Once they were through, he pushed the gate closed and hung the chain to make it look like it was locked. The stairs continued down into darkness. He took a penlight out of his pocket as well as one of the big plastic zip ties they’d issued the men working security at the villa, for use as handcuffs.
She spoke for the first time. “I haven’t resisted you, Dig. You said you just wanted to talk.”
“Put your hands out in front of you.”
She did as she was told, and that worried him. She was cooperating too much. He knew her well enough to know she was working on some kind of plan.
“Diggory, I don’t believe you’ll hurt me. Not me. Someone who once thought she loved you.”
The Palazzo Magistral
Via Condotti, Rome
April 25, 2014
He’d waited at the Metro entrance until 5:00 p.m. growing more worried with every minute that passed. When he couldn’t stand the wait any longer, he had returned to the Via Condotti, and now he was standing in the doorway to the Max Mara store across the street from the entrance to the palace courtyard. At the street level there were retail shops, but looking at the second and third stories and the rows of shuttered windows gave him an idea of how big the place was. A small stone balcony over the portico was decorated with a ceramic emblem of the Maltese cross, while three flagpoles flew the flag of the Hospitallers with the white cross on the red field. More importantly, two CCTV cameras were mounted on the stone walls, one on either side of the door.
Why had he let her go in alone? His imagination was conjuring up all sorts of scenarios of what might have happened to her. This would be so much worse, even, than Theo’s beating that had left him blind.
Cole pulled his baseball cap down low over his eyes, checked for traffic, and crossed the street. He’d only got a few feet through the doorway when the concierge stepped out of his little office and told him to halt.
“I’m looking for my girlfriend. She’s in the library.”
“No, library closed.”
“But she’s still in there.” Cole started for the door again.
The concierge grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. The little guy was stronger than he looked.
“Signore, no. Library is closed.”
“But I know she’s still in there.”
The guy wouldn’t let go of his arm.
Cole saw a tiny woman come out a door, several bags hanging over her arms, her glasses on top of her head. Her car keys dangled from her hand.
The concierge dragged Cole to the entrance. He pointed to the street with one hand while his other hand administered a firm push.
When Cole turned around on the sidewalk, he saw that the woman was now approaching the concierge. She was holding up a black shopping bag. Cole pulled out his cell phone and pushed a button to dial Riley’s number. A few seconds later, he heard a phone start to ring.
When the concierge turned and saw Cole approaching, his cheeks puffed out and he started toward Cole.
“Signora,” Cole said, “do you speak English?”
The tiny woman said, “Yes.”
The concierge grabbed Cole’s arm again.
“Please, answer the phone in that bag.”
The woman pulled out Riley’s phone and tapped on the screen. She held it to her ear.
Cole hit the speaker button on his own phone. The woman’s voice echoed in the courtyard from his phone.
“Hello?”
“That phone belongs to my girlfriend,” he said. On his own phone he tapped the screen a couple of times to pull up a photo of Riley. He held out the phone to the woman. “This is a photo of her, but today she wears her hair different. Have you seen her?”
The tiny woman said something to the concierge that sounded like she was scolding him. He let go of Cole’s arm. The woman pulled down her glasses and balanced them on her face. Little lines appeared in her forehead as she examined the photo.
“Yes, I think that is the young woman who was in the library this afternoon. She looks quite a bit different now, but yes. That is her.”
“And that’s her bag you’re holding.”
The woman looked up from the phone screen and looked confused for a moment. Then she said, “Oh, yes, this. I found this bag when I went to the ladies’ room after closing the library. Someone had left it on a chair in there. I was bringing it out here to Signor Giancolo in case the owner returned.”
Cole said, “Somehow I must have missed her when she left. We were supposed to meet, but it seems she has gone back to our hotel. I’m sure she would be very happy if I returned to the hotel with her bag.”
The librarian turned and spoke in Italian to the concierge. He argued with her, throwing several stern glances in Cole’s direction, but finally shook his head and stepped away.
“I believe I have convinced Signor Giancolo that I can give you the bag. Tell your lady friend I am sorry about the Joseph Roux atlas of sea charts. It should be returning in two weeks.”
“Returning?”
“Yes, as I explained to the young lady before she left, it is out on interlibrary loan at the moment.”
“Oh,” Cole said. Please tell me it hasn’t gone to Tasmania or somewhere like that. “What library?”
“The Vatican.”
In the Catacombs
Via Tiburtina, Rome
April 25, 2014
“Be quiet,” he said.
Diggory cinched the plastic zip tie so tight around her wrists, it cut into her skin. Her hands were clasped together in front of her waist, her arms straight. It had taken significant strength to force her wrists apart as he’d yanked on the end of the plastic strap, but she needed to make certain he didn’t tie her too far up the arms if she was going to work her way out of this mess.
Ever since she’d awakened in the trunk of that black car, she’d been trying to come up with a plan. It was downright embarrassing how easily he had taken her. She remembered assuring Cole that she would be fine by herself in the Magistral Palace. And now look at her.
