by John Sneeden
The carrier came to a halt. Before Zane could move, two hands grabbed his arms and yanked him out. Bullets shredded the carrier like Swiss cheese.
“Let’s go,” Carmen said as she helped him to his feet.
The two sprinted out of the utility room and down the hall. Amanda and Emily waited near the exit.
“They’re coming,” Amanda said.
Boots charged down the stairs. The gunmen in the hallway must have warned the others what was happening. Zane opened the door and shoved the three outside. There could be more gunmen there, but he’d have to let Carmen deal with that. For now, he had to buy them some time.
A black-clad figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Zane shot him twice in the chest. The man grunted and stumbled backward but didn’t fall. Kevlar. Zane fired another shot, this time at the head. The man tumbled forward.
More gunmen appeared. Zane fired two more shots then rushed outside.
“This way!” Carmen waited for him at the corner of the house. Why was she going toward the lagoon? Venice was a maze of narrow pedestrian streets, tight alleys, bridges, and crisscrossing canals. In other words, it was the perfect city in which to make an escape. And yet she was going the other way.
“We’re better off taking the streets,” he said as they sprinted toward the water.
“No, we aren’t.”
Zane saw she was headed toward the dock and realized what she was trying to do. It was risky. High risk, high reward.
“I don’t know if Emily is in shape,” Carmen said as they rushed down the steps. “If we tried to run, it’s possible they’d overtake us.”
Amanda and Emily were already standing next to the first boat when they arrived at the bottom. The craft was shaped like a gondola, long and thin, with a squared-off stern like a motorboat.
“Get in!” Carmen shouted as she untied the rope attached to a piling.
Zane helped Amanda and Emily board. Carmen joined them seconds later, moving quickly to the motor.
Automatic gunfire strafed the stone blocks above. Zane crouched instinctively. “Everybody down!”
He rose just high enough to see over the edge of the promontory. Three gunmen knelt near Pauling’s residence. Zane squeezed off several shots then ducked down again. He looked toward the stern. Carmen sat next to the outboard, trying to get it started. The engine sputtered for a moment then died.
Another burst of gunfire rang out, this time closer. The gunmen seemed encouraged by their difficulty in starting the engine.
“Carmen, let’s go!” Zane shouted.
When the shots ceased, a siren sounded in the distance. The police were coming, probably by boat. The neighborhood stirred as well. People leaned out of nearby windows. Some yelled in Italian. Others pressed cell phones to their ears.
Another barrage of gunfire erupted. As long as they stayed below street level, they were fine, but it was only a matter of time before their attackers rushed the dock. And when they did, there would be little Zane could do to stop them. He turned back toward the stern. “Carmen!”
“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong.”
The explosive device. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? If nothing else, it might buy them more time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out. As he did, a gunman appeared at the ledge. Zane fired with one hand, hitting him in the chest and knocking him backward.
Turning back to the device, he twisted its head, completing the first step. He flipped the device around to get to the other end, but it fell out of his hands. As he retrieved it from the bottom of the boat, he heard boots coming toward them. There wasn’t going to be time.
Finally, the engine roared to life. “Got it,” Carmen shouted. “Fuel line was kinked.”
Instead of directing the boat out into the lagoon, which would’ve made them sitting ducks, she turned into the canal that ran alongside Pauling’s house. It would expose them briefly, but it was the right decision, one that would hopefully keep them alive.
“Stay down!” she shouted.
The gunmen arrived at the edge of the promontory and lifted their rifles. Zane pressed the button on the end of the device then tossed it toward them. It wasn’t a perfect throw, but he didn’t need it to be perfect—just close enough to suppress their attack for a few seconds.
As the grenade flew through the air, the attackers unleashed a volley of gunfire. Bullets chewed a trail through the water. In seconds, the boat and its occupants would be filled with holes. Before the rounds reached them, a fireball rose higher than the roof of Pauling’s home. Zane’s throw had been slightly off, but the old adage about horseshoes and hand grenades held true. In this case, close was good enough.
Carmen gave a brief celebratory shout then opened the throttle.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Zane yelled.
She nodded. “Sì, certamente.” Yes, of course.
“Look.” Emily pointed at something behind them.
Zane glanced back. The other boat—full of at least half a dozen gunmen—had entered the canal behind them. Zane hoped the crafts were of equal speed. If so, they’d at least be able to maintain the same distance until one of them ran out of gas.
Over the next several minutes, Carmen wove through the maze of canals, guiding the craft with deft skill. Zane couldn’t tell if she was simply trying to lose the other boat or if there was a method to her madness. A native Italian, she’d been to Venice dozens of times. Hopefully, that meant she knew the canals as well as she knew the streets. For now, he’d have to trust her instincts.
Two shots rang out behind them. One whistled overhead. Emily let out a scream, and Carmen reacted by swerving the boat back and forth. Two more shots were fired, followed by a loud thud.
“We’re hit,” Amanda said.
They were words Zane didn’t want to hear. Reluctantly, he looked back. A hole had opened along one side, and a thin stream of water poured into the bottom of the boat. In weaving, Carmen had inadvertently exposed their port side.
