Forgive No More

by Seb Kirby

  “The agent is Debbie Miller. The journalist goes by the name of Blake. Miles Blake. I can tell you where to find them.”

  “You want me to remove them?”

  “Not yet. We need to know why they are there. Blake has been investigating what he would call the drugs problem. It could be that. But I have a hunch it could be something more. Tell me what you know about Town Lake?”

  El Romero was defensive. “Why would you be interested in anything I know about that, Senor?”

  “Because I think it’s where Miller is coming from and she’s searching for a new angle. And if she is, why is she down in Tijuana?”

  “I will make enquiries, Senor.”

  El Romero would say no more. By the time Craven ended the call, he was more convinced than ever the Mexican was hiding something.

  Craven called up the FBI database and began to search for information on Wolfgang Heller, the one he knew must have been the real perpetrator of the Town Lake atrocity. The details were slight. The German had been observed breaking into the Ravitz home in San Diego before he went to Austin. And, what was this? A report that earlier Heller had been seen in Tijuana. This fact, together with the feeling that El Romero was holding something back, was a connection to cause concern. The kind of thing that could explain why Debbie Miller had gone to Tijuana.

  He delved further into the database. It led him to the discovery of another connection. Heller had been in Sollicciano prison at the same time as Matteo Lando. The same Matteo Lando who’d been under FBI surveillance in relation to the importation of cocaine into Europe from Tijuana. The same Lando family that did business with El Romero. No wonder the Mexican had been defensive.

  Craven closed the database link. What was happening in Tijuana had the potential to expose the real cause of the Town Lake deaths and blow apart the drugs operation at the same time.

  A further thought came to Craven. James Blake. It was too much of a coincidence that Blake’s brother was now in Tijuana when there were known connections between both Blakes and the Lando family.

  The request to Europol for the detention of James Blake had produced no response as yet. Craven resolved to put more pressure on the European authorities to deliver.

  Meanwhile, he knew the next move he made in Tijuana would be crucial.

  Chapter 45

  With frequent stops to allow oncoming vehicles to pass, Ferrara took the Giulietta through the anonymous narrow white streets of Ostuni, guided by Schreiber from the front passenger seat while I sat in the back. When we arrived at the small central square, Piazza della Liberta, Schreiber signaled we should stop. “This is as far as we go.”

  He led us along Via Roma, past the small church of Spirito Santo, until we came to a narrow alleyway leading off the street and up labyrinthine stone staircases taking us higher into the heart of this part of the medieval city.

  Schreiber paused at the doorway of one of the multistory houses perched on the still-rising hillside. “You can see why I have chosen this place. Somewhere difficult to find.” He paused to glance up and down the narrow alleyway before continuing. “I found her just in time. In Florence. Working the streets. I had to smuggle her away. They threatened to kill her if she left.”

  He took a key from his pocket and opened the door. Before we went on up the steep flight of stairs leading to the apartments above, Schreiber made us pause again. “May I ask you both to understand that if the person you are going to meet appears distressed, there is a good reason. Her emotions are raw because of what she has been through. I ask you to respect that and allow her to tell you as much or as little as she wishes.”

  When we arrived at the top of the last flight of the stairs we came to a small apartment crammed into the uppermost floor of the building. Schreiber called out in a reassuring voice. “Gina. It’s Arndt. I have some people I would like you to meet.”

  The room was clean but lacking enough ventilation to cope with the heat that remained in this part of Italy in early September.

  She sat on a low couch facing us, saying nothing, watching as we came in. She was small, vulnerable, not long past her teens. She wore her silence as protection against a world that had turned against her.

  Schreiber showed us to seats at an old wooden table beneath the solitary window and continued to try to put her at her ease. “I want you to meet Professor Nico Ferrara. He’s here to help.”

  Ferrara smiled but added nothing.

  “And I want you to meet James Blake. He has a story to tell. One very much like yours.”

  She took interest in this. “You will help me find my sister?”

  I was trying to place her accent. It was Canadian, perhaps. No, American. East Coast. “You can trust me. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

  We talked for over an hour. Schreiber and Ferrara remained silent as the conversation passed back and forth between myself and Gina. She was being wary. I needed to win her trust so she would begin to open up about what had happened to bring her here.

  I told her I knew how she must be feeling, separated from her sister.

  She responded to that. “How could you know? Have you lost a sister? A twin sister?”

  I replied. “No, but my wife Julia lost a sister. It was her twin. I know what Julia has been going through coming to terms with her loss.”

  “So you expect me to care?”

  “It was in Florence. Her sister was caught up with the Landos.”

  She shuddered at the mention of the Lando family. “What is the sister’s name?”

  “It was Emelia.”

  “I knew of her. I heard how she died. They used it as a lesson to us all not to run.”

  I nodded. “Your life and hers have parallels.”

  She glanced towards Arndt, recognizing now he must have been talking about her before we arrived. And then she turned back to me. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t know what it is like to be out there in the Oltrarno.”

  “I’m not second-guessing that.”

