The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9

by Jonas Saul

  “Get in the front and drive this thing out of here,” he said as he dropped Sarah onto the back bumper. He picked her legs up and tossed them in. She curled into a ball and lay still.

  He held the weapon on the kid until he sat in the front seat and closed the door. Then Frank jumped in the back and closed both doors behind him.

  “Drive!” he yelled.

  The kid slumped in his seat and drove.

  “What happened to her?” the kid asked.

  “Shut up and drive. Faster!”

  The kid dropped the accelerator, nearly knocking Frank off his feet. He stepped over Sarah’s inert form and moved toward the front.

  The men surrounding the hospital aimed their weapons at the escaping vehicle, but no one fired. They couldn’t shoot an ambulance with an innocent paramedic driving, even if it held the man they wanted.

  Through the back window he saw officers running for their vehicles.

  This wouldn’t work long-term. He had to think of something else.

  He looked back at Sarah. There was no leg wound like Capelli’s email had said. It had been a trap. Sarah had baited him.

  But now the tables had turned. She was a child playing around in the big world. That would cost her.

  She moved on the floor, not completely out yet.

  “Where am I going?” the kid asked.

  “Out of Umbertide. Go for the highway. Put on the sirens. Drive faster. Don’t stop for anything or I will turn your brains to mush.” He thrust the gun in front of the kid’s face.

  “O-O-kay,” the kid stuttered.

  Frank smelled urine. The kid had pissed himself.

  Good. He better be scared.

  When he turned around, Sarah was on her feet, a feral expression on her face. Behind her, through the back windows, the police cars were out of sight.

  They were alone, already turning onto the E45.

  He smiled at Sarah and brought his weapon around toward her.

  Then the driver slammed on the brakes.

  Chapter 57

  The fogginess made her want to sleep. Comfort came with curling up. Whatever it was Frank had injected felt so good.

  Frank De Luca.

  Her mind screamed his name.

  Aaron.

  This name shouted through her consciousness.

  Her right hand numbed, then jerked. Her leg jerked.

  Not now, Vivian. Sleepy time.

  Her body jerked so hard again, her ribs ached. Someone yelled for the driver to go faster. The vehicle lurched forward. She curled into the fetal position and waited for sleep.

  But her body jerked again.

  What?

  The ground moved under her. She slid sideways and smacked the wall. Then the driver took another corner too fast. She wanted to yell at him to slow down.

  A man said something about going even faster.

  She fought to open her eyes.

  Her body spasmed. Her limbs seized, became rigid, relaxed, then seized again.

  Let me go. I’m too tired.

  Her legs kicked out, banged something, then a full-body seizure struck. Her adrenaline spiked. The vehicle was on a long corner of some kind, like a highway ramp. She was jammed into a corner and couldn’t move.

  At the end of the ramp, she rolled into the center of the floor and the seizure ended.

  She opened her eyes. An ambulance.

  Frank De Luca.

  With great effort, she rolled over and got to her knees. Wavering for a moment, she smacked her ribs where they had broken the month before.

  A dull pain shot through them. It was like she had taken twenty Advil. Yesterday she would have shouted, but today the pain was enough to get her to her feet.

  Frank turned around. Their eyes met.

  He smiled and aimed his gun at her.

  Then the driver slammed on the brakes and Sarah shot forward. She hit Frank so hard with all her 135 pounds of her trim muscled weight, they propelled between the front seats and into the dash, Frank’s back taking most of the impact.

  Sarah was energized, on fire. Nothing seemed to hurt, but at the same time she felt weak, on the verge of sleep.

  They wrestled, grappling for the gun. The vehicle came to a complete stop and the driver jumped out, the interior light flickering on, driver’s side door wide open.

  Her weakness lost the battle.

  Frank rolled her off him, favoring an injured back.

  “Help,” the driver yelled. It sounded like he was talking to someone. Another car door slammed nearby.

  Get in here and help me.

  She had landed upside down in the passenger seat, her shoulder blades on the floor mat, feet against the backrest of the seat. In her awkward position and muscle fatigue, she was paralyzed.

  Frank managed to pull himself up into the driver’s seat, wincing at the pain in his back. He shouted something about piss.

  Instead of putting the ambulance back on the highway, he cocked his weapon and aimed at her.

  “You were supposed to be in the hospital with a bullet wound to the leg,” he said.

  She kicked her feet and tried to right herself, but didn’t have the strength. Her feet moved as if under water.

  “Here’s your bullet wound.”

