Sergio looked on edge. He clearly hated that we were both in unexplored territory. With the ingenious know-how of the taxi driver, it only took about ten minutes to get to the airport.
The driver dropped us off and wished us all the luck in the world in catching our flight. He shook our hands vigorously, all smiles. Inside the airport, people were everywhere, making me overheat in a mixture of nerves and temperature. I didn’t dare take my jacket off though. I had the phone in my pocket and I couldn’t risk losing it at this point.
A hire car booth sat across the entrance hall and I led us across, Sergio looking this way and that for people we didn’t want to see. Surely they couldn’t have every airport in Italy covered? Rightly or wrongly, I convinced myself we were safer here than the station.
I let him deal with the woman at the hire-car desk.
“Have you got a driving licence?”
Yet again I thanked every god and saint in the world I had grabbed my documents from the safe this morning and they hadn’t found their way to the bottom of the canal. Had the hotel room only been this morning? This had been the day from hell…but also from heaven.
I winked at him as I handed him my licence and he relaxed a millimetre.
His level of panic confused me. Perhaps his shock had dropped to be replaced with fear. He mustn’t go to pieces now. We would never have got this far without his quick thinking and language skills. I stroked his back and tried to pass on the calming vibes he had been giving me all day.
We signed the forms and were taken to a car park where a bright red Fiat 500 awaited us. My heart sank a little. Once anyone knew that we were driving this tiny pillar box, we would have absolutely no hope of losing them.
“It’s not exactly a Ferrari is it?”
“I don’t know what a Fiat 500 looks like,” Sergio groaned. “It will be okay, no?”
“It’ll be fine. Let’s hope it can go quickly. That’s all that matters now. Do you want to drive? I’ve never driven abroad before.”
He looked at his shoes.
“What’s the matter?”
“I can’t drive.”
“You…”
He threw his hands up. “I never learned, did I? I can drive a gondola, but I can’t do one of these.” He ended the statement with a dramatic huff.
I had to step up, no matter how scary things were. I had ridden on Sergio’s coattails all this time. After all, plenty of people drive abroad, don’t they?
“Don’t get agitated,” I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Jeez, you Italians. I can drive and let’s just hope I remember what side of the road to be on.”
His face relaxed and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ah yes, I forgot you English have to be different from everyone else.”
“Unique,” I corrected, grabbing the keys from him. The car hopped a little at first, but it didn’t take me long to get used to things. Sergio, to his credit, didn’t say anything as I grappled with the controls. Before long we found ourselves on the motorway. I relaxed as soon as we got on there. Life was easier with no turns or roundabouts to deal with, just point and press the accelerator.
The sign for Sorrento said fifty kilometres.
“We’ll be there for four easily,” I said, glancing at the clock on the dashboard.
“We would be there earlier if you put your foot down. You are driving like an old person.”
“You’re very grumpy in Naples, you know. Where’s my sexy gondolier?”
Sergio smiled despite himself.
“I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I don’t like being somewhere new in these circumstances.”
“Try it from my point of view.”
We settled into the journey. Sergio had his hand on my leg. I wasn’t sure if this was supporting me or him. Once we cleared the city, the Bay of Naples opened up to us. We both gasped when we saw it. A mountain reaching up to the sky, clouds just drifting over the top.
“Oh, Sergio, that must be Vesuvius.”
Yet another of Italy’s impressive sights, the volcano that had inspired countless scholars, books and films. The volcano that had buried whole towns when she’d spewed her anger over this region. Fascinated by the story at school, I stared right at her. She put our problems into perspective for a second and we just gaped at her deadly beauty.
Spurred on by her majesty, I put my foot down.
“Thank God for Vesuvius,” muttered Sergio, squeezing my thigh.
Peace restored in our little red car, we made great progress. We’d just passed a sign saying 15km to Sorrento when the first police motorbike sped past us, lights flashing.
I took no notice until another two went by and slowed down up ahead to box us in.
“Oh, Jesus,” cried Sergio “What are we going to do?”
“Let me think.”
I couldn’t lose, not this close to the prize. I saw a junction coming up.
“Hold on,” I said with grim determination.
At the last minute, I swerved off the motorway and down the slip road. The little car responded well, and we flew down the tarmac. Sadly, the bright red could probably be seen from space, but we had to work with what we had.
I had no idea where the road would take us, but we weren’t that far away from Sorrento. We could work something out.
“Any signs?” I shouted to Sergio.
“What to say? Fugitives this way?”
“I was thinking more of Sorrento.”
Thank God the motorbikes carried on but the unmistakable sound of sirens behind us meant police cars were on their way.
“Take a left,” shouted Sergio.
We swung onto a road which made its way up a mountain and into a forest. “What do we do?” I was struggling to control the car on the dirt track.
“I don’t know,” said Sergio, looking behind us.
My heart fell into my stomach as a police car came down the track towards us. They had second-guessed our move. I hadn’t been as clever as I’d given myself credit for.
We had nowhere to go. I spun the car around in a haze of dust, just in time to see a police car coming up the road behind us.
We were trapped.
