Honey Trap

by JJ Marsh

  To her astonishment, when Gennaio got to his feet, he embraced her warmly and kissed her on both cheeks. “Thank you, Beatrice. You are our saviour! Come, I will take you wherever you need to go.”

  “Very nice of you but that’s not necessary. I’m going back to my apartment first and that’s an easy walk from here. Five o’clock at Ecco, OK? See you later.”

  She extricated her hands from his and trotted off down the street in the direction of her apartment. Once the growly red beast had driven off with a toot of its horn, she crossed the street. Now to grab Matthew’s pyjamas, underwear and books, then she would take a cab to the hospital. Time was getting on.

  She unlocked the front door, aware of a strange pong in the gloomy hallway. As if rice had gone sour. She wrinkled her nose and reached for the light. That was when an arm snaked around her neck and pressed some fabric against her face, forcing the sour smell into her nostrils.

  With a yelp, she kicked backwards and jammed an elbow into her assailant’s ribs, loosening his grip for a second. They staggered backwards and she stamped her heel onto his foot, wishing she had worn heels. Her consciousness grew foggy, her limbs weak and she subsided to the floor in the arms of a stranger.

  Chapter 29

  The sky shifted from the Easter-egg pastels of a summer afternoon to a menacing steel on the way back from the hospital, threatening another spectacular storm. Raindrops battered the windscreen like a barrage of watery arrows and the taxi’s wipers could not keep pace. Once outside the apartment, Will told Adrian and Luke to run for shelter while he paid the driver.

  They ran as instructed, laughing under the feeble shelter of Adrian’s jacket, splashing through puddles and shaking themselves off in the porch.

  The taxi drove away and Will caught a glimpse of a man in a black beret running along the other side of the street. Another car passed and the man had gone. He decided not to mention it in front of Luke but to tell Beatrice just as soon as he could find the elusive woman.

  Will unlocked the heavy wooden door and Luke took the steps two at a time, with Adrian close on his heels. They were both eager to find Beatrice. Will made out he was equally keen, but his true mood was one of concern, because she had neither made an appearance at the hospital nor answered her phone.

  The apartment was empty. No sign of Stubbs anywhere. Two vertical lines appeared between Adrian’s eyebrows

  “She must have gone to Ecco after her lunch. Where else?” said Adrian, looking at Will for reassurance.

  “Yeah, probably. She got distracted by the case and forgot the time. I’ll call Isabella’s mobile and check.” He knew he didn’t sound at all convincing.

  Luke came running back from the bathroom with three towels for them to dry off the rain. “My trainers are wet.”

  “Oh no!” said Adrian. “That means they’re going to stink out the whole place. We need to find some newspaper to stuff inside them. Can you have a look if there’s anything in the kitchen?”

  Luke ran off, dumping the towels on the floor. Will picked one up, dried his hair, unlaced his shoes and went into the living room to dial Isabella’s mobile.

  “Ciao, Will. How’s Matthew?”

  “Hi, Isabella. He’s going to be fine. I was just wondering if Beatrice is with you.”

  “With me? No. I gave her a free day to be with Matthew. Maybe she is at the hospital or at the apartment, waiting for you.”

  “Unfortunately not. We just got back to the apartment and she’s not here. She was meant to join us at the hospital after lunch, but didn’t show up.”

  “You tried her phone, yes?” Isabella sounded concerned.

  “Of course we called her. We’ve been calling her all afternoon. No reply.”

  There was a silence and a muffled conversation in the background.

  Isabella’s voice came back on the line. “OK, I send Ettore to collect you. Come to Ecco. All of you.”

  “What, you mean now?”

  “Yes, now, Will. All of you come now. Together, we stay strong.”

  “What does that mean? Is Beatrice in trouble?”

  “I don’t know yet. Will, just get everyone downstairs and into the car. We talk when you get here.”

  “OK, OK. We’ll be ready.”

  Adrian and Luke stood staring at Will as he rubbed the towel over his face in a gesture of exasperation. Those two lines on Adrian’s forehead had returned and Luke was barefoot.

