The Italian Deception

by Darby Philips

Abelie nodded tentatively.

  “Good,” he said. “I wanted to tell you that if anyone ever comes looking for you, or if you need anything...” He held the object—a business card—toward her and she took it. “Call that number. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Abelie looked suspicious. “Okay.”

  He turned to leave, but turned back. He stared at the baby and smiled, a sad smile full of what might have been. “If things had gone the way he’d planned, you two would have been very happy together.”

  Abelie choked up, tears on her face.

  Luther trotted down the steps and headed to his truck.

  Shelly tossed the electronic ears onto her back seat and ducked behind the dashboard. She didn’t think Luther was the traitor. And judging by the way he spoke about Marco, the dead agent, she thought he knew something. Her instinct told her it was something that could help. But if she spoke to him, it would expose her surveillance to an outsider.

  As Luther walked around the front of his truck, she realized she had no choice. He was her only lead now. She scooted over the middle console and exited the passenger side door. Since the agent sat in the driver’s seat, Shelly duck-walked down the side of the truck. She drew her gun, opened the door, and sat in the passenger seat.

  Luther stared at her. He saw the gun and didn’t flinch. “After all this time, I didn’t think it could be a trap.”

  “I know. But I’m not here for you.”

  His eyes searched her. Analyzing. “I’ve seen you before.” He paused and his mouth opened in surprise. “You work for the agency.”

  Shelly didn’t want to confirm anything. Some people might think her investigation illegal. “I’ll talk, just listen,” Shelly said. “Several agents have died pursuing the Ndrangheta in Italy. Individually, it looks like the agents exposed themselves somehow. When you analyze the pattern, however, it has to be a mole in the agency. I’m trying to find that traitor. I’ve got a list of names. You were on it. But I heard what you said, and you aren’t the one I’m looking for. Now, I need to know if there’s anything that you didn’t put down in the report.”

  They sat together in the car. Silence hung between them.

  When Luther spoke, his voice was calm and analytical. “Marco learned the Ndrangheta recruited foreign officials to inform them of any operations against their interests. He searched for the one who ran the spies. He narrowed his location to Rome, but couldn’t get close. Almost by chance, he discovered one reference to him: the flower man.”

  Shelly gestured with the gun for him to go on.

  “I didn’t put any of this in the report because our reports were shared with other agencies and I didn’t know who might see it. When Marco was killed and Abelie told me how they’d come for him, I realized there was a traitor. I searched for months but came up with nothing.” He sighed. “That was years ago. Life went on. And I’m ashamed to admit that I stopped searching.”

  Shelly knew what he said sounded plausible. Of course, it could all be a carefully constructed lie to deflect suspicion from him. But he was her only lead. “Is there anything else?”

  Luther shook his head.

  Shelly glanced around. More cars were on the road. People driving home from work. She needed to leave. She turned back to Luther and said, “You could go back to your office and try to learn who I am, but you’d warn the traitor. You could also restart your investigation, which might also warn the traitor. I’m asking you to let me handle it.” She got out of the car. Before she shut the door, Luther said, “You can’t expect me to do nothing.”

  “For now, that’s exactly what I’m asking.” She closed the door and walked back to her car.

  As she drove away, she realized Luther’s information, if accurate, allowed her to shift her focus. Instead of focusing on the U.S. agents she suspected, she could search for their contact, the Ndrangheta spymaster in Italy. She only had the one clue about his identity, but she thought there was a way to narrow it down. She dialed Tom Forton and prepared to ask him for what she needed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Paul ran behind Erin Randolph. She had already lapped him once and, on her second time, she started to slow down.

  “Don’t do it,” he said. They were on their third mile and his legs felt like concrete pilings. Erin’s fluid movements showed she was in much better shape.

  Erin looked at him with a playful smile.

  “I know you’re slowing down,” Paul wheezed between breaths. “Don’t. If I can’t keep pace, it’ll make me run faster.”

  “A man who wants a woman to challenge him. I like it,” she said, resuming her normal speed.

  Paul watched her go and lamented that a year ago he could have kept her pace. He was comforted by the fact that he was improving.

  He also felt more like his old self. The man before his undercover work. When he’d first spoken to Erin in the cafeteria, he’d put a wall between them. Tonight, he’d let his wall down. Resurrected his past confidence and compassion. And Erin had become flirty in response.

  He felt a twinge in his right calf. It wasn’t painful, so he powered through it. The twinge grew into a knot. He looked at Erin running with strong, even breaths and solid strides on her long legs, and his male pride flared like a peacock’s feathers. His brain, however, slapped it down. If he continued to run, he’d injure myself, so he slowed to a stop and walked to the stretching area.

  “You quitting already?” Erin said.

  Paul loved the fact that she playfully needled his male ego to make him improve. He smiled at her and said, “My right calf became twitchy. Figured it was best to ease up so I can run tomorrow.”

  She nodded and stopped.

  “Nope,” he said, pointing my finger at the track. “Do not stop your workout on my account.”

