He sipped some wine and glanced out the window. The sky had darkened. The snow storm had intensified, and wind rattled the window. He let his mind drift. After a few moments, an image of the morning sunrise appeared in his mind’s eye. After a few minutes, he was back in Italy, rolling Eric off the dock. They splashed into the freezing ocean. Salt water stung his eyes and burned his neck and shoulder gashes. Exhaustion racked his body. Shots cracked over the water like thunder and …
A knock on the door yanked him back to Hillcrest. He mentally cursed. He was so frustrated with being interrupted every time he was about to make a breakthrough. His frustration quickly ebbed as he realized who it was and opened the door.
Erin stood in the hallway. She looked amazing in slacks, a stylish sweater, and a jacket.
“This feels a little like being back in college, doesn’t it?” she said.
He gestured for her to come in. “It does. But college for me was cheap beer and cold pizza.”
She surveyed the meal prep. “You outdid yourself.”
He helped her take off her jacket and handed her a glass of wine. “I wish I could say it was all me. Chuck hooked us up. I don’t know where he got it all.”
“He’s always seemed like a great guy. What my mom would call ‘salt of the earth.’”
They clinked glasses. “You’re right.”
She inspected the wine label. “I think I can guess where the wine came from. That’s Haverford’s favorite vineyard. He always keeps a few bottles in the dining hall cellar.”
He laughed. “That is awesome. I’m going to have to get Chuck a bottle of Maker’s Mark for that.”
She rolled her eyes, but smiled as she did it. “I like this version of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re more open. Even more than you’ve been the past couple of days.”
A moment of expectation passed between them. He got the impression that she was deciding something.
“I spoke with your goddaughter the other day,” she said.
“What did you two talk about?”
“She asked me how you know if someone liked you?”
He laughed. “David asked me the same thing.”
“What did you tell him?” she asked.
“That’s there’s no real way to tell except to observe and learn from experience.”
“That’s the only way?” she asked, moving closer. Her body brushed against his. He stared into her green eyes. They looked bright and eager.
“Well, unless someone does something really obvious…”
She kissed him. A long, slow, soft kiss that seemed to go on forever.
Eventually, they pulled apart.
“Is that obvious enough for you?” she said.
“Well, I am a guy.”
She laughed and they embraced.
They kissed again and the only thing on his mind was her tongue dancing with his. His heart pounded in his chest. She slipped her hand down his back. Their embrace became passionate.
The heavy whine of snowmobile engines approaching the school interrupted them. The sound was so unexpected in the snow storm that they both looked out the window. “Who’s on snowmobiles in this weather?” she asked.
Four points of light brightened in the snow as they raced toward the school. They stopped between the dorms. The engines cut off, but the headlamps stayed on. The light illuminated the vague outlines of four people as they marched toward the school in the thick snow. Light glinted off the metal of a long barrel.
Chapter Sixty
Paul’s stomach shrank to a hard ball. He’d spent two years undercover with the Grimaldis. He’d never forget the way they stood. The way they moved. He didn’t know how they were here, but he knew they’d kill everyone in their path just to make a point.
He shoved Erin toward the door. “We have to get the kids out of here.”
“Don’t push me like that,” she said, resisting him.
He had to make Erin understand the danger, because he needed her help to save everyone. He grabbed her by both shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I used to be an undercover agent. Those people are here to kill me, and they’ll murder everyone on campus to get me. Do you understand?”
Her eyes went wide as if she thought he was crazy.
“You understand now,” he said. “All my secrecy? It’s because I was hiding.” He thrust his finger at the window. “From them!”
Her eyes focused. She nodded. “What do we do?”
He grabbed her hand and they burst out of Chuck’s door.
“We have to save the students.” They dashed down the hall and into the stairwell. “The Grimaldis are here for me, but they won’t want witnesses.” They ran into the lobby and headed for the center door which led down to the rec room.