  “Arndt said you had a story to tell. Is this the story?”

  I nodded. “Emelia was a woman very much like you.”

  “So you said.”

  “Let me remind you of her story. She was in the hands of Matteo Lando. Working the Oltrarno, unknown to her sister, Julia, my wife.”

  Gina flinched at the sound of the man’s name. “And your wife, her twin, was also drawn to Florence?”

  I nodded. “Yes. They met there for the first time. They had just a few days together.”

  She was beginning to trust me, knowing I had a good reason to be here. “Then she has suffered as I have suffered.”

  “Tell me about your sister.”

  “Her name is Malika. She is my twin. We grew up in upstate New York. In different families. Our parents, they were wealthy and kind and raised us as their own.”

  “But they didn’t tell you they adopted you?”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s what happened to my wife. But you found out you were adopted?”

  She looked away. “Yes. By accident. I needed ID for a new school. I got to see the adoption certificate.”

  “Did they say why they couldn’t tell you about that before? Or where you were adopted from?”

  “Nothing that helped. Some stuff about it being arranged through the church and some foundation that helped unwanted children, stuff I didn’t want to believe. I was more concerned with the fact of being unwanted. I didn’t adjust. I couldn’t understand why my real mother had chosen to abandon me. I headed for New York. Fooled around. Did drugs. Got caught up with the street.”

  “So how did you get to Florence?”

  “A white knight came to rescue me, to take me away from it all, to start a new life with him in Florence.”

  “Matteo Lando?”

  “How could you know?”

  “He did the same with Emelia.”

  “And that led me to the streets in Florence. Nothing different, just worse than
in New York.”

  I thought again about Julia’s sister, Emelia. Three years on and nothing had changed. From Sollicciano, Matteo Lando was controlling the same trade his father had established when he headed the family.

  “What about your sister, Malika?”

  “She adapted better than me to knowing she was adopted. Stayed in school. Trained. We found each other but our lives separated again. She worked her way up in the local restaurant business and got to manage a chain of restaurants in Saratoga Springs. That is, before she came to Florence.”

  “They fooled her into coming?”

  “They told her I needed her to save me. From the life I’m living here. I’d kept it from her. The one bit of pride I had left and they took that away from me like everything else.”

  “Now she’s missing.”

  “They have her. They took her off the street in broad daylight. Pushed her into the back of an SUV.”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  “How can you think I wouldn’t? But for me, she wouldn’t be there.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s what they do. It’s what happened to Julia and her sister.”

  I turned to Ferrara and Schreiber who’d been listening in silence. I apologized to Gina and asked them to join me on the stairs with the door closed, outside of Gina’s hearing. “I have to ask her an important but difficult question. How far should I go?”

  Schreiber was clear. “She is distressed, so be careful. But if I read well what you mean, she is an experienced woman. You should put away the coyness of the English.”

  Back in the room, I pressed on. “Gina. Please don’t be offended if I ask you this and please be aware it’s difficult for me.”

  She stared back. “Ask.”

  It took Julia three years to be able to tell me what Alfieri Lando had subjected her to. Now I needed Gina to tell me what she herself had suffered when the events were still close at hand. “If I told you my wife had been defiled by a man in a red cape and mask, would that mean anything to you?”

  “Defiled? Are you being polite to spare me?”

  “Raped, then.”

  She looked back with unlowered eyes. “Yes they did that to me. As you describe.”

  “Who?”

  “A special client. After Matteo was sent to prison. A man who could not hide his age or his Englishness, no matter what the disguise.”

  “Where?”

  “In a special apartment in Florence. Close to the Arno. On a special chair.”

  “And your sister? You fear the same will happen to her?”

  “It has already happened, Mr. Blake. They tried to keep it from me but I found out what they’d done. And that they planned to do it again. It’s why I contacted Arndt, seeking a way out for my sister. When they knew I’d spoken with him they said they’d kill me. But I know them well enough by now. They wanted to give me time to know real fear before they finished me. It’s the way they treat women like me. That’s why I’m still here. Their delight in making it a fearful death gave Arndt the chance to get me away.”

  She looked at Schreiber. “The women of Oltrarno thought he was weird. Befriending them yet not for sex. Seeking out twins. Now I know he is a good man seeking to help people like me.”

  I knew Gina was going to be important in helping me and she had been brave in being this open and honest when she was so concerned about her own safety and that of her sister. I didn’t want to put pressure on her too soon.

  I was about to turn towards Ferrara and Schreiber to thank them for bringing me to Gina when there was the sound of a commotion from the apartments below.

  When Schreiber opened the apartment door, black smoke poured in and began to fill the room.

  The building was on fire.

  Chapter 46

  Craven’s call disturbed El Romero. The warnings the Mexican had given Alessa Lando about recent events bringing them all down were in danger of becoming a reality.

  He wished now he hadn’t indulged Matteo Lando when he’d come to him requesting help with Wolfgang Heller’s visit to Tijuana. This was what came of a moment of weakness in honoring the loyalty he felt to Alfieri, Matteo’s father. El Romero should have cut the ties. But it was too late. Now he must act and act at once.

