, a flat, grassy plain interspersed with leafy trees before hitting Rome’s western fringes. From there, Vito directed Rusty to the Via Gregorio VII. They were in the city proper now, still alive despite the late hour. There was no sign of their pursuer.
Vito pointed to the left side of the car and said nonchalantly, “Vatican. Always looks pretty at night.”
Rusty looked over and saw the illuminated circular columns that enveloped St. Peter’s Square like the arms of god.
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“We haven’t heard from Jack,” Rusty said, “so I’d like to stop by the hotel first before we find our place. Just want to make sure everything is okay.”
“That’s fine,” Vito said. He pointed straight ahead. “This road will take us right by there.”
Rusty drove through a traffic circle and continued down the street, which split after the traffic circle with the lanes falling on either side of a tunnel entrance. The road was slightly elevated, and as they descended to merge with the tunnel traffic, Rusty could see the Tiber, a black ribbon across the glowing city. It was too dark to make out the water, but Rusty could see the bridge stretching across it. He slowed to a stop, the third car in a line at a red light. The other two appeared to be taxis.
Rusty saw Vito shifting around in his seat in his peripheral vision but wasn’t paying much attention to him. His mind was on Jack and the implications of the police letting Aleksander slip away. He was also thinking through their escape to Switzerland. So, Rusty was taken off guard when he heard Vito say, “Sorry, kid.”
Which he understood, too late, was the point.
Vito shot him twice with a small caliber pistol.
The first round penetrated his right shoulder, a line of pure fire lancing through his body. The second, slightly lower, due to the recoil shot through the right side of his chest. Rusty screamed out in surprise and pain. He reached with his left hand for the pistol holstered on his right side, but it was such an awkward angle. He couldn’t pull the weapon out. Not in time.
Vito reached into the back seat, grabbed the black satchel, and then opened his door.
Rusty almost had his fingers around the pistol.
As he was getting out, Vito said, “I’m sorry, kid.” He looked away, shamefaced. “Tell Jack … tell Jack I hope he understands.”
Vito Verrazano took the diamonds and disappeared into the night.
Thirty-Three
Jack had mixed feelings when he learned Aleksander would survive.