They had seconds before the Grimaldis entered the building. “When we get the students,” he said, plunging down the basement stairs, “take them to the girls’ dorm. Put them in the furnace room and jam the door shut. You’re the best runner I know. Get to the caretaker’s hut. He has a ham radio. Turn the dial to 462.675 and keep repeating the phrase, ‘Terrorists at Hillcrest Academy. No joke. Need immediate assistance,’ until someone answers, you got that?”
“Yes,” she said. “462.675. Got it.”
As they burst into the rec room, most of the students lounged on the two couches and watched a teen movie about vampires. David was among them. Others sat together and talked. Paul spied Tiffany talking with Kevin.
All the students stared at them when they entered the room.
Chuck stood at the far edge of the room on his tiptoes and looked out the small rectangular window. “Do they have shotguns?” he said absently.
“Chuck!” Paul yelled.
Chuck’s head whipped from Paul to the four figures marching toward the building in the snow. He understood.
“Grab your coats,” Paul yelled. “Follow Erin and Chuck.”
Students looked around in puzzlement. David, seeming to sense his urgency, was the first to move. He stood next to Erin.
“Now!” Paul yelled at the top of his lungs. The other students started slowly moving. He wanted to scream that armed men had come for them, but he didn’t want to start a panic.
Chuck herded students forward. “Stay close. We’re gonna be scratchin’ gravel.”
As the students moved into a line behind Erin, Paul leaned close to David and said, “Erin is going to lock everyone into the furnace room. I need you to keep everyone there.” The boy looked scared, but a controlled scared, like his mind was analyzing everything. “Your goal is to keep them safe.” He looked into his eyes. “Do you understand?”
He nodded slowly. “GOAD.”
“Yes,” Paul said.
Kevin and Tiffany stood next to the chair they’d been sitting on. Kevin puffed up his chest, then said, “This is bullshit. I’m staying here.”
Paul glared at them. “Get in line. Follow Erin. Now!” They grabbed their coats and joined the other students.
“Erin,” Paul said, “run.”
She led the students up the stairs.
Chuck swooped in behind the students. Paul brought up the rear. He leaned toward Chuck. “You’re a mountain boy. As soon as the students are safe, I need you to sneak around to their snowmobiles. Steal one and go to a ranger station or police station. We won’t survive long if you don’t get help.”
“Roger that,” he said. It was a military expression. Paul didn’t think he’d been in the military.
They were moving too slowly. “Hurry,” Paul yelled. As he entered the lobby, he saw Erin leading students out the side exit.
The front door opened. He spun.
Giovanni marched inside. He spotted Paul and fired his shotgun.
The pellets missed, but red splotches splattered Paul’s shirt.
Chuck tumbled back down the stairs, tufts of bloody coat insulation spewing everywhere. A direct hit to the chest from a shotgun. Students screamed a
nd scrambled out the door.
Time slowed. Paul felt anguish he’d failed to protect Chuck. And he knew that if he didn’t embrace every bit of his training, every aspect of his past, none of them would survive. He calculated probabilities.
Time. That’s what they needed. Time for students to hide. Time for Erin to call for help.
But he couldn’t count on help in this storm. The only option that offered even a chance of the students getting through this alive was if he kept the Grimaldis focused on him.
Even with his training, he didn’t see how he could survive the night. But the longer it took them to kill him, the more likely it would be that Erin could get help, and the less likely it would be they’d find the students.
Time sped back up. Giovanni angled his shotgun toward him. Portia entered and raised her pistol. Paul changed direction and ran for the stairs at the end of the lobby, away from Erin and the kids.
They fired.
Chapter Sixty-One
Paul dodged and weaved. A shotgun blast went wide. Portia’s bullets slammed into the paneling above and behind him. He dashed into the left stairwell and up the stairs.
As he entered the first floor hallway, he tried to lock the door, but it was a push bar lock and he didn’t have the key. Terrible for what he had planned, but he couldn’t do anything about that. He knew they’d chase him, but they’d spend time organizing a coordinated attack so he couldn’t escape. That gave him precious seconds he desperately needed.
He ran down the hall, randomly opening and slamming doors. The Grimaldis would have to look in every room to clear it before moving forward. It was a game of hide and seek now.
