by A. L. Knorr
I picked up a pencil from beside my laptop and threw it at his head. “Ha ha.”
Tomio ducked, laughing, and snagged the pencil out of the air. Just like that the tension between us diffused.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way,” he said.
I nodded and turned to fill a glass of water at the sink. “Thank you.”
Tomio murmured something under his breath.
“What was that?” I turned off the tap, the cup hovering under it, half full.
“I said: for now.” Tomio smiled, his eyes sparkling in an unrepentant way as he left the kitchen.
Eighteen
A Viper In The Nest
“Vole to Surfer, Vole to Surfer!” The radio blared from the table beside my bed. “Are you there?”
I lurched to sitting in the dark bedroom, blinking bleary-eyed at the clock. It was twelve minutes past one in the morning. The curtains fluttered with a soft breeze at the open windows. Heart climbing the inside of my neck with panicky claws, I reached for the radio and misjudged, knocking it with the back of my hand and sending it onto the floor with a clatter.
With a curse I threw the covers back, terrified that I’d broken the thing. “That would be just what we need,” I muttered, snatching up the radio and scampering for Tomio’s room as I depressed the button.
“Surfer One, here,” I said into the walkie-talkie. “I’m waking Surfer Two.”
The radio crackled several seconds later. “Copy.”
Pushing through Tomio’s partially open door, I found he was already rising to sit against the headboard of his narrow bed. The thin sheet fell away from the smooth musculature of his naked chest and I almost forgot what I was doing in his bedroom.
“I heard the crash,” he murmured, reminding me I was here on official business.
I nodded and sat on the bed beside him with the radio in my hand. “Surfer One and Two here,” I said, clearing my throat. “Go ahead, Vole. We’re listening.”
“It’s happening tonight. Nero just left ten minutes ago. I only waited this long to tell you to make sure he wasn’t coming back. Everything is quiet down here. He’s meeting Dante, who has Gage, at a place called Il Cono tonight, rather, this morning. Now.”
Tomio and I exchanged a spooked look, eyes big in the dark.
“Did you get an exact time?”
“No. I just know he’s gone and he won’t be back until the job is done,” Janet said. “You’d better hurry.”
“What’s Il Cono?” Tomio asked.
“The Cone,” I replied at the same time as Janet’s voice came through the speaker.
Tomio rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that. I do have some Italian. What the hell is ‘The Cone’ and where is it?”
There was no answer for several seconds, then: “I don’t know. I thought you would.”
“That’s it? You don’t have any other information?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.
“Sorry. That’s it. I was lucky to gather that much. I don’t know if I’m being paranoid but I think he might suspect something.”
My stomach clenched and Tomio’s face seemed to go pale in the gloom. “What makes you think that?”
“Just a feeling,” she replied. “Like I said, I might just be paranoid.” She gave a nervous laugh. “You’d better go figure out what Il Cono is. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Just like old times down here.”
“We’ll come for you as soon as we can,” I said into the radio. “Thanks, Vole.”
“I know, and you’re welcome. Good luck, Surfers. Over and out.”
“Over and out.”
I headed for the laptop on the kitchen table as Tomio followed. Setting the radio down, I woke the computer up and did a quick search for ‘Il Cono, Napoli, Italia’.
Tomio hovered at my shoulder as the search engine returned a single result. We leaned in to peer at the screen as a location pinned on the map of Northwest Naples appeared. A business listing along with a cheerfully colored logo and some photographs of a quaint establishment greeted our eyes.
“An ice cream shop?” I blinked up at Tomio, his face close to mine, eyes troubled. “Is it just me or does that seem really implausible?”
“It’s weird, but that’s what she said and I think we’re lucky there isn’t more than one location. It must be a cover. Come on. Let’s go.”
As we scrambled to dress in dark clothing and pack some water, our phones and some food, I sent Basil a text message updating him on the information Janet had shared. Tomio and I threw possibilities back and forth as we locked the flat and made our way to the Fiat, one of many cars lined up in a row on the street.
