Model Under Cover--Dressed to Kill

by Carina Axelsson

  “Look,” Sebastian suddenly said as he put his hands on my shoulders, “Ugo’s gone now. Okay, so it would have been good to see what he was up to, but maybe you can ask him outright later – put him on the spot? I can find out where he’ll be from Francesca…”

  I rolled my eyes – there was no need to involve Francesca when I could just call Ugo direct to make an appointment. But perhaps Sebastian had a point. I needed to see Ugo face to face when I asked him about why he’d been at Professor Greene’s, and in fact it might be best to find out where he’d be later, and then surprise him.

  “My point is, we’re both here, so we might as well check out the Duomo now and then grab a quick bite to eat before we track him down, don’t you think? And look…” Sebastian pulled two white slips of paper out of his wallet. “I pre-booked tickets for us. And they include the rooftop, by the way. They’re valid for the whole week – repeat visits included.”

  “With an offer like that, Watson, I can’t refuse.” I took one of the tickets and we headed towards the signs pointing to the Duomo entrance. My mind was swirling with thoughts of Ugo’s strange behaviour, whether I’d see him at the party tonight, and how best to confront him about his visit to Professor Greene, all of which meant it took me a moment to notice that Sebastian had stopped at one of the street vendors for a bottle of water. I was standing on my own waiting for him when a large group of Chinese tourists appeared. Like a loud, babbling stream they surged around me on all sides. Sebastian caught my eye and was just making his way towards me when I felt myself yanked from behind. Thinking someone had bumped into me I tried to step forward – but someone or something was holding me back. I saw Sebastian suddenly wave his hands and start struggling towards me, but, too late, I realized that someone was trying to steal something out of my backpack.

  “Your wallet!” shouted Sebastian. I turned just in time to see a fast-moving, black-clad figure disappear into the crowd.

  Sebastian caught up with me. “Did they take your wallet?”

  “I don’t know – I haven’t had time to check!” But suddenly another more worrying thought came to mind. “The tarot cards!” I said as we pushed our way through the crowds after the figure.

  “You check your bag, and I’ll follow the thief,” Sebastian said as he pushed ahead.

  I kept moving, slowing only long enough to examine my backpack. The clasp on the flap that closes over the rucksack was open and the drawstring underneath was loose. Someone had definitely tried to get into it – but the tarot cards were safe! I’d slipped them into my modelling book – and it was impossible to pull the portfolio out of my rucksack without loosening the opening completely. My wallet, on the other hand, would have been easy to reach – and yet it was still there…had Sebastian alerted me just in time? Or was the thief only after the tarot cards? And if so, how did they know I had them? There was only one way to find out – we had to catch them.

  I put on a burst of speed, pushed my way through the throng and reached Sebastian just as a large group of American tourists stepped out of the Duomo. At that moment the distant black figure changed direction and headed past a sign marked “Duomo Tickets”. Maddeningly, whoever it was, was wearing sunglasses and a regular black baseball cap. Their clothes were basic and totally androgynous; it was hard to see whether we were chasing a man or a woman, but there was no way I was going to let them slip away from me – not after I let Ugo vanish so easily. Then again – maybe it was Ugo? In which case, he must have come prepared with the cap and sunglasses. So maybe he had seen me earlier? Or maybe he’d been following me all morning?

  The fleet-footed figure disappeared into the queuing crowds waiting to buy tickets. I elbowed my way through an endless line of tourists. To our right was the north side of the cathedral and to the left was a long ticket booth. We were effectively corralled into a rectangle with the lifts to the rooftop in front of us. The only way back into the square was behind us.

  The person we were following must have realized the same thing because, suddenly, up ahead, I saw a flurry of activity near the doors of the lift that had just opened.

  “It’s the thief!” I said to Sebastian. “Going up – trying to lose us. If they go up to the rooftop then they don’t have to go past us to get out!”

