by Rene Fomby
“Feelings are never stupid, Sam. Feelings are what separate us from the crazy, heartless people like William Tulley and his daughter. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past year, it’s that sometimes we just need to let go of the past. When all that shit storm happened with the FBI, and then my wife left me, I thought it was the end of the world. Especially the part about my wife. You know what’s the worst part? I never even saw it coming. She’d been screwing around on me left and right for all those years, and I loved her so much I never saw any of it. Never saw any of what now seems so painfully obvious looking in the rear-view mirror. So I guess, in the end, she did me a really huge favor. I could never have cut the cord, I could never have left her, but now that she did, and after I got past most of the heartache of those first few months, I finally came to realize that the cord tying me to her was really a chain, threatening to pull me down and drown me in all her selfishness. And with that chain finally off my shoulders, I was suddenly free to open my heart to a real love, to a real woman. Honestly, if I’d still been married when I met Andy, tomorrow would have never happened. I wouldn’t have even looked twice. But now that I did, now that I have her in my life, I’m happier than I’ve ever been, like a kid on Christmas Eve, just about to bust waiting for tomorrow to come. And then the tomorrow after that. Every moment I spend with Andy is pregnant with endless possibilities, endless tomorrows.”
Sam could see the difference in his eyes, the sparkle that hadn’t been there even before the fire back in Blairton, a long, long time ago. And she wondered whether she would ever see that very same sparkle some day in Harry Crawford’s eyes.
136
Venice - Wednesday
The voice on the phone sounded plaintive. “So there’s no way to convince you to stay?”
Sam had been over this at least a half dozen times with the Italian prime minister, but Carlo Rossi kept persisting. Which, she supposed, largely explained how he’d made it so far in life. No matter how hard things might seem, never give up trying, never take no for an answer. She set her cell phone on speaker so she could continue to bustle around her little office, collecting the last of her personal belongings to take home to Houston. Her flight was now less than a day away, and the clock was ticking.
“Carlo, you know my future lies in Texas, just the same way your future lies right here in Italy. And it’s not like I’m going away forever. I’ll be back and forth all the time.”
“I know, it’s just that—I don’t know how we could have managed to survive everything that has happened these last few months without you. And I worry about what’s coming next.”
“You’re sweet to say that. But the truth is, I’m nothing special, just a simple woman who happened to be in the right place at the right time. And now the right place for me and my daughter is back home in Houston, where hopefully Maddie can grow up nice and normal, and have some good old-fashioned fun before she finally has to take over the reins of her business empire.”
“An empire that wouldn’t even exist right now if you hadn’t moved to Italy to take charge of it all.”
“And now that’s done, and I can move on to other things, move on to just being a mommy for a little while. I think I’ve earned that right.”
Rossi’s voice softened. “You have, Samantha. If anyone has earned the right to a little me time, it would be you. I guess I’m just being a little selfish, here. I’m going to miss seeing you, miss our little talks. Tell you what. How about lunch, one last time before you leave? I can catch you up on how our talks with the Caliphate are going, now that, thanks to you, we’ve discovered we’re all just one big happy Christian family.”
Sam checked her watch. “Okay. I guess I have the time. And I’d love to hear the inside skinny on those discussions. Where and when should we meet up?”
“How about that little seafood restaurant, just off the piazza? In thirty minutes or so?”
“Noonish would be great, Carlo. See you then.”
Sam had no sooner hung up the call when her phone buzzed again. Claudia, her personal assistant.
“What’s up, Claudia? I was just about to leave for lunch.”
“Sorry, Ms. Tulley. I have a delivery boy heading your way to drop off a small suitcase for your trip. Just a few things Maddie left behind that she might want when you land in Houston.”
“A suitcase? Really, I’ve got more than enough to deal with already, just trying to get ready to leave. Can’t you just arrange to have it shipped? Or send it straight to the airport? My plane lands early tomorrow morning, and they can put it onboard then, before Maddie and I take off.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Tulley. I should have thought of that, myself. But the courier is already on his way over to you …”
“Okay, okay. But I have an appointment at noon, so …”
“That’s great. He should be at your door any moment now. Oh, and one other thing. Did you want me to send some flowers and champagne to Mr. and Mrs. Larson? To congratulate them on their marriage? Where are they staying in Barcelona, by the way?”
“Thank you, Claudia, but I took care of that myself just this morning. In fact, the hotel just texted me that everything has already been delivered to their room, so they’ll see it just as soon as they get back. They toured La Sagrada Familia this morning, and they’ll be visiting Park Güell this afternoon. Apparently, Andy is a big fan of Gaudí, so they’re hitting all the major tourist sites before they jump on their ship tomorrow morning.” Just then the doorbell rang. “I think your courier is here. If there’s nothing else, I need to get going. My lunch date is waiting.”
“Very well. Let me know if you need anything else before your trip, Ms. Tulley.”
“I will, Claudia. Thanks.”
Sam ended the call and turned to answer the front door. When she opened it, a young dark-haired man in jeans and a white T-shirt was waiting for her with a small yellow suitcase.