  She smiled again. “I’ve got two more miles.”

  He nodded and stumbled to the corner mat and stretched. As he waited for her to finish, he thought about what she’d said the other day. That he was too cold. Too distant. He’d tried to correct that tonight. But he worried that he still hadn’t addressed the real reason for his emotional distance. He thought about how he’d had to bury his emotions to cope with his father’s spousal abuse and again in his undercover work to keep his identity intact. He’d only let his guard down with Portia. And she’d scraped out his heart with a fork.

  He glanced at Erin and realized spending time with her and helping David had done more to break the emotional isolation of his past than anything or anyone else.

  As Erin finished her run, Paul’s phone chirped. He didn’t get many messages, so he thought it might be important. He flicked to the texting app and read Chuck’s message. “Shit,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Chuck heard Haverford questioned David today and learned about the self-defense classes.”

  “Carlyle will freak. He thinks anyone who learns how to fight will become a killer.”

  “Crap,” he said.

  His phone chirped again. He read the text and his night got worse.

  “Who was that?”

  “Haverford,” he said. “He wants to see me immediately.”

  She pulled on her coat. “You’ll need a wingman.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know. But Carlyle is manipulative. If he knows about David’s self-defense, then he’ll know we’re running together. He’ll exaggerate this instance because of me.”

  Paul started to object again, but remembered his last run-in with him where he stated any other incident would get him fired. He realized her presence would not only calm Haverford, but keep him honest.

  “He’s not above doing that,” she said.

  “Let’s go.”

  They jogged out of the gym and ran to the main building. As they entered the administration office, Paul searched for David. He thought it unlikely Haverford would have him here, but wouldn’t put it past him. Thankfully, the office was empty.

  The assis
tant principal’s door stood open, so they entered. His office was paneled in hard wood, with expensive bookshelves, a huge desk, and leather chairs. Haverford sat behind his desk in slacks and a dress shirt. He looked like less of a prick without his tie and corduroy jacket. He glanced at Paul and smiled mischievously, but when he saw Erin walk in behind him, the smile died.

  “You wanted to see me?” Paul asked.

  His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Erin and Paul in matching, sweaty gym clothes.

  “Did you teach David martial arts?” Haverford asked.

  “Yes, so he can protect himself.”

  “How dare you. Hillcrest does not teach students to harm others.” There was anger and indignation in his voice, but it seemed over the top. “How do you even know martial arts? It isn’t on your resume.”

  Oops. “It’s required for all employees who serve overseas.” Technically, by omitting which agency required martial arts training, it wasn’t a lie.

  Haverford started typing on his laptop. “So you knowingly taught a student a deadly skill?”

  Paul’s fists clenched. Anger burned inside him. “You’re twisting the situation, and you know it. It was clear Kevin gave him the black eye, and the only thing you did was give Kevin—and his victim, I might add—one day of in-school suspension. That won’t stop a bully.”

  He shot up out of his seat. “How dare you question my judgement,” he said with real indignation. “I’m…” His eyes flicked to Erin.

  She sat there with her arms folded, leaning against the back wall.

  Paul didn’t know what he would have said if she wasn’t in the room. He had two fears: that he’d do something to David to get back at him and that he might dig deep into his resume and find out he’d been an undercover agent rather than a State Department employee.

  He took a deep breath, calmed himself, and sat back down. “Regardless of what you think of previous matters, the fact remains that you taught a student martial arts. An unsanctioned activity that, by its very nature, is violent and, thus, encourages violence.” He began typing again. “I’m suspending you pending a formal hearing by the board on Monday.”

  “That’s bull…”

  Erin put a warning hand on his arm. “That’s not right. He taught David how to defend himself,” she said. “I watched him do it. It was a simple leg sweep, a move that cannot be executed unless he’s being attacked.”

  Paul stared at her, proud that she was defending him. Her eyes, however, focused on Haverford.

  “You knew?” he said. The asshat principalis opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. Paul could almost see his mind calculating options. “That doesn’t change the outcome of Paul’s actions. I’m suspending him. He’s to have no contact with students until the board hearing.”

  “And I’ll be there to tell them what I know, and what I suspect,” she said.

  “You know teachers can’t speak to the Board directly,” he said.

  “I do,” she replied. “That’s why I’ll contact a few alumni I know and ask them speak on my behalf.”

  “Erin,” he said, moving around the desk and reaching for her. His tone was placating. Condescending.

  “No, Carlyle,” she said, moving away from him.

  They stared at each other. A contest of wills. He trying to get her to side with him, her sticking to her previous position of supporting David and Paul.

  “Don’t get in the middle of this, Erin. I don’t want you to suffer the same fate as Paul.”

  The threat was clear. She might lose her job if she helped him.

  “And you know better than to tell me what to do,” she said. “I’m going to help him. Come on, Paul.”

  Paul followed Erin into the hall. It was empty. As they moved out of the admin office, everything was silent. Only a few lights illuminated the area.

