The bulk of the space was occupied by a large conference table and an imposing desk. Donus Cervelli, however, awaited them beside a small table. His smile was warm but there was no mistaking the lines of strain around his eyes.
“Mr. Chandler,” he greeted Will with a handshake then turned immediately to Liz, “and Ms. O’Neal. Welcome. Please sit. Would you prefer tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please,” Liz said while Will just shrugged.
Mr. Cervelli spent a little time in pleasantries, asking if she’d been to Rome previous to this trip, then asking her first impression when she admitted she had not. Liz found his accent pleasant. The chat lasted only as long as it took the young man to return with a coffee service and place it on the table in front of them. Behind him another man, somewhat more mature, carried a tray of breads and cheeses and pastries which he set beside the coffee service. He added a legal-size manilla envelope and the two exited silently.
“Please, enjoy,” Cervelli urged as he leaned back in his own chair with a cup of the strong, dark coffee. “Thank you for the return of the Catria.”
Will nodded. “It’s what you’re paying me to do.” The reminder was politely spoken. “And you’re paying me well. Failure is not an option for me.”
“I suspect it wouldn’t be an option for you even if you were doing this gratis. I’m sure you realize that discretion and efficiency cannot always be obtained from one source, regardless of the significance of the payment. I don’t take either aspect lightly. Nor does my government.”
“And Ms. O’Neal,” he turned his gaze to her, “I understand you were a substantial aid in ensuring the safety of the horse. I thank you for that.”
“He’s a beautiful animal, a noble one,” Liz said quietly. “I did it for him.”
“But you will be paid for your effort.” He glanced at Will.
“And, paid well,” Will assured. “She’s agreed to become part of my team until all of the horses have been returned to their homes.”
Liz noticed he ignored the look she shot him.
“That is good,” Mr. Cervelli nodded in satisfaction. His faint smile disappeared. “It is distressing that another disappears as one is returned.”
“The Ventasso,” Will said. “Number five.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll find him.”
“I hope before he is taken from the country. If that has not already happened.”
Judging by Will’s expression, Liz thought that hope might be futile.
“I’ve read the file you sent. Do you have any further information?”
Liz thought the unopened envelope was a serious hint that the answer would be yes.
Mr. Cervelli slid the envelope toward Will. “Not information. Photographs.”
Will opened it and studied the few photographs one at a time, handing each to Liz in turn. Because of the angle, they appeared to have been taken from above the men. Though the images were crystal clear, there would be little to distinguish the two men in a crowd. Both were dressed in dark clothes with caps pulled low. Both were of medium height, medium weight with dark eyes. Worse, their features were covered from the nose down by some kind of heavy scarves.
“From the night the Ventasso was taken?” Will asked as he passed the last of them to Liz.
“Yes. It’s the first time we’ve had real evidence of any kind. They may not be much help in the final analysis, but I wanted you to have them. In case.”
“Were there not any others?”
“These were all.”
“And nothing since then? No sightings? No suspicious trucks or trailers mentioned?”
Cervelli shook his head in discouragement. “Nothing.”
“I’ll add this to the information I forwarded to my team earlier. We’re on it.”
But Liz noticed he made no move to leave.
Cervelli drummed his fingertips upon the table. Once. Lightly. As if he were too refined to show frustration but desperately wanted to do just that.
* * *
Will waited. His gut warned him there was something yet to come.
“Before you visit our province of Reggio Emilia I request you make a trip to Florence. There’s a report of a sighting. The Tolfetano.”
“The fourth horse taken.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t mention a sighting in your email.”
“True.”
“Nor did you send me these photographs with the other information.”
“That, also, is true.”
Damn. “Who do you suspect?”
Cervelli shook his head. “No one and everyone. The villa is an historic building owned by the Italian government. It has been restored and is available to foreign dignitaries. Less often the individually wealthy with appropriate connections are permitted to use, as are families of our own who wish to visit the area.”
“I would assume the keys are closely monitored.”
“Of course, but …”
Yes. But. Will understood the unspoken. Nothing was completely secure these days. Clearly Cervelli was now concerned there could be some involvement with a government official. At the very least, he saw it as a possibility.
Cervelli passed a key and a tiny slip of paper across the table.
Will glanced at the paper, noted the address, and tucked both items in his pocket as he got to his feet. “I’ll be in touch.”
Liz stood when he did.
As they reached the door, Cervelli spoke again. “We were fortunate that the Catria found his way to Summer Valley Ranch when his health was so direly at risk. I grow increasingly concerned for the well-being of the other stallions.”
Will recognized the plea for reassurance but he wouldn’t make false promises. He had his own concerns. “The case is not just my top priority. It’s my only priority until resolved.”
Cervelli nodded.
As they stepped out into the sunshine, Liz paused at the top of the broad expanse of steps leading down to the streets. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Will remembered his own first visit to the country, his awareness of standing on ground where an ancient empire rose and fell centuries before America got her start as a nation.
On an impulse he said, “We’ll wait until dark to leave for Florence. What is the one place in Rome you want most to see?”