  El Romero picked up the phone and called Alessa Lando. “It is as I feared, Senora. The first of the Americans is here. FBI. There will be more to come if we do not stop this thing now.”

  Alessa did not sound pleased. “How do you expect me to help?”

  “Tell Matteo that Nate Craven is our weakest link. Tell him one of the Blakes is here. The one by the name of Miles.”

  She could be heard struggling to hide an upsurge of anger at the sound of the Blake name. “They are a curse on this family and all we do. Yes, I will tell Matteo. But you know what he will say. No more loose ends. Remove Blake and all who have anything to do with him.” Alessa Lando ended the call without saying anything more.

  El Romero called Ramirez into the office. In truth, Ramirez was no replacement for Luiz Reyas, the best lieutenant he’d ever had. But Ramirez was effective enough and knew when his boss was angry. He showed this by approaching El Romero with his shirt sleeves rolled up to display the more than one hundred star tattoos on each forearm, saying, look at me, El Romero, I have killed all these men for you and I am just as good as Luiz Reyas ever was.

  When Ramirez opened his mouth to speak he showed off the gold and diamond work he’d spent so much on. “You asked for me, El Romero?”

  “You can see my anger, Philipo. There is FBI here in my town I know nothing about. There is an English journalist in my town I know nothing about. How many do we pay for information?”

  “More than most, Senor.”

  “Then why do we not know about this?”

  “You have the names?”

  El Romero nodded. “Find them and take them to the safe place. I wish to ask them why they are here.”

  Chapter 47

  Choose the best way to achieve the objective. This was Wolfgang Heller’s firm intention, no matter what others might advise. If arson was the most dependable means, why deny it?

  These old Ostuni buildings with their whitewashed walls might look charming to the eye but it didn’t take much to realize they were firetraps.

  Blake was naive to think he could travel anywhere in Italy and keep it secret, the more so if he was carrying a phone given to him by the Florence Questura. Didn’t he know Matteo Lando had a man there? Shouldn’t he have guessed he would let them know where Blake was headed?

  Heller smiled. It was yet another wonder of the modern world. With a GPS-enabled phone you could determine the carrier’s location to an accuracy of a few meters. That’s what had enabled Blake to be followed all the way from Padova, though Heller had been forced to drive the BMW 3 Series they’d given him at speeds greater than he would have regarded as safe. That’s what had led him to the firetrap in Ostuni that Blake had entered with two men an hour ago.

  The good thing about arson was that the means to carry it out were always at hand. The spare fuel Heller kept in the boot of his vehicle was the ideal accelerant. The door to the building had a convenient letter box. There was no one in the narrow alleyway. It was simple to pour the petroleum in, wait a few moments for the vapor to spread and then toss in the lighted match.

  It was a marvel how the flames spread throughout the staircase at such speed, how the choking black smoke billowed throughout the building.

  Heller took up position at the end of the alleyway, his weapon readied to take aim when the survivors struggled out.

  If they managed to make it out, he’d shoot Blake dead.

  If he remained inside, he would die anyway. And with him, the girl.

  Chapter 48

  I grabbed Gina by the hand and pushed her towards the door of the apartment. “It’s no use staying here. The smoke will kill us long before the fire has any effect.”

  She was crying. “We won
’t get out. The stairs are a death trap. I’m staying here.”

  I looked across the room for Ferrara and Schreiber but the smoke was so dense I couldn’t see them. Ferrara was shouting, “Make for the stairs. It’s the only chance.”

  Gina pulled at my arm, directing me towards the small window over the kitchen sink. “It’s sealed and doesn’t open. Smash it.”

  My lungs were filling with toxic gas; it was difficult to breath let alone answer.

  The apartment was all of one hundred and fifty feet above street level so that even if we could get out through the window, there would be nowhere to go. But there might be a ledge, somewhere we could cling to in the hope of rescue before the flames engulfed the apartment. In any event, there would be fresh air out there. Anything seemed preferable to following Ferrara and Schreiber down the stairs.

  I searched for something heavy to smash the window. I lifted one of the kitchen chairs. I hurled it at the window with all the force I could muster. The chair bounced off. The window would not break no matter how many times I smashed the chair against it.

  I struggled to shout back to Gina. “It’s a plastic window. It’s cheaper than glass. It’s unbreakable.”

  Her face came close to mine and I could see her features for a moment. The crying had stopped. She was calm; sure she was going to die.

  Flames rushed in from the stairwell and began to advance across the apartment at speed.

  I soaked a towel in water and wrapped it around Gina’s face, leaving just her eyes exposed. I did the same.

  She had become limp, unresponsive, as if she wanted to stay there and let the flames take her.

  I took her arm and pulled her behind me through the flames and towards the stairwell.

  We clattered down the stairs, holding our breath until our lungs were about to burst.

  Chapter 49

  Heller watched as the first of the survivors emerged from the building, coughing and wheezing, falling down onto the ground and gasping for air.

  Yes, arson was most effective.