Sergio turned to me and pulled me close for a long, deep kiss. “When you can, just drive.”
“What are you doing? Sergio?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he leapt out of the Fiat and started running towards the car in front of us with his hands behind his head.
“Oh my God, what’s he doing?” I asked of no-one.
My hands gripped the wheel as the two policemen got out of the car. One had a gun drawn while the other approached Sergio slowly. My rear-view mirror showed me two others creeping towards me. We were surrounded. I had to get this phone out of here.
My heart pounded as I put the car into gear and revved the engine.
Then it all happened in a flash.
As soon as the policeman was near enough to Sergio, he took hold of his arm. Sergio glanced back at me. With a heave, he pulled the policeman to the ground. This distracted the policeman with the gun, and I had my chance.
I floored the accelerator, almost tipping the car as I mounted the bank to dodge the police car. The wheels struggled to grip on the mass of pine needles and dusty soil, and the car rocked. Then, once back on the road, the wheels screeched as I raced back down the road we’d just come up.
Before I turned the corner, I saw in my rear-view mirror the police hauling Sergio to his feet.
Tears were flowing down my face and my hands were shaking as I powered the little car through the streets of the town and found a coastal road to Sorrento.
I couldn’t believe what he’d done. I had to find Antonio Valeri more than ever now—I had to get Sergio free.
Chapter Ten
To my relief, the police must have been so sure they would catch us on the motorway that they hadn’t put up a roadblock to Sorrento. About twenty minutes after Sergio had thrown himself to the wolves, I pulled into a parking
bay. I got everything out of the car and left the Fiat in the town square.
A hotel overlooked the square. Best to get a room quickly so I can dump everything and pull myself together. My hands were still shaking as I went to book in, my thoughts full of panic about Sergio and what he would be going through.
“What is the name, sir?” said the receptionist.
“Sorry?”
“Your name?”
“Oh, it’s Matt Norris.”
The receptionist smiled at me. “Welcome to Sorrento, Mr Norris. Do you have your passport, please?”
“It’s in my things. Can I bring it to you later?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have a credit card for a guarantee?”
They would see my real name as soon as I gave it over.
“Silly me got pickpocketed in Naples. I managed to get some cash from the bank. Can I leave you two hundred euros instead?”
The receptionist gave me a look of sympathy. “Ah, Naples. You wouldn’t believe how often I hear this story. Of course, two hundred will be more than enough.”
I gave him a stack of notes and took the key card.
In any other situation, the room would have been lovely. Fresh blue and white walls with stark white sheets on the bed, and a stunning bathroom. I didn’t even know if I’d be sleeping in here and I certainly didn’t know if I’d be sleeping alone. I threw my things on the side and sat down on the end of the bed, my head in my hands. My mind raced and I needed to get myself together to find Antonio Valeri as quickly as possible.
I pulled up the article Sergio had found on my iPad. Antonio Valeri, a man in his fifties, had given an interview to a local paper about his retirement in Sorrento and his career. Sergio had read it to me back in Venice. I couldn’t make out much of it, but he had been interviewed and photographed at The Foreigners Club in Sorrento, so I decided to start there.
At reception, the eagle-eyed receptionist smiled at me as soon as I got out of the lift. Receptionists were the bane of my life on this trip.
“Ah, did you find your passport, Mr Norris?”
I shrugged. “I must have left it in my car. I’m so sorry. I’m going out to stretch my legs. I’ll get it when I come back. You must think me very disorganised.”
“There is no rush.”
“Could you tell me where The Foreigners Club is? I have had a recommendation to go there.”
“The best view in Sorrento! That is a very good recommendation. If you go past the church, you will see the gate on your right.”
“Thank you.”
I came out of the hotel and what I saw made my stomach churn. About four policemen were standing by the hire car. I dived into a souvenir shop and peered through the window.
How could they have found me so quickly?
Realisation dawned on me. Using my driving licence must have triggered an alert. It wouldn’t surprise me if the hire cars were fitted with trackers. Thank God I’d paid the deposit on the room in cash and in Matt’s name.
I needed to get across the square to the church on the other side. How I wished I could wear a Venetian mask right now, but that would draw more attention to me than walking across in broad daylight. I missed my ideas man, Sergio. I needed to act quickly. I couldn’t bear to think of him right now.
Taking a deep breath, I told myself I was in control. I had to do this for both of us. I selected a hat and sunglasses from the shop and put them on. In my incredibly weak disguise, I skirted around the square.
I missed the bustle of Venice or Rome. No doubt the locals were all inside, cooking up a romantic meal for St Valentine’s Day.
Sergio’s voice in my head told me to stay calm and not to rush it. I even managed to stop and window shop in a couple of boutiques on my way around the square.
“You’re just a man having a browse,” I muttered to myself.
Once the square was behind me, I saw the church and quickly made my way to the club, almost leaping out of my skin as the clock struck four. I beat that deadline, Sergio. I must have driven like a crazy person after I left him—it was all a blur.