He’d expected her to say the Colosseum but she answered, “Trevi Fountain,” with no hesitation.
He smiled as they started down the steps to the street where he’d parked the bike. “Three Coins in a Fountain?”
“La Dolce Vita,” she corrected his assumption with a sideways grin.
This unexpected side of her drew a chuckle from him as he recalled a big screen image of Marcello Mastroianni watching Anita Ekberg beckon him into the waters. “Trevi Fountain, it is.”
* * *
The sun sparkled on the water as Liz struggled to see the fountain as it once had been. She couldn’t. A hoard of tourists pressed close on every side, the sights and sounds and smells of them pre-dominating. Even so, she could feel the magic of standing in a place she’d never thought to be, of seeing a treasure she’d never thought to see and likely never would again. The baroque fountain itself was only a few centuries old but the water source was ancient, dating back before Christ, with the first fountain built during the Renaissance. She’d spent some time online the previous evening, looking at the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, and the Spanish Steps. The Trevi Fountain had appealed to her as swiftly as the history of the Colosseum had repelled her. Man pitted against man or man against beast and, win or lose, in the end neither survived.
Despite the crowd, Will deftly maneuvered them down to the low wall surrounding the fountain where he ignored the police who blew whistles each time they saw someone sitting on the wall or reaching a hand into the water. “Quick,” he urged as he helped her scoot up to the wall’s broad ledge where he swiftly snapped a photograph of her laughing down at him, the waters of the fountain spa
rkling in the air around behind her.
Will didn’t have many such carefree moments in his life. He suspected the same was true of Liz. He’d send the photograph to her so that she’d have a memory to share with others. Then he’d delete it. Of course.
When he handed her a coin to toss, Liz slid from the wall and dug one from her own pocket instead. “No, it should be one of mine.”
They both turned their backs and tossed their coins into the fountain behind them. Just one. To ensure a return to Rome. Neither threw a second for romance or a third for marriage. Not that Will believed in the legend at all. This wasn’t his first trip to Italy but it was his first coin tossed into the waters of the fountain. He liked to think Liz would return one day.
* * *
The hum of Will’s motorbike rouses me from my slumber. And, yes, to any doubters, I can distinguish the motorized vehicles of my humans from any number of similar equipages around them. And it is as true for any of my temporary humans. My eyes blink at the onslaught of the afternoon sun but adjust sufficiently to watch as Will parks more thoughtfully than some around him have done. I note a tiny blue sedan with one motorbike parked perpendicular to the front bumper and another to the rear as well. Hopefully the small car’s owner has no plans to depart soon.
Uh-oh. My eyes narrow as I watch two motorbikes pull onto the sidewalk itself. The riders do not dismount. Instead they watch as my unaware humans walk across the street to the front entrance of our hotel. Their general appearance isn’t dodgy—simple jeans and tee-shirts with not much place to hide a firearm of any size—and they are, by far, not the only bikers in sight but I mislike when they swing their legs over their bikes and brace their shoulders against the wall behind them in matching stances. It would appear they’re settling in for the long haul. Or a lengthy surveillance.
Their presence could be happenstance. They may not be watching Liz and Will as closely as it appears. But I’ve my doubts of either being the case. What I don’t understand is why Will doesn’t seem to notice them. The man has been splendidly watchful this entire trip. Until now.
I slip back through the small door that allows me to access the terrace and am waiting inside our temporary abode as Liz and Will step into our suite. I get one glimpse of Will looking at Liz and groan inaudibly. I hiss and bat at his pants leg. Hopefully my actions to date have gained me some credibility with him.
I’m pleased to see his eyes narrow in speculation. He takes a step forward. Yes, yes, hurry along. I bat at him again. With his next step, I’m satisfied he’ll follow as I dart back toward the terrace opening. As he reaches for the door knob, I hiss again.
Will looks down at me and nods, then says to Liz, “I think Trouble wants me to look at something or someone but doesn’t want it to appear obvious that I’m looking. Walk out toward the center of the patio then turn back and wait. I’m going to step out and we’ll have a bit of a conversation as I scan the buildings and the street behind you.”
Oh, good man! It will appear that he is simply chatting not surveilling the street below. I may even forgive his lapse of caution. After a bit.
* * *
“Don’t look anxious,” Will cautioned. He watched as Liz took a deep breath and managed a pleasant expression. “That’s perfect.”
She took a few steps out and lifted her face to the sky as if enjoying the day. She even reached a hand down to stroke Trouble’s head but he noted it trembled slightly. This wasn’t her world, Will reminded himself. But it was his and he was angry that he’d dropped his guard and missed whatever Trouble had seen.
Liz took another step or two and turned. “Is this good? Am I far enough out?”
Will moved so that he was at the doorway. “For the moment.” He scanned the buildings behind him, paying attention to the windows. Most were open to the sunlight but a few remained shuttered as they’d all been at daybreak. “Step closer to the wall and gesture for me to come closer.”