  “Get changed into some decent clothes. Ettore is coming to take us to Ecco.”

  “Where’s Beatrice?” asked Adrian.

  “That’s what I hope to find out.”

  For once, their voluble driver had nothing to say. Ettore greeted them politely and opened the car door but uttered not a single word on the journey to Ecco. The only sound was the rain drumming on the roof and the constant swish of the wipers. On arrival, he did not drop them by the entrance but drove into the courtyard at the back and parked outside the kitchen door. Will assumed that was to save them from getting wet, so was surprised when he got out and escorted them indoors.

  The kitchen was full of people preparing for the evening service, who stopped and stared as Ettore threaded his way through the room, beckoning for his passengers to follow. He pushed opened the swing doors and held them open until Luke, Will and Adrian had entered the restaurant.

  Isabella and Agusto were standing either side of a table, shouting at each other. They stopped abruptly when they saw the new arrivals. Sitting at the same table was Gennaio with his head in his hands and a thin man wearing a black beret. Adrian’s mouth fell open. Their stalker stood up with an apologetic smile.

  Will’s voice was as thunderous as the sky outside. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

  Isabella rushed to greet them. “Luca, il grande ragazzo. Will, Adrian, come here and let me explain.” She indicated towards the table with her head. “And you,” she added brusquely to Ettore, who took a seat next to Gennaio.

  Will approached the party and folded his arms. He did not sit. Adrian remained standing and Will saw Luke’s hand slip into his.

  “You know Gennaio, Agusto’s brother,” said Isabella.

  The man looked up, his expression sorrowful, and greeted them with a nod.

  She pointed to the stalker. “This is Pietro, who maybe you recognise. He is part of the Ecco family and I hired him to watch you, to make sure you didn’t get into any trouble. But he’s not good at surveillance and I think he made you afraid, no? I am very sorry. So is he.”

  She said something in Italian and the man placed a hand to his chest. “Mi dispiace,” he said in a smoke-roughened voice.

  Agusto released a sound of infuriated exasperation and Isabella splayed a hand to shut him up.

  “My husband knew nothing about this. But I knew nothing about what he was doing!” Her eyes flashed. “I thought Ettore was a new driver, but today I find he is a bodyguard, hired by my husband to protect Beatrice. His name is not even Ettore!” Her pitch rose to almost a shout.

  Agusto’s chin was defiant. “At least I chose a professional. Why would you employ Lo Stupido, of all people?”

  The man in the black beret clearly couldn’t understand English, but caught the insult and objected with some vehemence.

  “Enough! Silence!” Agusto commanded, and everyone obeyed. “We can argue about who is right and who is wrong after we find Beatrice. She went to Ristorante della Nonna for lunch. Then she took a taxi to the docks to meet Gennaio.”

  The big man heaved his shoulders upwards in an expressive shrug. “She wanted see the damage to the warehouse. I showed her where the fire started and she asked if she could ride in my Ferrari. I drove her back and we took a coffee together. Then she went back to her apartment. What more can I say?”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. “Did you see her go inside?” he asked, his tone accusatory.

  “No, he didn’t.” Ettore spoke, his voice startlingly different to the garrulous Italian gent they knew when he was behi
nd the wheel. “But I did. I was watching her the whole time.” His entire posture changed, his accent mutated to somewhere east of London and his manner became slow, precise and professional. “My name is Russell Lane and I’m a personal security specialist. I apologise for the subterfuge but it was for your own good. I follow Beatrice everywhere. Only when she goes home for the night do I clock off. This morning I watched her visit the docks, tailed her and Gennaio to the café and saw her enter the apartment block. I parked opposite the front door, waiting for her to come out. The only person who left the building that I recognised was him,” he said, pointing at Pietro.

  The thin man in the black beret immediately started protesting.

  Agusto yelled at him, Isabella screeched at Agusto, and Pietro threw his hands in the air as if asking the heavens for help.