The club looked like a colonial building, nothing like the ancient buildings of Venice, Burano and Naples. At the door, a maître d’ stood at his lectern with his nose in the air like only a maître d’ can. Talking to a waiter or more accurately at a waiter, he exuded arrogance. They seemed to be having an argument. The poor waiter looked browbeaten and irritated.
I removed my glasses and hat and smiled.
“Can I help you?” he sniffed.
“This may be a strange question, but I wondered if you knew a man named Antonio Valeri?”
The maître d’ reared back as though I had let out a live cobra, right there in his fancy garden. “We do not discuss patrons, thank you very much. Who might you be?”
I mustered every bit of confidence I could find and looked him straight in the eye.
“I used to work with Mr Valeri in Rome. In fact, he came over to London to spend time on a joint task with me.”
“If you are a friend of his, then you would have his details, would you not?”
Someone else fancied themselves as some kind of mastermind detective.
I moved a little closer to him. “I’m not a friend—I worked with him. I’m in the area for a short time and I remembered he recommended this place. I thought it might be nice to get in touch with him and offer to buy him a drink. Is there any chance you could give me a number for him?”
“Absolutely out of the question. I would be betraying the privacy of a valued member of this club.”
So Valeri held a membership here. This man wouldn’t make much of a sleuth. Overconfidence is always a great thing when trying to slip someone up. I got my wallet out.
“I hope you are not about to try to bribe me, sir.”
I smiled my most patronising smile. “Of course not. I think you have been watching too many films, my friend. I thought I’d write down where I’m staying. You know, just in case he did turn up today.”
The maître d’ sighed and brushed an imaginary piece of fluff off his shoulder. This must be the most boring conversation he had ever had, the poor thing. “I am not a betrayer of confidences and I am certainly not a messenger boy. Now please, either come in for a drink or be on your way. I am very busy.”
I needed to take stock and think about my next move. “A drink sounds wonderful. Please lead the way.”
The maître d’ still looked down his nose at me. But I’d done battle with worse than him today. He couldn’t faze me.
“You are lucky you have come out of season,” he said, leading me through the building “When it is busy, you cannot get a table here, no matter how much you intend to pay.”
The reason for this soon became apparent as we walked out onto the terrace. Mount Vesuvius sat centre stage and huge, with the Bay of Naples lying beneath her. I couldn’t remember seeing a more beautiful view.
“Oh, my goodness,” I said.
The maître d’ liked my response and showed me to a table by the railings with an uninterrupted view. It’s amazing how quickly you can talk someone round just by liking what they like.
“It is quite something, isn’t it?” he said.
“It’s magnificent.”
“What can I get you to drink?”
Now the car was under police watch I wouldn’t be driving, so a small drink would help to calm my nerves. “I’ll have a Sancerre please.”
The maître d’ sniffed haughtily. Oh-oh, I’d made another faux pas. It seemed to be ever so easy to say the wrong thing in Southern Italy.
“Of course, you can have a French wine if you wish. However, we do have an extensive list of wines from this region which I would argue are far superior.”
Now I understood what made him tick.
“Well, seeing that you know what I like, how about you choose for me? I would be thrilled to try a wine from this region.”
Bang, I found myself straight back int
o his good books. He went off quite merrily to arrange my order.
I sighed and let my body relax for the first time since we had pulled into Naples. My body might have been resting but my mind never stopped worrying about Sergio. I couldn’t bear to think what he would be going through. Surely nothing worse than being banged up, but with his history, that would be terrifying. I would have him out of there in no time. I had to believe that.
A waiter put a glass down in front of me—the same waiter who had been arguing with the maître d’ when I arrived.
“Thank you,” I said. “I need this. Your friend isn’t very hospitable.”
He looked around. “Antoni Valeri is a member here. If you were keen, I could contact him and say he is needed.”
I straightened up. “That would be wonderful.”
“Of course, it would be dangerous for me.” He remained standing there.
I realised what he meant and took a bundle of euros from my pocket. I tucked them into my napkin just as the maître d’ appeared from nowhere. I struggled to conceal my annoyance.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” I snapped. “I merely asked if this napkin could be replaced. I have a fear of things that have been sitting out for a long time. Bugs and things don’t agree with me.”
He looked a little affronted that I would suggest any unwelcome living creature would dare to come onto his terrace.
“I will assure you, there are not many…bugs…at this time of year.”
“Humour me.”
I handed the napkin to the waiter in the most offhand manner I could manage. The maître d’ turned to follow him, no doubt to stick his nose in, which I didn’t want. I took a huge glug of the wine and made an appreciative noise.
“This is truly spectacular,” I said.
I had caught him hook, line and sinker. He turned and faced me, a big smile on his lips. “I am so pleased you like it. The grape is grown not ten kilometres from where you sit.”
“Really? Please, do tell me about it.”
Chapter Eleven
I sat for what seemed like an eternity although, in reality, it could only have been an hour at most. The waiter gave me an almost imperceptible nod as he served me my second glass of wine, which I managed to make last as long as possible. I could tell how this annoyed the maître d’, which made each minuscule sip taste all the sweeter. His goodwill at my having shown interest in his precious wine hadn’t lasted all that long.
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