A shadow slipped underneath the small car’s frame as I pressed the unlock button. Pausing at the driver’s side door, I bent over to look under the front bumper. The eyes of a frightened feline curled up under the car’s axle stared unblinkingly back at me.
“Come on out from under there, kitty,” I said in a soothing tone. “We’re short on time here.”
“Just go. The engine will frighten it away,” said Tomio opening the side door.
I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, leaving one foot out on the pavement. Turning on the engine, we waited a second and were rewarded when a dark streak shot from under the car to behind a dumpster across the street. Closing the door, I pulled away from the curb as Tomio pulled up the directions to Il Cono on his phone.
Piloting the car onto the Nuovo Via Marina and heading northwest toward an area of Naples we’d never visited, I mulled over how much time we might have.
“They still have to start the dehydration process,” I said, my hands tight on the wheel. I was grateful for the near zero traffic on the roads.
“Unless they’re coordinated enough that Dante started it already and Nero is joining him toward the end of it,” Tomio answered. “Take this road, where it curves to the right.”
We began to climb through a cramped residential area. A full moon gleamed crisp and bright from a vast night sky. Under other circumstances I would have admired the display of stars and constellations set so starkly against the smooth, cloudless backdrop of violet.
“That would be risky though, right? What if Nero got delayed for some reason? They only have one shot. If Gage dies, they won’t have another crack at it.”
“I don’t disagree, but Janet’s hunch also plays a part. If Nero really does suspect her, they have reason to hurry. If not, then they probably would take their time and be careful.”
The lights of Naples appeared below as we gained elevation, cutting a sharp half-moon arc across the coastline and contrasting sharply with the blackness of the bay.
“So how much time should we assume we have?” My fire crackled eagerly in my torso, thinking of Gage lying there slowly burning from the inside out. Once I got to him, I could see what state he was in using evanescent vision.
“None,” Tomio replied as he gave me another instruction and I turned the car left onto a narrow winding road. A few small businesses sprang up here, tabbacherias, pizzerias, banks, a few restaurants and clothing shops. “It’s six minutes up this road. Right-hand side. It’s not wise to assume we have any time at all. We just have to find him as fast as we can.”
I nudged a little more speed out of the Fiat, taking a curve fast enough to send Tomio’s shoulder into the door. A scooter buzzed into sight, its single headlight blinding me temporarily.
Tomio swore and grabbed for the handle over the door.
The scooter droned by with a single, angry beep.
“It will add a whole new dimension of difficulty to this operation if you kill us. Slow down,” Tomio said as I took the next turn while accelerating. “It’s three-hundred meters to Il Cono. Park here and we’ll run the rest of the way. We don’t want to lose the element of surprise.”
I piloted the car to a side street and went two more blocks before squeezing up onto the sidewalk with a mish-mash of other tiny cars. I turned off the engine as T
omio grabbed our backpack of supplies. I locked the car and pocketed the key fob in the zippered chest-pocket of my jacket as Tomio zipped up his own thin, black windbreaker and shrugged on the backpack. It was far too warm for coats of any kind, but we needed to be as invisible as possible, so that meant long sleeves. Tomio drew a line when I suggested toques and balaclavas just in case we needed to hide in the shadows. He accused me of over-dramatizing, I argued we should be prepared for anything and it wasn’t like I was asking him to wear war-paint. He argued that if someone spotted two kids in face-masks, they’d for sure call the police. In the end, since I’d pulled rank about Ryan, I’d let him win on the balaclavas. Plus I thought he had a point about someone calling the police.
“What’s the plan,” Tomio murmured as we approached Il Cono from behind.
“We break in as quietly as possible. Neutralize any resistance. Now’s the time for you to exercise those killer martial arts skills.”
We crossed the road avoiding the coins of light thrown by the streetlamps. Il Cono was on a corner, so we approached it from the side street. A door fifty yards ahead might be its back door access.
“And if it’s just the two of them? I’ll take Nero and you take Dante?” Tomio whispered.