  “SHUT UP!” Will bellowed. “Pietro was in our apartment building? Again?”

  Isabella flushed. “He has a key. I told him to look around while you were out, to see if he could find anything.”

  “And did he?” Will’s eyes bored into Pietro, who looked around as if seeking an escape route.

  “No. He says he did his job. Wait till you are all occupied, access the apartment, check for anything relevant and leave.”

  “Hold up.” Ettore/Russell leant his elbows on the table. “Beatrice went into her apartment while Pietro was there and he didn’t even see her?”

  Isabella relayed the question and Pietro repeatedly shook his head, saying the same phrases over and over, accompanied by various supplicatory gestures.

  “There is a back door,” said Will, addressing Russell. “If she thought someone was following her, she might have gone in the front door and straight out the back to give them the slip. Maybe she didn’t even go up to the apartment at all. But why hasn’t she answered her phone or called to tell us where she is?”

  There was a portentous silence. Russell shook his head. “Maybe she did go out the back door. But not voluntarily.”

  “You think she was kidnapped?” Gennaio gasped and clutched at his heart. He was worryingly pasty and sweaty, a far from wholesome look.

  “Will?” Adrian gave a pointed look at the little blond head beside him. The boy’s eyes were huge. Will realised this was no place for a six-year-old, listening to stories of abduction and spying.

  “Yes, right. You’d better take him back to the apartment. Listen, Isabella ...”

  The kitchen door opened and Suhail emerged from the kitchen with a younger man, both in chef’s whites.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said Suhail. “We were talking, both of us worried about Beatrice. Bruno told me something. I think it could be important.”

  “Bruno, what is it?” Agusto’s voice contained a tone of surprise.

  The young man seemed mortified to have all eyes on him. “This is probably nothing. Beatrice found something in the courtyard. She thought the man who scratched Agusto’s Ferrari dropped it when he fell. She asked me what it was. I recognised it because Gennaio has one. It was an ADSP key card.”

  A silence hung over the group and Adrian looked from one face to another, waiting for an explanation. Gennaio sat down with a thump, as if his legs had given way.

  Will was not as patient. “What the hell is that and what does it mean?” he asked.

  “It means,” said Russell, his face thoughtful, “whoever keyed the Ferrari has access to the port. All right then. Someone starts a warehouse fire on Easter weekend. Shortly afterwards, another person, or perhaps the same one, comes here to key the car. The port is a good place to hide something, or someone.”

  “Then let’s go there now! That’s obviously where they’ve taken her!” Adrian exclaimed.

  “Wait,” said Bruno. “We need to think about this. The port covers an enormous area. Whenever I go there with Gennaio, I always get lost. Where do we start to look?”

  Pietro started chattering to Isabella, his expressions as lively and exaggerated as a French mime. The frustration of not being able to understand drove Will to the point of despair.

  “What? What is he saying?”

  Slapping the back of one hand into the palm of another, Agusto commanded control of the conversation. “There is a boat. Lo Stupido is not as stupid as he looks. He saw other people, more than once, watching Beatrice’s apartment. They ride a Vespa. He followed them to the port area. Every night, they go to the same place and leave fifteen minutes later.” He pointed a finger at Russell. “These are the people you stopped chasing Beatrice’s taxi.”

  “Come si chiama la barca?” snapped Russell.

  Pietro answered immediately. “Non so come si dice, ma è N-A-I-A-D-E.”

  Russell scratched at his beard. “I asked him the name of the boat. He says it’s called Naiade. No more messing about, we need the police. These people are counting on us trying to rescue Beatrice ourselves. That is not going to happen. This is a kidnapping and we know where they might be holding her. Will, do you want to come with me, off radar? You look like you can handle yourself. And we’re taking him for directions.” He threw a dirty look at Pietro. “Tu vieni con me.”

  The front door opened and Alessandro the maître d’ stood staring, his umbrella dripping onto the mat. “Pietro?” he exclaimed, his tone incredulous.