“Ms. Tulley? I’m supposed to deliver this to you.”
“Thank you. Do I need to sign something?”
“No, they just said to deliver it and then text them to let them know you got it.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Sam handed him a five euro tip before grabbing the suitcase and closing the door behind her. She checked the time. She still had a few minutes to kill, so she decided to see what was so important inside the suitcase that Claudia didn’t think it could be left behind. But as she tried to open the case, she found it was locked. And she didn’t have the combination.
“So typical of Claudia,” she muttered to herself, setting the case on the floor and deciding to worry about it later. She knew what this was all about—with her and Maddie returning to Texas, Claudia was now largely irrelevant, and she was worried about losing her cushy job as Sam’s assistant. So to compensate she was trying to make it look like she was indispensable all of a sudden. But the truth was, Sam was usually better off just handling everything herself. That way, things like the suitcase combination, annoying little details like that never popped up to cause her grief. And waste her time.
She grabbed her purse and keys and quickened the pace for her date with Carlo Rossi, likely the last time she would see him for a long while. Once outside in the Piazza San Marco, she locked the door behind her and turned left. She had made it almost twenty feet from the door when she was picked up and slammed violently to the ground. The last thing she saw before the world went black was her purse flying through the air. Before falling to the earth itself, several feet away.
137
Venice
Sam woke up to the sound of sirens and screaming. Rolling over on her back, she looked up at a billowing cloud of black smoke erupting from what used to be her apartment. It took her several moments to understand what had happened, where she was. People were racing everywhere, the entire piazza, usually packed with tourists at this time of year, was in complete chaos. She felt for her purse, then remembered. Behind her. She put both hands on the ground
and tried to push herself up, but the movement made her nauseous, so she eased back down, staring up at the smoke.
What had just happened? Sam struggled to think. She had just left the apartment. Something nagged at her, something important. The apartment—something had happened inside the apartment. An explosion? Yes, it had to have been an explosion. But how? Why? Then it came to her like a blinding light. The suitcase. Claudia had insisted on it. Claudia! O my God! The mole! It was Claudia all the time!
Then the second blow hit her. “She knows about Gavin’s and Andy’s plans! Their plan to visit Parc Güell! Oh my God, I have to warn them!
138
Barcelona
They stood at the bottom of yet another 100-yard-long set of stonework stairs clinging to the side of the hill. Just like the three flights of steps behind them, these stairs appeared to flatten out at the top, but Gavin was under few illusions that this one would wind up any different than the last.
“Are you kidding me?” Andy asked, wiping her brow on the sleeve of her blouse, then flinging the collected sweat onto the ground beside her. “Are you sure this is the right way to get to the park?” The strands of her short honey blonde hair that weren’t tucked into her Washington Nationals baseball cap clung wetly to the sides of her head.
Gavin checked his phone again. It was a loaner phone, provided by the hotel as an extra benefit of staying there. It came preloaded with tons of tourist info, as well as unlimited local minutes. His own phone was back in their room, locked away in the safe. And, unbeknownst to him, currently ringing away with panicked non-stop calls from Sam Tulley. “Hey, Andy, all I know is what Google tells me. It’s not like I’ve ever been here before. And I warned you at the hotel we should have grabbed a taxi.”
“Yeah, and you also said it was just a short distance away. You never told me it would be all uphill. Maybe we should have asked the desk clerk.”
“Right. Like we asked him for dinner ideas last night. And he was right, it was a real bargain, kind of a two for one, because I’m still tasting that meal this morning. And I might just see it again, as well, if we don’t hurry up and get to the top of this hill.”
“Well, that’s a lovely thought. Thank you for sharing.” Andy picked up her backpack from where she had dropped it off to one side, hoping to enjoy a few moments of air flowing across the now thoroughly soaked back of her shirt. “Okay, well, I’m looking right and then left, just like my momma taught me, and I’m not seeing any cars coming this way. And certainly no taxis. So we might as well get going, because it’s not going to get any cooler standing around here moping over your obviously regrettable life choices.”
“My choices!” Gavin thought for a second about defending himself, and pointing out once again that she was the one who had nixed the idea of taking a cab up to the park, but thought better of it as he swiped at a blinding rivulet of sweat that had found its way into his left eye. Shifting his own backpack further up on his shoulders, he threw his aching right leg up onto the first step, then, grunting, swung his left leg toward the next. Slowly, laboriously, they forced themselves forward, all conversation forgotten for the moment by the need to conserve energy.
Finally, clearing the last few steps to the top, they came to a paved roadway, and a sign that pointed toward the entrance to the park, just off to their left, a wide dirt path rising ever so slightly through a patch of trees.
Andy dropped her backpack down in front of her, exasperated. “Really? And I shaved my legs for this? A walk in the damned woods? I thought this park was supposed to be something special.”
Gavin had gone back to checking his phone. “Well, Google and the sign both agree that this is the place. But honestly, I’d expected a little more of a crowd, given the send-up this place got in the guide books. And where do you hand them the tickets?”