“I should take Nero, you should take Dante,” I said, stomach prickling with the feet of a thousand ants marching. The anticipation of this confrontation was worse than the action itself. I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. A fleeting memory of what Basil had said about the mage who possessed an orb whispered through my mind like a gust of wind through a broken shutter. I wished I knew the nature of the power and if Nero had indeed accessed it. I was Burned and Tomio was a champion martial artist, but what was Nero?
“I’m the fighter,” Tomio whispered, as if reading my mind. He put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Wait. Let’s settle this before we get any closer.”
I stopped. “I’m Burned. Nero is Burned. It won’t be a fair fight if you take him. Besides, you’ve been coaching me for a year now. Where’s the faith?”
Tomio frowned and for a startled second, then: “Fine. I’ll take Dante. Does he have any training at all?”
I thought back to our confrontations in Venice. Dante had sucker punched me once, but after that his violent strategies had relied upon taking one of his own family members hostage with a blowtorch. I didn’t recall any evidence of fighting know-how. “I don’t think so. He’s a coward at heart, and a bully.”
“Boring,” Tomio breathed.
“Still. He’s the son of a mafia boss and no stranger to violence. Plus he’s desperate, and that makes him dangerous.”
Tomio nodded. “Noted. Let’s do this.”
He moved quietly on cat-like feet and I stayed on his heel like his shadow as we closed the distance to our target.
Slinking along the street and hugging the wall, I followed Tomio to the side door. Once there we hesitated. An address to the right of the doorjamb suggested it was actually a private flat, not the ice cream’s shop’s rear access, if it even had a rear access. We moved forward to the edge of the shop’s window, leaving the door untouched. The front window—decorated with hand-painted frolicking gelato cones with happy faces—was dark. No interior lights. No sign anyone was inside.
A cat wailed from some distant street, lifting my hackles. Another cat answered with a deep, mournful cry. We shrank back as a car passed.
“There’s no one here,” Tomio whispered, taking another furtive glance through the window and then turning to me. “There’s no access to any back room. It’s not right. This can’t be the place.”
I rested my back against the wall and let my head tilt back, thinking. Liberating my phone from my pocket, I opened a search engine and did another search. No other ‘Il Cono’ appeared. My heart sank. I expanded the search limits to include the Amalfi coast and the cities there. One more Il Cono appeared but it was in a busy main street of Ravello, several hours drive away and surrounded by other businesses. From the photos, it was an even smaller ice cream shop than the one we were standing beside. The cool hands of panic began to wrap themselves around my neck. I shivered and turned to Tomio, realizing that he too was on his phone but he wasn’t doing a search, he was texting someone.
“Who are you texting?” I leaned in close, hope rising in my breast that Tomio had thought of someone who might know, but he turned the screen off before I could get a good look.
“No one,” he muttered, then moved past me heading for the car. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get a hold of someone at the Agency.”
I slipped my phone into the inside pocket of my jacket and took out the keys to the Fiat as we walked down the slope to the car. As I slid behind the wheel, my phone vibrated. Leaving the door open, I pulled my phone out and stared at the screen. I was still staring at it in disbelief as Tomio sat in the passenger’s seat and the car’s shocks protested.
“Who is it?” Tomio asked, then leaned over the console to see it for himself. “Oh, wow.”
A cauldron of bats took flight in my stomach, twisting and churning and making me feel nauseous. The name on my phone’s screen was Ryan Wendig.
“Answer it,” Tomio hissed with urgency.
“Why would he call me back now?” My hands quivered and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“He’ll tell you when you answer it.”
My thumb hovered over the answer button but I could not bring myself to press it. After I let it go for another two rings, Tomio took the phone and I didn’t stop him. I was too paralyzed to know what to do.
“Hello?” Tomio sat back in the seat looking far more comfortable than I thought he should, considering who he was talking to. “Hey, Ryan. Yes. She’s right beside me. Hang on.”
Tomio held my phone out and I stared at it. Impatiently, he nudged it further into my space. Finally, I took the phone.