He would have laughed at Liz’s grimace if his mood hadn’t tanked with Trouble’s greeting upon their arrival. Without a doubt, she didn’t relish the role of actress. Even so, she did as he asked and he moved to stand beside her.
“Point toward the roof of the building across the street.” Again, she did what he needed her to do. Will made a show of shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun which allowed him to drop his gaze briefly to the pavement below. And there they were. Watching and waiting. Damn.
One more move. “Turn with me in the opposite direction. I’m going to point at a different roofline. We’ll look that way a moment, then I want you to wave back at our suite as if we have company. Then we’ll walk that way.”
Moments later, they were inside with the door closed. Liz glared at him. “That felt ridiculous.”
“I really am sorry but feeling ridiculous for a moment or two might keep them lulled enough we can slip away without a tail.”
“How? They’re right across from the front entrance.”
He’d briefly considered and discarded the idea of calling Cervelli for an assist. Somehow, he had to get his bike moved as well as find a way to get both of them on it unhindered. The best it would do would be to give them a head start but a few minutes grace was better than the nothing they had now.
He looked at the black cat then back at Liz. “I have a plan and Trouble will be our decoy.”
She lifted a brow at him and he shrugged. “So, I’m a cat whisperer.”
* * *
Moments before dark, Liz walked out of the hotel a few steps in front of Will. She was careful not to look around. Although she didn’t see the two guys that had followed them, she didn’t doubt they were there. Even wearing her backpack with her duffle slung over one shoulder, she still managed to hold her tablet as if perusing some interesting something on the screen rather than watching her step. Trouble followed on her heels.
Without looking, she knew Will would pretend to answer a call on his cell, slowing his steps as they’d planned. When she neared the door of the restaurant where they’d eaten the night before, Will stopped on the sidewalk and called her name. She took a deep breath as she looked back at him. She wasn’t adept at role-playing and she knew it.
“I’ll be there in ten or so. Order me a steak and beer.” When she nodded and turned to go, he called after her. “Be sure to put the cat in the duffle before you go in. I don’t want another scene.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I will but he’s too heavy to carry that distance.” She hoped her voice held the tinge of annoyance she intended. All she felt was absurd.
Will gave a casual wave in her direction. She watched as he crossed traffic before she shrugged and walked on toward the restaurant. She didn’t see anyone watching but didn’t doubt they were.
At the door of the restaurant, she stooped to run her hand down Trouble’s back and put a finger to her lips as she cast a deliberately guilty look down the street. No way would the cat fit in with their essentials, including Will’s laptop, but she had to at least look as if she were supposed to make that happen. Will swung a leg over his bike and Liz straightened and walked inside where she took a seat in the back.
When the waitress approached, she ordered an Aperol Spritz. She’d never heard of the drink before last night but, after only one, she’d decided it was her new favorite. Trouble sat tensely on the floor beside her. When he growled deep in his throat, she glanced up to see the taller of their tails walk through the door and her heart sank although she’d more than half expected one of them would show up. He chose a tiny table across from her, close enough to hear her, close enough to grab her if she made a wrong move.
Sipping her drink, she forced herself to sit quietly as street lights slowly brightened in response to the gathering dark of night.
She took a long time over the menu, finally ordering calamari pasta for herself and a steak for Will, adding a request that the order be held fifteen minutes. She felt a twinge of guilt that the meals wouldn’t be eaten alt
hough Will would doubtless make sure the restaurant received payment at some point.
Before the young woman turned to go, Liz asked, “Can you tell me where best to shop for a new outfit? My friend and I’ve been invited to some kind of fancy reception tonight. I’ve only got jeans and such.”
The girl was a willing conversationalist on the topic of shopping, returning to Liz’s table between trips caring for the other diners, including the guy who’d managed to fade into the woodwork with a fair amount of skill. In fact, Liz wasn’t sure she would’ve noticed him at all if Trouble hadn’t tipped her off. By the time Will’s text flashed on her screen he looked as glassy-eyed with boredom as she could have hoped but she still wasn’t sure how to get past him, even with Trouble’s help. She had five minutes before Will’s next text. Five minutes to figure it out.
She made a show of putting her tablet in her backpack, adding a surreptitious movement that placed its weight over the back of her chair. Four and a half minutes later, she said a prayer and leaned down as if to check on the cat. “Will is going to be out front in about thirty seconds,” she whispered. “I need you to make for the door.”
As soon as she straightened back in her chair, Trouble started walking toward the front. Leaning, she grabbed her duffle as she muttered loudly, “Damn cat. In the bag he goes.”
When she got to her feet, the backpack she’d been careful to catch on the back of her seat flipped the chair over in the aisle. With a quick move, she added the small table to the chaos for good measure. If Will wasn’t out front as planned, she was sunk.
The toppling of the table and curses from one of their guests, had both the waitress and the busboy running their way. Heart pounding, Liz looked the waitress in the eye and mouthed, “Help me,” jerking her head at the man cursing behind her. Then she bolted for the door, praying sisterhood would come into play.
A Whisper of Trouble Page 8