  I pulled out the ticket Sebastian had given me. “I’ll follow them up. Can you get your scooter? They’ll have to come down at some point.”

  “Got it. I’ll find the rooftop exit and wait there.” Sebastian turned and ran.

  I pushed my way through the crowds separating me from the rooftop lifts as aggressively as I dared – the last thing I needed was for someone to call security. But as I finally reached the head of the queue, the lift doors shut just in front of me – and for the second time this morning I was stopped in my tracks. I glanced up at the top of the cathedral. Heights aren’t my thing, but I wasn’t about to let the thief get away.

  I showed the guide my ticket and waited for the next lift, which came less than a minute later. As I got in, I could only hope that in the time it took me to get to the roof the thief wouldn’t have come back down already.

  I had to know who it was. I mean, of all the people to target on the square, why had I been chosen? I didn’t exactly look as if I was loaded with jewels and cash – and my wallet had been left untouched even though it was lying on top of the things in my rucksack. My gut was telling me this was about the tarot cards. Was I chasing one of the people who’d called Lucas about the cards? My stomach suddenly lurched. But if Lucas had insisted on client privacy for them, then surely he’d protect my identity too…?

  So, who besides Lucas knew that I had the cards? Again, very possibly Ugo. But was there someone else who knew? And if so, how had they found out?

  As soon as the lift doors opened at the top I darted forward. To my left the steeply pitched roof climbed higher still, and to my right the cathedral plummeted downwards in one sheer straight line to the square below. I was so high up I couldn’t even see the ground unless I went right up to the balustrade. This was no time to indulge my fear of heights, I thought, as I pulled back quickly. In contrast to the crowds below, up here it was quiet – peaceful even.

  As quickly as possible I followed the only designated path through a rooftop forest of spires, saints and gargoyles. Finally I was directed up a stone staircase that followed the steeply ascending roofline over the Duomo’s main entrance. I figured that as long as I held on to the railing, I’d be all right. But when I hazarded a quick glance through the spires, I felt sick – far below me the people on the square looked like coloured pinpricks. I felt my legs start to buckle. No, no, Axelle! I turned away from the view below and forced myself to climb as quickly as I could.

  The rooftop over the nave of the cathedral was surprisingly small. Some people sat on the slanting sides of the roof while a few others walked along its flat spine. A couple of guides were talking to each other at one end of the rooftop as they kept an eye on visitors. But no one was running. And there was not a black baseball cap in sight. So where had they gone? I balled my fists up with frustration. Time was ticking – I had to move.

  I turned and followed the signs that led off the nave roof and on to another staircase – the mirror image of the one I’d ascended. At that moment a flash of movement below caught my eye – a figure in black running along a different roof level far below me. I leaped down the stairs two at a time, praying I wouldn’t fall. The figure was still within sight, moving between the spires below me. But before I reached the bottom they disappeared between the cathedral’s buttresses and then vanished through a stone doorway.

  Ignoring a guide who tried to slow me down with a wave of his arm, I sprinted along the roof, past more stony gargoyles and under the gaze of the golden Madonna. I grabbed a statue for balance as I turned sharply through an arch that led to a lower level. A moment later I reached a dead end in front o
f the lifts. I slid to a stop just as the lift doors shut in front of me for the second time. Argh! I pushed the button to stop it but to no avail.

  Frantically I looked left and right. A sign next to a small arched doorway read, “Stairs to the exit”. Which way had they gone? Down the lift or the stairs? I hesitated, wondering whether or not to wait for the next lift. But if the thief was on the stairs there was a good chance I might catch them yet. Without further thought I entered the turret and started my way down the narrow, spiral staircase.

  To my relief I heard the pattering of fast-moving footsteps ahead of me. The footsteps stopped for a moment. Were they listening to see if I was following? After a quick pause they resumed. The chase was back on!

  The steep stairs were clearly the less popular option for getting down. I passed no one and heard no other footsteps behind me. As I concentrated on not slipping, I kept my ears tuned to the footsteps up ahead. Then suddenly they stopped.