“Hi,” I husked, then cleared my throat.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” Ryan said, raising his voice above some steady background noise that sounded like a diesel engine. It was difficult to read his tone. “Where are you?”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t form words, at least not fast enough for Tomio.
He leaned over and pressed the speaker button. “Ryan, you’re on speakerphone. Go ahead,” Tomio said, sounding eager.
It hit me like a flour sack to the side of the head. Tomio had texted Ryan, prompting him to call me. All the air felt like it was sucked from my lungs as the realization of his betrayal sliced into me like a letter-opener between the ribs. Lifting my eyes to Tomio’s face, I stared at him in horror, accusation all over my face.
Tomio withered a little under my glare and looked away, but I sensed no regret in him.
“Where are you?” Ryan repeated.
Tomio opened his mouth but I got there first, the words snapping out. “Where are you, Ryan?”
“I’m parked outside my rental flat with the engine running, waiting for you to tell me where you are so I can come meet you. You’ll never free Gage without my help, and I’ll never free him without yours. We need to work together, and fast. It may already be too late.”
“Why now? I told you Gage was in danger back when he was taken over a week ago and you didn’t believe me.” I pulled my leg in and shut the Fiat’s door.
“I know, if you were listening, I already apologized for not believing you. I was sure it was a ruse you and Gage cooked up to trap me. I believe you now.” Ryan’s voice cracked. Either he was fighting for control over his emotions and he really was terrified for his brother, or he had superior acting skills. I didn’t doubt the latter, but I greatly doubted for former. Still... Gage, Nero and Dante were clearly not here to do their dirty business inside a tiny gelato shop. We had no idea as to their whereabouts and time was running out.
“I just got back into the country today,” Ryan was saying. “I tried texting Gage’s phone but he didn’t answer. He doesn’t ever not answer me. Still,
I thought you might be playing a long game. But when Tomio texted me with a recent photo of himself and you here in Naples...”
I shot daggers at Tomio a second time. He patted the air as if to say, just wait, don’t be mad.
“...I knew Gage was in trouble. Tomio wouldn’t be there otherwise.”
“What about you and Nero?” I asked. “You have a deal.”
Ryan’s tone turned into a growl. “As far as I’m concerned, he trampled any agreement we had when he allowed your piss-ant ex-boyfriend to kidnap my brother.”
I gasped with fury. “Dante is not my ex—”
Tomio rolled his eyes so hard the irises totally disappeared. “Guys, focus. Ryan, where the hell is Il Cono?”
Ryan seemed startled into speechlessness for a second, then he answered in the tone of someone newly enlightened. “Of course. It’s so obvious.”
He laughed suddenly and without humor. In fact, it was a cold and frightening sound. Tomio and I exchanged a nervous look.
“Listen carefully. You need to go through a suburb just outside of Naples called Portici. Get on the SP19. Climb until you reach the turn off for SP140—”
Tomio scrambled for a pen or pencil in the Fiat’s dashboard console, but there was nothing there but tissues and the car’s rental agreement. He sent a desperate look that said, we’d better not forget this, then glared at the phone so hard I half expected it to light on fire.
“—when you see a sign for Oservatoria Vesuviano, pull off to the right side of the road. There’s a rest stop behind some trees. Quite hidden so keep your eyes peeled. I’ll meet you there. I’m driving a black Alfa Romeo Giulietta. Go slow. The road is not well lit up there.”
The road is not well lit up there. Where was he taking us?
“Are you wearing sneakers?” Ryan’s voice was clipped and business-like, all emotion and concern for his twin stowed away in the face of a job to be done.
“Yes,” Tomio answered, since I was too busy still wondering how we’d suddenly found ourselves in partnership with one of my least favorite people in the world, against another of my least favorite people in the world, whom I was supposed to be bringing back to his father safe and in one unburned piece. I closed my eyes and forced myself to inhale slowly. I felt claustrophobia lurking at the edges of my consciousness, not from the tiny Fiat we occupied, but from the metaphoric walls closing in around me, funneling me into an outcome I could neither control nor influence.