  The gun roared. She felt the impact but not much else. Blood formed in a circle on her jeans where a small black hole opened mid-thigh. She panicked, her mind screaming, eyes wide, but she still couldn’t move.

  “You fucking bitch,” Frank shouted. “How the hell did you think you could beat me?”

  She chuckled at the insanity of the moment and the position she found herself in. The pain had not reached her consciousness yet.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”

  She gave the best effort she could to right herself again, but nothing worked. “Dammit. You think you could help me up here? I still need to kill you.”

  “I will give you this.” He winced again as he looked in the rearview mirror. “You are one of the strangest, toughest opponents I have ever met.”

  “This leg wound will heal. I’ve been shot before.” She met his gaze. “But you can’t heal fucked. That’s you.”

  “Goodbye, Sarah. Say hey to the big guy when you get there.”

  He lined up the gun with her eyes. She could see down the small hole of the barrel.

  The weapon firing in the cab of the ambulance was deafening.

  Chapter 58

  Three days later …

  Parkman sipped a much needed coffee at Umbertide’s police headquarters. He had barely slept since ‘the night of the arrests’ as the media had dubbed it.

  Antonio Delarusso of the State Police was arrested in his home without incident. The Minister of Finance, Silvio Capelli was arrested in his hotel room in Umbertide, along with two of his aides. Charges stemmed from their involvement with Sam ‘The Dealer’ Marconi, a known hit man and Cosa Nostra associate, in addition to other charges relating to the transfer of funds from a large GMO corporation that had been promised they would be allowed to operate in Italy. They had already been growing GMO crops that were now slated for incineration.

  But none of that was important to Parkman. What was important to him was finding Sarah and the man everyone referred to as Frank De Luca, an alias. He had since learned De Luca’s real name was Günter Sørensen, a Norwegian-born international assassin wanted by police agencies around the world.

  “Tell me again,” Parkman said. “What did the ambulance driver say happened?”

  “He was ordered at gunpoint to drive,” Kierian replied. “When he got on the highway, he jammed on the brakes and jumped out of the ambulance. Then he ran, screaming for help. Officers arrived two to three minutes later and secured the scene.”

  “This driver is claiming he didn’t see anything else?”

  Kierian shook his head and looked down at the table. “Nothing. He got drilled by one of their best interrogators. They believe that whatever happened in the ambu
lance was out of his sight. He has no idea what happened when he was running along the highway, looking for help.”

  “Tonight’s his first day back on the job?”

  Kierian nodded.

  Parkman took the last sip of his coffee and set the empty cup on the table.

  “Damn it,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s just not like Sarah.”

  Parkman pulled a toothpick out of his breast pocket and slipped it between his lips, spinning it back and forth. He had found some at a grocery store in town after the police had released him from his holding cell.

  “She’s been gone for three days, Parkman. No trace. They found a lot of blood on the passenger seat of the ambulance and matched it to Sarah’s.”

  “They also found a substantial quantity of blood from another source that has yet to be identified.”

  Kierian nodded. “I know. But we’re talking about Sarah’s disappearance. Since you know her better than anybody, and you feel this is unlike her, where would she go? Do you think she’s in hiding until this case is fully investigated so she can be absolved of any charges?”

  “Maybe she’s waiting for Aaron to be released,” Parkman said as he glared at Kierian.

  “You know as well as I do that Aaron was released two days ago and all charges erased from his record. As an apology, the Toronto Police Services offered him the contract of training their new officers in hand-to-hand combat for the next two years. That’s a highly coveted contract.”

  “Remind me what Aaron’s answer was.”

  “He turned it down.”

  “I’m surprised after the way they treated him that he didn’t just show them what hand-to-hand combat was on the spot.”

  “You know, Parkman, your sarcasm is so thick I can smell it.”

  “Kierian, I’m angry. You misled Sarah, brought her here under false pretenses, faked your own death, had her boyfriend put in jail on murder charges, and then probably got her killed as she tangled with an international assassin and you’re bothered by my sarcasm. You’re the trained professional. You should’ve been the one out there fighting Günter, not Sarah.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  They glared at each other.

  “I have to live with this each and every day,” Kierian added.

  “At least you get to live. We can’t say that about Sarah.”

  “Does Sarah know anyone in Umbertide? How about Italy? When you two came here a few years ago, did she make any friends? Someone who would harbor her?”

  Parkman twiddled with the toothpick and shook his head. “No one. We weren’t here long enough to make friends. We came in by train, met up with an assault team and left with them. We stayed one night in Umbertide.”