Zane got Amanda and Emily’s attention. “See what you can do to get the water out. Every little bit will help.”
As they worked, Zane fired a couple of shots toward their pursuers. He doubted he could do any damage at this distance, but he might at least be able to keep them down.
Carmen slowed the boat slightly and took a tight right turn. Two gondolas filled with tourists loomed directly ahead. She yanked the tiller sharply. The move helped them avoid a collision, but the wake rocked the other boats. As they passed by, one of the gondoliers cursed in Italian and lifted his middle finger.
After passing under another bridge, Carmen hung a left. A minute later, they emerged onto a large waterway. Dozens of gondolas and motorboats were scattered across the expanse. The scene was familiar. The Grand Canal. Finally, Zane knew where they were. But why had she brought them here? If anything, they were more exposed now.
He looked back at Carmen. “Where are we going?”
She nodded at something ahead but remained silent. Zane faced forward. A quarter mile away, a lighted plaza stood at an intersection with another canal. A large crowd gathered on the plaza, and Zane heard loud music.
“There is always a concert here on weekends,” Carmen shouted.
He knew what she was doing. She was going to dock at the concert, where they would disembark and melt into the crowd. Not only would it provide them with cover, but it would also deter their attackers from following. In Zane’s opinion, it was a brilliant move.
As they approached, loud sirens blared from somewhere further down the Grand Canal. The Venice police were on the way by boat. Zane glanced back at their pursuers. Unfortunately, they were still following, although they seemed to have given up firing for the moment.
Carmen pulled up to the dock and killed the engine. Zane didn’t bother tying it down. There wasn’t time. Instead, he grabbed one of the pilings to give the others time to get out.
“Go!” he shouted.
Aft
er they were safely on the dock, Carmen pointed to a set of steps leading up to the plaza. “Walk quickly, but act like you’re supposed to be here.”
The wail of sirens grew closer. Zane expected to see the police craft come around the corner at any moment. At least their pursuers wouldn’t be foolish enough to stick around. As best he could tell, everything was playing out perfectly.
Carmen led Amanda and Emily up the stairs. In seconds, they would be hidden in the crowd. Before following them up, Zane stopped and looked back toward the water. His pulse quickened. He’d expected to see the other boat turning away. Instead, it was already easing up to the dock with the gunmen waiting to stream out in pursuit. At most, they had about a half minute to hide in the crowd. Whatever these men were after, they were willing to do anything to get it.
Turning, he fled up the stairs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMILY PAULING WISHED she hadn’t made the mistake of glancing back as she neared the top of the stairs, but she did. The gunmen spilled out of the boat. They were so close she could see the malevolent intent written on their faces. For the first time ever, her life was in danger, and she realized she might not live to see another day.
“Keep moving!” Carmen yelled.
Emily didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and sprinted the rest of the way. The crowd in the plaza was even larger than it had seemed from the water. People pressed in on all sides. A few were in chairs, but most stood in groups, socializing while trance music blared through massive speakers a short distance away.
Zane was already moving to the left. “Everybody, go in different directions. If we diffuse, it will make it more difficult for them to find us. We’ll meet back at the safe house.”
“I don’t know where that is!” Emily yelled back.
“You don’t need to.” Carmen grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the right. “You’re coming with me.”
For reasons she was just beginning to understand, Emily would’ve preferred to go with Zane. Something about him made her feel safe. Maybe it was the strong hands she’d felt minutes before. Or maybe it was the chivalry she sensed in him, letting everyone else go down the laundry chute first. Then again, she knew Carmen was fully capable of protecting her. In fact, Emily had already guessed they were both spies of some kind. They probably worked for the CIA.
As they pushed through the crowd, Carmen finally released her wrist. Emily glanced back toward the dock as she ran. Two gunmen had already reached the top, their heads swiveling back and forth as they scanned the crowd. One’s eyes seemed to rest on Emily. He tapped his partner, and they both ran toward her.
“Let’s go!” Carmen shouted. “Quit looking back!”
Emily ran after her, weaving through the mass of people. She’d been foolish to stop. If she’d kept running, perhaps the men wouldn’t have seen her. Those precious few seconds might be the difference between living and dying.
Emily was surprised at how rough Carmen had become, bumping and shoving people out of the way whenever necessary. Emily could tell the Italian’s stylish looks were deceiving. She was tough as nails. If they got pinned down somewhere, it would be nice having her there for protection.
A minute later, Carmen pointed to the right. “This way.”
Two long rows of kiosks lined the edge of the plaza. Vendors sold everything from food to clothing to glass ornaments. But more importantly, the crowd was even more packed there, making it the perfect place to lose their pursuers.
A gunshot cracked in the distance. Emily flinched in response. Screams broke out everywhere, and panic swept through the crowd. Most ran to nowhere in particular, trampling others in the process. Emily leaped over a woman who’d been pushed to the ground then sprinted after Carmen. A minute later, they entered the rows of kiosks. Some of the business owners were hunkered inside their stands, not knowing whether to stay with their goods or run. Emily guessed thoughts of terrorism ran through their minds.