  He thought about Haverford convincing the board to fire him. That wouldn’t start until after the holidays, which were around the time of the trial. It would mean days in jail but, more importantly, no access to Jacob or Shelly. It meant he had to remember everything now, which had proved impossible up to this point. Then he thought of David. The boy still had a lot to learn and seemingly no one else to help him.

  Erin didn’t say anything until they were outside. “I’m sorry. I think my challenging him made it worse.”

  Paul knew she’d risked her own job at Hillcrest to help him. No one else other than Shelly had ever put him before them like that. “Are you kidding?” he said. “You had my back. That was awesome.”

  She smiled and put her arm through his as they walked slowly back to the dorm. A cold wind blew across them. They instinctively moved closer. And their closeness pushed the thoughts about his future to the side.

  Erin stared at the stars as they walked. She seemed on the cusp of revealing something. He thought remaining silent was what she needed.

  “A year ago, I was working as an advertising executive in New York. The job paid well, but it made me feel empty. I finally realized I didn’t want to trick people into buying stuff they didn’t need. A family friend suggested teaching at Hillcrest as a way to find out what I really wanted to do with my life.

  “I moved in over the summer and met Haverford. He was very attractive and well-spoken and seemed to genuinely listen to issues I was going through, so we started dating. It took me a long while to realize that he was only listening to me so he could use that information to manipulate me. It was little things at first, like convincing me to do what he wanted instead of things I wanted. Eventually, he tried to get me to change my opinions into ones he believed. Each time I resisted, he’d bring up the hopes and fears I’d shared with him and use it as a hook to bring me around to his point of view.”

  The cast iron lampposts seemed unusually bright tonight.

  “Sounds like he really did a number on you.”

  She cocked her head and looked at him. “Yes and no. He did manipulate me. But by questioning him, I learned to respect myself and my beliefs. I’m much more confident in who I am and what I want because I dated him.”

  Paul understood her. And, in a way, she was describing his experience with Portia. He stared into her eyes and suddenly wanted to share some of my past. “I…was in a relationship a little like that. I thought she was everything I wanted, but it turned out that she was someone completely different.” Even though it was only two sentences, it was hard for him to get it all out.

  She squeezed his arm twice. A gesture that she approved of him sharing. “To this day, I don’t know if she was pretending to be what I wanted, or if I was making her into what I wanted by ignoring all the little signs that showed she was someone wholly different.”

  “Then you understand.”

  He did, but while her experience left her more empowered, his had had the opposite effect. But he realized talking about it with her, and with Jacob, allowed him to repair some of the damage Portia had done.

  They arrived at the path that diverged toward the two dorms.

  “I enjoyed this,” Erin said, releasing his arms.

  “You mean me getting suspended and Haverford threatening to fire you?”

  She laughed. “No. You and me, sharing our past.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  “Since you’re suspended, what are you doing for the weekend?”

  “I don’t know.” In truth, he hadn’t thought about it. Maybe he could call Jacob and plan some sessions. He needed to do something else, something different, to try to remember because his freedom to do so might be gone soon.

  “Why don’t we go out tomorrow night? Somewhere in town, away from all this.”

  “I’d really like that.”

  “Good. I’ll text you tomorrow,” she said, starting down the path. After a few steps, she turned around and walked back to him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  He was stunned at first. This was the first time he’d kissed anyone since Portia. But with that realization came an
understanding that his past was in his past. Erin was the present, and maybe the future.

  Once he accepted that, he focused on Erin’s soft, small kisses. As her tongue gently parted his lips, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Their embrace became more passionate. He was conscious of snow falling lightly on his face, of the trees swaying in the cold wind, and the warmth coming from Erin as their tongues caressed. His focus narrowed onto their kiss. He lost track of time.

  They slowly disengaged. They both stood there, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Wow,” she said, her arms still around his neck.

  “I haven’t kissed anyone like that in a long time,” he said. He knew it was a stupid thing to say, but it was honest. And he wanted her to know that she was important to him.

  “You certainly put Carlyle to shame,” she said, smiling.

  They both laughed at that, and the sound echoed off the dorm walls. They both heard it and it made them laugh harder.

  She patted his chest and said, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.” She turned and walked toward the girls’ dorm.

  He watched her go and turned toward his dorm, thinking acceptance might not be so hard after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Franco lay at the edge of the tree line facing the dormitories of Hillcrest Academy. He’d driven from New York state slowly, pausing at an internet café in a small town to research the school. His initial problem had been how to find Paul Taylor on an open school campus without anyone seeing him. Fortunately, the school website had provided the answer. It listed Paul Taylor as a teacher who resided in the boy’s dorm. It also displayed a campus map.

  Franco had purchased camping gear, maps, and a snowmobile and set off in the late afternoon to survey the campus. Around dusk, he’d found this vantage point. It had a clear view of anyone going into or coming out of the dorms.

  He’d surveilled everyone for hours and finally thought his wait was over. He zoomed his hunting binoculars in on a couple kissing under a lamp.

  He waited until the woman left and the man turned toward him. Paul Taylor, the man he’d known as Dario Giomani.