Get Off At Babylon
Page 21
They backed out of the restaurant, not putting away their guns until they had reached the Opel. Fulvio Callega’s bodyguards and chauffeur looked at him, waiting for his word to make their moves. He motioned for them to stay as they were. I heard the Opel drive off. By now Crow was also on his way home.
I spread my empty hands and told Fulvio Callega, “If you want to call my bluff, now’s your chance. It’s your quickest way to find out. The contract on your son goes into operation if I’m killed, too.”
We looked at each other some more, and then he nodded. “I’ll take the contract off the girl. Nobody touches her.”
I nodded back. “Then nobody will touch your boy.”
* * * *
I drove to the Ligurian coast and along it in the direction of France—and my pulse still wouldn’t come back to normal. I finally stopped at a roadside bar and had a drink. Not wine or brandy this time. A stiff shot of whiskey. Sometimes it’s the only thing.
I downed it and waited, breathing in and out. Then I raised a hand and spread the fingers. No tremble.
I got back in my car and drove home.
Chapter 34
When I parked in my carport and climbed out of the Peugeot the first ones I saw were my mother and Arlette Alfani. They were in bathing suits, climbing a ledge path to the top of the highest cliff overlooking the sea cove below the house. I stayed rooted where I was, watching them.
They reached the top, and Babette got poised to dive first. I didn’t want to watch. As a kid I’d watched her make that dive a couple times—and then refused to look again after that. Babette was still the best nonprofessional high diver I knew. But there were sharp rocks knifing out of the water below that cliff.
She went off perfectly, going down and into the water like an arrow, exactly halfway between the deadly rocks. I breathed again.
Babette surfaced and waved for Arlette to try it. Arlette looked all the way down and finally shook her head. She descended to a projection halfway down the cliff and dove from there.
I didn’t blame her. I had never managed to summon up enough nerve to dive off the top of that cliff.
Arlette surfaced, and she and Babette began swimming together across the cove. I started around the side of the house and stopped again. By the toolshed there was a big pile of old roof tiles, in excellent condition. Egon Mulhausser had kept his promise.
I walked onto the patio. Fritz and Reju were sitting there at the wicker table, sipping glasses of wine. Inside the house I could hear Crow and Nathalie discussing something. I told Fritz and Reju, “It worked. Callega agreed.”
“Good,” Reju said, and he looked at his watch and stood up. “I have to go now, to catch my plane back to Paris.”
“If you’ll wait a few minutes, I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“That’s good of you,” he said, “but I’ve already phoned for a cab to pick me up at the top of the driveway.”
“Well, thanks for your help.” I shook his hand. “And just add the cab fare to the bill you send me.”
Reju looked surprised and slightly hurt. “There won’t be a bill this time, Pierre-Ange. This one was for friendship. I thought you understood that.”
I think my mouth dropped open. He picked up his overnight bag, gave me a shy half-smile, and walked up the drive. I stared after him, still coping with my astonishment. The people you know best can surprise you the most. Crow came out of the house carrying a tray of sandwiches, followed by Nathalie with a fresh bottle of wine. “Not a bad shot,” I told Crow.
“Not bad at all,” he admitted.
Nathalie frowned at us. “Are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been up to the last couple days?”
“Target shooting,” Crow told her. “We had a bet on whether I’ve still got that old knack with a rifle, after all these years.”
“He won the bet,” I told Nathalie.
She gave us a faintly exasperated look. “Boys! American children, still playing cowboys and Indians.”
I had to agree with that. Turning to Fritz, I said, “Your man in Geneva did a good job. Thank him for me.”
Fritz nodded and went on gazing glumly at the Mediterranean horizon. He hadn’t said anything or smiled since I’d arrived.
I sat down beside him and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I didn’t much enjoy the way you kept referring to me as an ‘old man’ back there at the Imperia Restaurant,” he said heavily. “That was most disrespectful. And offensive.”
I sighed and told him, “I’m sorry, Fritz, I didn’t mean it. I was going on my nerves, and it just came out of me. I apologize—sincerely.”
He looked at me then. After a moment he patted my hand and gave me a warm smile.
“You are forgiven, my boy.”