Carmen kept pushing forward. She seemed to be headed for the city streets, still about a hundred yards away. Another shot rang out. Pure pandemonium ensued. People fought and scratched, pushed and shoved. Despite Carmen’s prior warning, Emily slowed and glanced back a second time. At least one gunman had entered the market—a tall bald man, who seemed to have a permanent snarl etched on his face.
Her pulse racing, Emily began running again. Thankfully, she saw Carmen’s dark hair just ahead. She pushed past a group of women then came to an abrupt halt. The woman she thought was Carmen was much shorter and held the hand of a child. Emily’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. She pivoted. The crowd was now a writhing mass, making it difficult to examine faces for any length of time. A few resembled Carmen, but the real one was nowhere to be seen.
Finally, she gave up. Carmen was gone.
Remembering the tall bald man was right on her heels, she did the only thing she could think of. She dashed toward a nearby vendor tent. Its two owners cowered behind a display of necklaces and bracelets—afraid, but unwilling to abandon their livelihood. Skirting the display, Emily ran to the back of the tent and crouched behind several stacks of boxes. Now hidden, she scooted over and peered through the gap between two stacks. She’d gotten there just in time. Tall Man was at the front of the tent, standing in the exact place she’d been standing just moments before. His narrow eyes panned back and forth, confident his quarry couldn’t have gone far.
Eventually, his eyes rested on the boxes where Emily hid. His brow furrowed. Could he see her? Her blood froze. If he could see her, there would be nowhere to run. He’d be on her in seconds.
A moment later, his eyes averted, and he continued down the aisle.
Emily let out a long sigh of relief and rubbed her face. She’d been that close to being caught. She just hoped Carmen had gotten safely away.
So what now? She had no idea how to find the others. They had all scattered like the wind. Sadness swept over her. Initially, she figured it was the simple fact she’d separated from her new acquaintances. But then she realized there was more to it than that. The real reason was because she knew she’d probably never see Zane again. Even the flash of his face in her mind made her heart flutter a little bit.
What was going on? Normally, it took her weeks—if not months—for her to be attracted to someone. And while she couldn’t explain why it had happened within minutes of meeting this man, she also couldn’t deny it.
Emily willed the thoughts away. The strange feelings could be examined later. Right now, she needed to get out of here alive. She looked around the area. About a block down, a street led away from the square. If she could make it there, she’d find a shop to slip into then wait for the police to get the area under control.
Having settled on a plan, she stood. As she walked off, she heard the shuffle of feet behind her. She tried to turn, but a powerful hand covered her mouth, and the muzzle of a gun pressed into her spine.
“Got you.”
CHAPTER NINE
ZANE CROSSED TO the window and peered through the blinds. Sirens still wailed in the distance, but the area surrounding the safe house was relatively quiet. The gunfire and chaos at the plaza still had the Venetian police buzzing around the city like angry hornets. He doubted they’d made any arrests, but at least the show of force had driven their attackers to ground.
Movement on the street drew his eyes downward. A brunette strode past their building with a cell phone pressed to her ear. Her shoulder-length dark hair made Zane think of Emily, whose whereabouts were currently unknown. He hoped she was crawling into a bed at her hotel.
“Come sit down,” Carmen called from the kitchen. “I can assure you we weren’t followed.”
“Venice has always been a tough place to practice the craft. Too many corners, too many cramped streets, and too many eyes staring out windows.”
“Like yours?”
“Like mine.”
“I actually agree with you about Venice. It’s a tough place to work. But we’
d know if someone followed us. This is a quiet side of town. Strangers stick out.”
Zane abandoned the window and crossed to the island in the kitchen. Carmen hovered over the stove, preparing dinner. She’d been mostly silent since returning, a sign she was still upset at losing Emily in the crowd. According to her account, she’d searched for the girl briefly but slipped off when the police began roping off the area and conducting pat-downs. Zane assured her she’d made the right choice in leaving. If the authorities had found her with a gun, she’d be sitting in a Venetian jail now.
Zane also felt a tinge of guilt. After all, he’d fired the shots himself in an attempt to create chaos. It appeared to have worked, unless it had somehow led to Emily’s capture. For now, he held onto the belief that she was fine.
After placing a pot of water on the stove, Carmen picked up a few slices of prosciutto and tossed them into a skillet of heated olive oil. She stirred the meat briefly then added small amounts of garlic, parsley, basil, salt, and pepper. As the pungent aroma filled the room, Zane noticed an open bottle of vodka and a plate stacked with several pieces of uncooked salmon on the counter. “Is that what I think it is?”
Carmen nodded. “Si, farfalle al salmone.”
“Oh, my.”
“I remembered you and Amanda enjoyed it at my Christmas party last year,” she said distantly.
“So nice of you not to use up all the MREs. We can tell the Oracle we did our part to cut costs.”
“You’re cooking breakfast, big guy.”
Zane figured it was time to retreat. He entered the living room and sat down next to Amanda on the couch. The book she’d found in Pauling’s library was open in her lap. It was so thick he wondered if she’d ever be able to figure out what the archaeologist was trying to communicate. He guessed it would take a week or two just to read the whole thing. Hopefully, whatever clue he’d left wouldn’t be hard to find.