  I came flying out of the stairwell, all senses alert. I was about to exit onto the square when I saw a shadow flit quickly between the enormous marble pillars to my left into the cathedral.

  The loud chords of the organ vibrated throughout the church. My heart was beating as I searched the crowds, elbowing my way past groups and interrupting photo sessions until I caught sight of the figure again, heading towards the exit. Hot on their trail, I followed them, but when I came out of the Duomo, I could see no sign of the figure. Where had they gone?

  At that moment I heard Sebastian call me. He was on his scooter to my left, my helmet in his hand. I ran over and threw myself behind him, pulling on my helmet as we sped away. I’d lost sight of the figure, but Sebastian hadn’t. He’d been waiting and watching the exit. As we zoomed in and out of the traffic I realized we were following a taxi, but within two minutes Sebastian cursed as we were forced to screech to a stop at a red light. The taxi had just made it through. Luckily we caught up with them two lights down and from then on we followed closely behind. It wasn’t easy. We were still in the old part of Milan and had to navigate our way around a maze of ancient streets.

  Finally, a monument I recognized from my guidebook loomed into sight. We raced past the grand Columns of San Lorenzo, sped to the Porta Ticinese and from there to the canals of the Navigli. We turned towards Porta Genova and then drove on past it. The taxi seemed to slow as it made a few more turns through the warren of one-way streets that ran along the canals. Then, suddenly, it stopped outside what looked like abandoned old government buildings. As we drove up the thief sprang out of the taxi and raced towards a graffiti-covered doorway. The taxi sped away just as Sebastian and I screeched to a halt. We jumped off his scooter and I quickly stashed my rucksack in the locked compartment under the seat. “The cards are probably safest locked up here,” I said as we took off on foot in the direction of the abandoned building.

  Inside the building the walls were covered in old signs and faded, curling notices with all manner of official stamps and warnings and lists. As we ran down corridors and jumped across debris, we concentrated on staying as close behind the running figure as possible. We entered a courtyard choked into darkness by a jungle of overgrown plants and trees. As we moved past the graffiti-covered façades and decaying interiors a door slammed up ahead. We burst through it and found ourselves facing a vast tarmacked courtyard surrounded by huge concrete buildings with broken windows. We ran to the first door we came to and pushed it open.

  We stood in a large, empty, hangar-like space. Sunlight filtered through the filthy, broken windows, throwing strange shadows on the floor and walls, making us turn left and right thinking we’d seen someone. Then, suddenly, we heard footsteps from behind a high pile of debris in the far corner. We took off in the direction of the noise and followed it down a dark stairwell. I noticed we lost phone connection as we descended but it was too late to stop and call for help now. Using our phones as torches we continued downwards, but we didn’t seem to be gaining on the figure. On the final step, we came to another doorway, pushed through it and found ourselves in a chamber of some kind. We stopped – the footsteps had stopped too. Had we lost them? We looked at each other questioningly. The silence was absolute. We advanced further into the darkness but still nothing moved or made a sound. Where had they gone? And that’s when we heard it: the sound of a heavy metal door shutting behind us. We turned and instinctively threw all our weight against the door, pushing and pressing up against it with every ounce of strength we could muster. We kicked and screamed until, finally, engulfed in darkness and breathing hard, we had to admit the obvious. We were trapped.

  “Only one torch on at a time, we’ve got to save our phone batteries,” Sebastian said as he reached over and turned mine off.

  “Argh!” I kicked the earth and screamed out loud. “I never even got close enough to tell if it was a man or a woman we were following!”

  “I couldn’t tell, either. But whoever it was they’re fit.”

  “And they know the city well.”

  Sebastian scanned our surroundings with his torch – not that we could see much. The air was damp and very humid. The smell of earth was overwhelming. Drops of water fell from above, and when the beam of the torch finally landed on a wall it looked slick with moisture.