“Your burns look worse than mine,” she said.
He stepped away from her and turned. She remembered how vain he had always been. Looked like that hadn’t changed, even with the body he had today. She’d noticed he’d been trying to keep her always on the side with a view of the unscarred half of his face.
“Is it only your face?”
He didn’t answer. He rummaged in the bag he carried, ignoring her.
All those years ago in Lima, when she had defied the rules and started an affair with the CIA liaison at the embassy, she had been so young. And he had seemed so gallant and charming at first. When she’d spent nights at his apartment in town, she’d loved watching him shave in the mornings. The way he stroked the razor across his own cheek was like a caress.
“Get moving.”
They descended the equivalent of two flights of stairs. The lower they went, the more damp the air grew. At the bottom of the stairs, they entered a small, round room—at least, that was what it looked like in the dim light of Dig’s flashlight. Riley shivered. The temperature was at least ten degrees colder than it had been out in the sunlight. Several dark shadows around the perimeter appeared to be doorways. He pointed the beam into the tunnel closest to them.
“That way.”
When they entered the tunnel, she realized this was a burial place. That explained the earthy odor of something organic now rotted away. Human-sized slots in the walls were where they had placed the dead.
She heard the uneven rhythm of his footsteps behind her.
“In about a hundred feet there’s a chamber off to the left,” he said. “We’ll stop there.”
The material was stone, but it appeared soft, almost more like mud. They wouldn’t have needed fancy tools to cut this rock. The builders of this place must have removed the rock and dirt and passed it to others behind them. The tunnel was not wide enough for two men to walk side by side. No wonder the niches for the bodies were
so narrow. She counted five rows from ceiling to floor. Each slot was only sixteen to twenty inches high and a little over five feet long. The labor that must have gone into creating this place was staggering.
“In here,” Diggory said.
An arched opening to her left led into another round room. On the walls were faded mosaic murals. The murals depicted a scene of some sort, but the colors were so washed out that Riley could make out only a picture of a fish here, some Roman-looking writing there.
“Who built all this?” Riley asked.
“Early Christians.”
Riley walked to the wall, reached up with her bound hands, and touched the fish. It was a simple drawing, more like a symbol or a hieroglyphic. “Amazing.”
“We’re not here as tourists.”
When she turned around, she saw there was a camp chair and an air mattress just inside the door. A shopping bag lay on the air mattress. A plastic gallon jug of water rested on the floor next to the mattress. She hadn’t seen that when they first stepped into the chamber. Dig bent down and picked up a piece of chain. She couldn’t see the other end of it, as he wasn’t pointing the flashlight that way.
“You’re leaving me here?”
“There are things I have to take care of. We’ll talk when I get back.”
He picked up the bag and pulled out another plastic zip tie.
She’d been waiting, hoping to see an opportunity to make a move, to get the better of him. Now it was too late. She would have to try, though.
He bent at her feet and set the small flashlight on the ground. He was juggling things, trying to hold on to the gun while he fitted the end of the zip tie through a link of chain. He was starting to wrap the zip tie around her ankle when Riley brought her hands down hard on the back of his neck. He fell onto his side, and the gun clattered across the stone floor. She jumped on top of him, pummeling him with her bound hands. The flashlight rolled away, lighting the frescoes but leaving Dig and Riley in darkness.
The gun had vanished somewhere. The sound bounced off the walls, and she couldn’t tell which way the gun had gone. He’d tucked into a fetal position on his side, his arms protecting his head and throat. She wanted to use her bound hands to strangle him, but she couldn’t reach around him. He was half again as big as she was. Even with his injuries now, he remained so strong.
His fist slammed into her left cheek, and her head snapped back. He pushed her off, and she fell to the stone floor, landing on her old shoulder injury. The hot flash of pain sapped the strength from her limbs. She wanted to curl into a ball on the floor.
Dig clambered to his feet and retrieved the flashlight and the gun. It had been there within her reach all along. Its light played across the walls. The fish looked like it was dancing. She felt him cinch the zip tie tight around her ankle, and she struggled into a sitting position.
“How did you do it?”
He picked up the bag and turned the flashlight on her, blinding her.
“One punch was all it took, Riley.”
She held an arm up, trying to shield her eyes. “No, I mean down in Guadeloupe.”
“Oh, that.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
He made a noise that sounded like Ha! She thought he’d meant it as a laugh, but it caught in his throat like a cry. “I am dead, Riley.” He walked over to her, yanked off the wig, and threw it into the corner. “Thanks to you.” He turned and walked out of the chamber, his limp now more pronounced.
Over his shoulder, he said, “And when I come back, I shall return the favor.”
She yanked on the chain as she heard his footsteps retreating down the tunnel. The other end was firmly anchored. It would not budge. The light from the retreating flashlight dimmed until she saw nothing but absolute darkness.