  “Alessandro, I can explain,” said Isabella, her voice drowned by the movement of chairs, hurried instructions and phone calls.

  There was no way Adrian was staying at the restaurant if Will was in the thick of things. At the same time, he couldn’t possibly drag Luke into a hostage situation. Isabella and Agusto were distracted and everyone else was either a total stranger or busy with the business of the restaurant. He sensed a presence at his elbow.

  “Luke, would you like to help me in the kitchen?” asked Suhail, his voice calm and low in direct contrast to all the yelling and drama in the restaurant.

  Luke looked up at Adrian for permission. “Can I?”

  With a pang of guilt, Adrian checked with Suhail. “Are you sure? I have no idea how long this is likely to take and you have a job to do.”

  “We will be fine. He can sit in my station and help till it gets busy, then play his games till you come back.”

  Adrian could have kissed him. “I really appreciate this, Suhail, thank you. Luke, do exactly as Suhail tells you and we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  “With Beatrice?”

  “Yes,” said Adrian, with false confidence. “With Beatrice. Oh, and please don’t say anything to your mum or granddad. It’s not fair to worry them.”

  Luke shook his head. “I won’t. The last thing we want is another heart attack on our hands.”

  The maturity of his phrasing amused Adrian, who had a powerful urge to give the boy a hug. Rather than make the departure too dramatic, he squeezed his shoulder instead. With one last grateful smile at Suhail, he rushed to catch up with Will, Russell and the man in the black beret.

  Chapter 30

  The storm had moved inland, leaving the city cooler and wetter as the rain let up and hints of brightness glowed on the horizon. Will hoped the cloud cover would blow away before dusk. Sunshine equalled hope.

  Even Russell’s driving style was different to Ettore’s. He propelled the car with a cool professionalism, his eyes assessing the environment from all angles. Will was fascinated as he spoke in Italian to Pietro without taking his eyes from the road. There was something of Jean Reno in that kindly face, steely nature combo. Will waited till they stopped talking.

  “Russell? What’s the deal here? Whose side are you on?”

  Russell’s eyes met his in the mirror for a second. “Mine, mate. I work for myself and my family, and that includes Agusto. Him and me go way back. When I came to Italy thirty years ago, a muscle-bound idiot looking for trouble, I got a job with the Colacino family. They trained me, taught me Italian, stopped me fighting in the streets and introduced me to my beautiful wife. I worked with them for twenty-eight years. Couple of years back, I retired
to spend more time with my girls, but I still do the occasional job for Agusto. He can always count on me. Listen, I want Beatrice back every bit as much as you do.”

  Adrian squeezed Will’s arm and asked a hundred questions with his eyes. Will had no answers. Other than meeting the police at the entrance to the yacht marina, none of them knew what would happen next.

  Once Pietro confirmed they were at the right gates, Russell drove straight past, turned around in a side street and double parked. “We’ll wait here for the police. Got to work together.” He continued to observe the area as if committing the whole place to memory.

  Minutes later, an unmarked car passed them and indicated right. Russell gunned the ignition, driving away smoothly and took the same route.

  At the gates, he got out. “Will, come with me. You two, stay put.”

  Will watched as Russell bent to address someone through the unmarked car’s passenger window. He introduced Will and pointing towards their car, indicated their passengers Adrian and Pietro. Russell straightened, gave the thumbs-up to the gatekeeper in his little cubicle and strode back to the car, Will right behind him.

  “Right, this is a bit bigger than I thought,” said Russell.

  The gates opened and the two cars moved as one, easing along the harbour towards the boat called Naiade. “The cops have been watching this lot for a while. They’re not saying why but the combination of forces involved says one thing to me.”

  “Drugs,” Will answered. “Marine police, detectives and special force? It’s either that or terrorism.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. The restaurant chain is nothing more than a sideline for a drug network. These people have bigger things on their minds than a couple of puddings. Undercover uniforms are waiting outside the entrance and a marine police vessel is coming to do ‘a routine check’. The police are going in, we’re to stay back.”