  “Do you think they’re coming back for us?” Sebastian swept the beam of his torch overhead, but only revealed more blank concrete. In front of us was pure darkness.

  “No. We were led here for a reason. Someone wants something. Or wants to keep us away from something.”

  “The tarot cards?”

  “Maybe.” I took a sharp breath. “I hope the cards will be all right locked up in the scooter?”

  “Should be. We parked on a busy street.”

  “And we saw people walking past. Anyway we won’t find out anything if we keep standing here.” I took a quick breath. “Maybe there’s another opening into this place? You take that wall and I’ll take this one. We have to find a way out.”

  I tried to sound upbeat even though I was screaming inside. I was angry at my own stupidity. One thought in particular came to mind: the taxi had slowed down when we’d entered the Navigli district and that should have warned me – why would it do that in the heat of the chase…unless the occupants wanted to make sure we were following?

  Yeah, well, too late now, Axelle.

  There were walls to our sides and, behind us, the shut door. But the beam from our torch was too weak to allow us to see far ahead. At first we advanced cautiously, sure that we’d come to a wall, but it soon became clear that we were in some kind of underground passage.

  We moved forward as quickly as we could. I wanted to run but we decided it was too risky because there were wooden stakes and large pebbles on the ground – the last thing we needed was for one of us to twist an ankle or worse… At one point I tripped on a bar of some sort. I thought it must be another wooden stake, half buried. But it wasn’t wood – it was iron.

  “I think this must have been a railway for coal or supplies or something.” Sebastian swung the beam of his torch towards my feet. The bar did indeed appear to be connected to some half-buried and very narrow tracks.

  The tunnel continued with frustrating predictability. There was no ladder leading upwards; no fork in the road, not even a boarded-up door. How long was this tunnel? It seemed to go on for ever! I took a deep breath and figured we might as well use our time wisely. “Watson, did you manage to get any background checks done while I was at my castings this morning?”

  “Yes, I did. But I’d completely forgotten about all that.” His voice carried a little way along the tunnel. He quietened to a whisper. “We’ve been running non-stop since I fetched you at Amare!”

  True, I thought. This morning already seemed like a whole week ago. “Did you find any trace of Elisabetta having double-crossed or fallen out with any of the suspects on the list
?”

  “Apart from Ginevra and Elisabetta’s well-documented feud I couldn’t find a trace of a grudge or vendetta or anything. Zero. The group at Ugo’s party really do appear to be friends. From what I could see none of their paths crossed until they started in fashion, which for most of them was when they were in their late teens. Then their paths crossed all over the place. But without incident.”

  I stared into the gloom, thinking carefully. “Yet there must be something that links one or more of them to Elisabetta; something more than just fashion or their friendship with Ugo…” I sighed and brought the conversation back on track. “Ginevra’s quite fiery and strong. I could see she hated Elisabetta, but enough to want to poison her? I think she loves the plum position she has at the top of Amare’s masthead too much to risk it.”

  We walked on in silence for a moment. Then Sebastian said, “It’s funny though how Elisabetta’s career has followed Ginevra’s so closely. Both started as freelance stylists, took their styling skills up a notch by working at Falco Ventini – Elisabetta as muse and in-house stylist and Ginevra as studio director – and then from there jumped ship, as fully fledged editors, to Amare.”

  “The Milan fashion scene is small,” I said as we continued along the tunnel. “Like, I read this morning that Alessandro was also part of Falco Ventini’s inner circle before he died. And Kristine Abrams, the casting director, started out doing bookings for Falco.”

  “And,” Sebastian said, “Coco Sommerino D’Alda – remember, she was at Ugo’s party? – is a brand ambassador, although that only started once Ugo took over after Falco’s death. But Coco’s mother, Lavinia, knew Falco well. She was his in-house publicist for many years. According to what I read online, she was with Falco from the very beginning, and stayed until he died.”