On the Street
Via Tiburtina, Rome
April 25, 2014
Virgil stood leaning against a building at the corner of the small park, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He was watching the black Bentley parked several cars away. The car was from the fleet kept in the large garage up on the hill. When Virgil had taken over the security at the Villa del Priorato di Malta, he made a number of changes to bring it into the twenty-first century. Among those changes, he had fitted out all the cars in the fleet with a tracking system, so he could keep an eye on his men when they went off in the Order’s $300,000 vehicles.
As soon as he’d closed his laptop after that Skype call, he’d checked on the location of the vehicle Priest had taken. Virgil was surprised to see the car on the Via Tiburtina in the northeast quarter, well out of the city. He’d put Hawk in charge and told him he had to go off the grounds for an hour or so. He collected his kit bag, checked to make certain Priest’s vehicle still had not moved, then took the keys to the vehicle that would get him there the fastest: the Bugatti Vitesse.
Virgil turned his head to check up the street. When he turned back around, it was as though Priest had suddenly appeared in the middle of the park. He pushed off from the building and started down the street to intercept him. The man was almost to the car when Virgil tapped him on the shoulder.
Priest spun around. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled off his teeth like those of a cornered animal.
“What are you doing out here, Priest?”
“You’re following me?”
“You’re driving one of the Order’s very fine automobiles. You’re a fool if you don’t think we’d keep tabs on you. But you didn’t answer my question.”
Priest’s eyes shifted in a quick, furtive glance at the park. “I had to run an errand in this neighborhood.”
“What kind of errand?”
“It’s personal.”
“Show me.”
His eyes darted to the park again.
Virgil grabbed his arm and pushed him forward, controlling the desire to kill the man then and there. He needed to know what Priest was up to first. “Let’s go. You walk ahead. I’ll follow you.”
They entered the park, and Priest seemed to hesitate. Then, as though he had made a decision, he started walking toward a six-foot hedge in the center of the park. They turned a corner to the back side of the hedge, and that was where Priest made his move.
Virgil figured he would do it there. It was the place with the best cover. When Priest started to swing around, Virgil batted his gun hand aside, and the weapon flew into the hedge. The two men faced each other crouched over, their hands out like wrestlers. Both men had trained to fight using a combination of martial arts, wrestling, and boxing. Virgil attacked first with a kick to the head, but Priest blocked it, then landed a punch to Virgil’s ribs. Virgil was surprised at the strength of the blow. The man might have strength, but his weakness was obvious. Virgil kicked hard at the injured side of Priest’s body, and the man went down with a strangled cry.
He lay in the dirt, dazed. Virgil bent down and sighted the gun where it had slid under the hedge. He reached in and retrieved it.
“Stand up, asshole.”
Priest didn’t move.
Virgil walked over and kicked him in the ribs, not hard enough to break a bone, but certainly hard enough to get his attention.
“I said stand up.”
The man slowly got to his feet. His hair hung around his filthy face and a string of drool hung from the corner of his open mouth. He wouldn’t look Virgil in the eye.
“What is that down there?”
“Catacombs.”
“Like for dead people?”
“Used to be.”
“What have you got hidden away down there?”
Priest said nothing.
“Go pick up your bag and bring it to me.”
The man grabbed the bag with his good arm and held it out. Inside, Virgil found a flashlight, headlamp, extra batteries, bolt cutters, zip ties, and a length of rope. Whatever had happened today, Priest had been preparing for it.
Virgil pointed to the stairs. “What do you say we go down and see fo
r ourselves?” He handed Priest the flashlight. “After you.” Virgil slung the bag over his shoulder, then pulled the headlamp’s elastic strap onto his own head.
Priest started down the stairs. When he got to a locked gate, he pulled on the chain and it fell free. He pushed open the gate. As they continued downward, both men turned on their lights.
At the bottom of the stairs they came to a small, round room. There were four tunnels leading off it in different directions. The place smelled like an underground prison Virgil had once visited in Nicaragua.
“Which way from here?” he asked.
Priest said nothing, but in the distance Virgil heard a voice begin hollering, “Hello. Is somebody there? Hey!” It was a woman’s voice.
Virgil pointed to the tunnel on the left. “Let’s go.”
It was tight quarters in the tunnel. Virgil wondered if the man was going to make a run for it. He could always shoot him if he did. What was he keeping a woman prisoner for? The guy was way more fucked up than Virgil had reckoned.
Another room opened up on their left. Priest stepped through the opening and his flashlight lit up the room.
Virgil stepped in next. When he saw the girl, he said, “Oh shit.”
She said, “You were in that helicopter.”
The girl was wearing overalls and heavy black boots. He almost had not recognized her.
Virgil turned to Priest. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Priest still wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“He said he was going to come back and kill me,” the woman said.
“Shut up,” Virgil said, never taking his eyes off Priest. “Where did you find her?”
“She was at the palace. In the library.”
Virgil glanced at the woman. She was watching him with her chin held high.
He reached into the black canvas bag and took out one of the big plastic zip ties. He inserted the plastic end through the pawl and zipped it a couple of clicks, forming a large circle. Virgil held it out toward Priest. “Put your hands through here.”
Knight's Cross (The Shipwreck Adventures Book 3) Page 29