  “Then I have nothing and neither do the Italian authorities. Sarah didn’t have a passport. She didn’t cross international borders. That leaves us with two options. One, she’s dead—”

  Parkman flinched.

  “—or she’s alive,” Kierian continued, “and hiding somewhere in the Euro zone.”

  “But she wouldn’t hide out.” Parkman pushed his chair back and got up to pace. “Sarah doesn’t hide. She’s afraid of nothing and no one. She wouldn’t hide to wait out this investigation. Worse has happened to her. She would want her side heard.”

  “Then offer the authorities a plausible reason for her blood in the ambulance and disappearance.”

  “I can’t.” He looked at Kierian with pleading eyes. “I can’t because,” his voice cracked, “I fear the worst.” He sat down. “And I’m the one who gets to tell her parents all this shit.”

  “I can come with you.”

  Parkman’s head shot up fast. “It’s better you don’t.”

  Kierian nodded. “So that’s it?”

  “That’s it. Until she surfaces, we’re done here.”

  “When does your flight leave?” Kierian asked.

  Parkman checked email on his cell phone.

  “Eleven tomorrow morning.”

  “Where are you staying tonight?”

  “Rome.”

  “Me too.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “I understand they agreed to keep us up to date if anything new develops,” Kierian said.

  Parkman nodded.

  “You look deeply upset,” Kierian said.

  Parkman met his gaze, his eyes watering. “I’ve let Sarah down.”

  “You were being held prisoner by Delarusso. What could you do?”

  “The circumstances don’t matter. I was here. I came to help. Sarah’s gone, and we know nothing. Now I’m leaving. However you add it up, I failed her.”

  Kierian reached across the table to touch Parkman’s hand, but Parkman pulled away.

  “Don’t …”

  Kierian got up and walked to the door.

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  He opened the door and left.

  Parkman put his forehead on the metal table and wept.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m so sorry.”

  Chapter 59

  Aaron closed the dojo at seven in the evening and headed for the restaurant. Three of his martial arts teachers had planned a birthday dinner for him at a steakhouse called The Keg.

  Since Sarah disappeared in Italy, they had been so supportive, always trying to get him out, buy him a drink, come over, watch a movie or go golfing. Anything to get him out of the apartment. But Aaron wanted to stay near the phone.

  Parkman called with routine updates as he stayed in touch with that asshole Kierian. But there had been nothing new in two months. No sign of Sarah, alive or dead.

  The bad news was there had been no sign of Günter Sørensen, aka Frank De Luca, either. The idea that Sarah was holding him somewhere wasn’t popular. It was more probable that he did something to Sarah and disappeared.

  But nothing had been found or proven to enable a single scenario that the authorities could sink their teeth into.

  It was June, two full months since Sarah had left for Italy, and still no sign of her.

  Aaron walked down Jarvis Street on his way to The Keg with Sarah on his mind. Sarah was always on his mind.

  He had attended the funeral her parents had for Sarah in Santa Rosa, without the body as the Italian authorities finally deduced that the amount of blood found in the ambulance was enough that Sarah was probably deceased. Not many people could survive after losing nearly four pints. The average adult had only eight to ten pints of blood.

  In the last two months, Aaron had come to terms with Sarah’s disappearance. Even if she was up to something, she would’ve called him. She would’ve told him. If she stayed away to protect the people she loved from some unseen enemy, she wouldn’t contact her parents, but she would call him. She knew he could handle himself.

  But no call came.

  His step faltered when he saw the lights of The Keg and knew who was in there, waiting for him.

  His friends. Wanting him to enjoy himself. Wanting him to break from the shell that he constructed around himself.

  Did he deserve to have fun? What would Sarah think if she saw him laughing and drinking and eating just nine weeks after she fought an assassin to the death in an ambulance in Italy?

  His knees buckled. Aaron fell to the sidewalk, his stomach clenching.

  “Sarah …” he whispered her name.

  It felt like the thousandth time he whispered it today, down from weeks before. After teaching the green belts in their nightly classes, students would come up to him and ask who Sarah was. He had been saying her name over and over when he would kiai.

  “Are you okay, Mister?” a man in a suit and tie asked as he walked past.

  Aaron nodded and used a street sign’s post to get to his feet.

  Across the street, a woman walked south on Jarvis, her blonde hair blowing in the cool evening breeze.

  “Sarah …” he whispered her way.

  She turned
to him and smiled.