“And why would I ever want to waste a Euro on this? What was I thinking?” Reluctantly, Andy bent over and redonned her backpack. “Okay, buddy, we’ve got two choices here, none of them all that good. We go forward, and see what the fuss is all about, or we go backward, and stop at the first bar we come to and you buy until I say stop.”
“A bar and a tall mug of cold beer does sound pretty tempting right now, but, at this point, we’ve made it this far, so we might as well keep going. In for a pound, in for a penny. Otherwise the climb will have been for naught.”
“You make a good point, Gavin,” Andy said as she started the slow slog into the park. “But I promise you, one more freakin’ set of stairs and I’m staging a sit-in until you show up with a pitcher of cold water and a gallon of the best Temperanillo Spain has to offer. Just saying.”
“Behind you all the way,” Gavin answered, following her into the park. “Quite literally, behind you all the way.”
Just over the rise the path forked off to the left and right. Either way appeared to head down into a formal gardens of some sort, but there was no signage anywhere to indicate which direction to take.
Gavin checked his phone one more time. “Google doesn’t seem to have an opinion on which way we should head from here, but my go to choice has always been, when in doubt, hang a Louie.”
“In that case, we’ll go right,” Andy insisted, already starting off in that direction.
“Right? Why right and not left? Left’s just as good …”
“Two reasons,” Andy answered. “First, your track record vis-à-vis getting to this park has been, to be polite, abominable. Second, and more important, I say so. Good enough for you?”
“Guess it’ll have to be.”
A short distance down the path they finally came to a small turnstile, currently being manned by a single young woman, checking tickets.
“This is the entrance?” Gavin asked, looking around with a baffled expression as he handed over their preprinted tickets.
“No, this is the back entrance,” she answered with a smile. “The main entrance is down at the bottom of the hill. Hardly anyone comes this way, it’s far too difficult climbing all those stairs back there.”
Andy gave Gavin a smile that could skin a lizard as he simply shrugged and stepped through the turnstile. “Oh well, Andy. Guess it’s all downhill from this point on.”
“I’m just thinking that goes for our spanking new marriage, as well. So far you’re not selling me on all the fun and games.”
“Well, maybe not, although the spanking part does sound interesting. But hey, take a look.”
The vista below looked like some kind of naturalist’s dream of Disneyland meets Dr. Seuss.
“Okay, Gavin, I take it all back. The pictures in the guide don’t do it justice. And to think, this whole place was just supposed to be some kind of rich man’s housing development. Could you imagine living here? Wow!”
“To be fair, the guidebook says Gaudí himself vetoed any access to Parc Güell by public transportation, including the trams that were being built at the time to bring people all the way up the mountain from the city. He preferred keeping the place remote and barely accessible, like an island in the urban paradise that was Barcelona at the time.” Gavin hooked a thumb back in the direction of the stairs. “Which, from very recent personal experience, explains why this place never really took off. And it’s also more than a little ironic that, as much as Gaudí detested trams, ultimately it was a tram that got him, killing him when he accidentally stepped in front of one.”
Andy pulled out her cellphone and snapped off a few pictures, then continued on down the hill. Off to their right, strange, organically shaped pillars supported a narrow colonnade, leading to a covered walkway bounded on their left by inward-sloping, carved stone spirals. Gawking at Gaudí’s bizarre architectural flourishes, eventually they came to a large area their guidebooks identified as the marketplace, a place where farmers and merchants could ply their wares to the local residents of the park. The roof of the marketplace was made up of large concave circles, covered in small tiles and supported wherever they intersected by giant sto
ne columns. Andy was closely examining the surface of one of the columns when it unexpectedly exploded in her face.
139
Barcelona
Gavin grabbed Andy’s wrist and pulled her to safety behind the column just as another bullet whizzed past her face, missing her by inches. Tourists who had previously been casually studying the area were now running, screaming for cover in every direction. Gavin risked a quick peek around the edge of the column, but couldn’t pick out anything that even remotely looked like a shooter.
He ducked back. “Andy,” he shouted above the panicked bedlam all around him. “The way these columns are laid out, we should be able to use them for cover as we dash for the exit. Don’t bother to try and stay low, it’ll only slow you down. We’ve got to get out of here and find cover fast.”
“Gotcha. You lead the way.”
“Not going to happen. You’re my bride, I’m covering your back, putting myself between you and the shooter. Sue me later. Now go!”
Andy took off running, trying to keep the columns between her and the shooter with Gavin hot on her heels. For brief seconds they were completely exposed as they dodged between columns, but Andy kept her movements to the left and right as random as possible so the gunman hopefully couldn’t anticipate her next position.
As they broke free of the marketplace, Gavin spotted a pair of bicycles leaning against a rail running alongside the path. “Grab the red one,” he yelled, jumping on the other bike without delay. “Whoever these belong to, we need them a whole lot more right now than they do.”
Andy jumped on the red bike and took off a full speed in front of him, weaving back and forth dangerously to throw off the shooter. Bullets zinged left and right all around them, but so far they’d been lucky—none of the bullets had found their way to dead center.