He darted into the right stairwell, leaped up the stairs to the second floor, and sprinted down the hall, opening and closing more doors.
In Chuck’s room, he found a backpack, and grabbed everything he could possibly use as a weapon or to create one.
Dashing into the hall, he knelt behind the right stairwell door. He rested the propane canister from the Hibachi upside down against the door handle. Then he wedged matches into the door crack just below the canister’s valve. He securely taped both items to the inside doorframe and quickly appraised his work.
If anyone opened the door, the matches would spark. The propane would ignite and cause a hell of an explosion. He cracked the valve on the propane canister and ran down the hall.
Pushing through the left hallway door and in front of it, he dipped twine into Chuck’s bottle of bourbon. Then he secured the alcohol-laden twine underneath the cork cap and taped the bottle on top of the push bar handle. He fastened matches along the inside doorjamb from the floor to the bottle, winding the twine between the matches.
The booby trap was simple. Opening the door scraped the matches. They ignited the string. The bottle went boom in a shower of flames and jagged glass.
Paul carefully closed the door and listened. The Grimaldis were searching student rooms one floor below him.
He inched to the edge of the landing and glanced down. Portia stood on the landing below.
Smart, he thought. She and probably Antonio would surveil each stairwell to make sure he didn’t escape while Giovanni and Franco searched each floor. Once they’d cleared the hallway, they’d move to the one above it. No way he could escape past them. His only option was up.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Erin stood in the concrete basement underneath the girls’ dorm door and ushered the students into the furnace room. They shook with terror. Some cried, others whimpered.
“This is a joke, right?” Kevin said, walking into the small concrete space.
“No,” Erin said. She didn’t want the students in a panic, but she needed them to understand the danger. “Mr. Fitzgerald is dead.”
More students cried. Some muttered words of panic.
She banged on the furnace door. “It’s iron. You’ll be safe in here,” she said. Her eyes passed over the students. David seemed unusually alert. Almost like he was analyzing the situation rather than feeling it. She leaned down and said, “David. Make sure to keep them as quiet as you can, okay?”
He nodded then said, “GOAD. Mr. Taylor said my goal was to keep them safe.”
She ruffled his hair. “Exactly.”
“Where are you going?” Tiffany asked.
“To get help. I’ll be back as soon as I can. No matter what happens, stay behind this door.”
Erin tried to pull the door closed, but it barely moved.
“Help me,” she said, and David and two girls pushed the door while Erin pulled. The large metal door scraped across the floor and closed with a bang. She turned to run as soon as the bolt slid home.
As she dashed out of the basement, she thought of Paul. He was in the boys’ dorm all alone against four armed intruders. She guessed he’d do everything he could to keep the terrorists at bay, but didn’t know how long he could hold out. He was only one man.
The freezing wind and snow blasted her as she exited the building. The sky was dark. Snow blew in swirling patterns as it fell. The air bit her face and hands. She remembered the direction to Ralph Chapel’s cottage and rushed forward. The snow was up to her knees, and she ran like she was jumping over low hurdles.
The cold seeped through her clothes. They were too thin and she hadn’t grabbed a jacket. She’d dressed for a date, not cross-country running. Her shoes were wrong too. At least she’d worn flats instead of her Jimmy Choos.
She surveyed the campus. Everything was covered in white. The buildings were dark. The cast iron lamp posts lined the snow covered brick paths like soldiers, but their light looked like fireflies.
Questions about Paul flew through her mind. What did she really know about him? She thought again about Paul fending off four armed people to save her and the students, and how fast he’d made the decision to save others before himself. That was all she needed to know about him. Whatever he’d done, or whoever he used to be, none of that mattered now. She wasn’t going to let him fight those people alone.
The cold air burned her nose and lungs. Each exhale looked like a billow of smoke as she struggled through the snow. The freezing temperatures would kill her if she stayed outside too long.
She glimpsed the caretaker’s cottage and sprinted the last hundred feet. As she reached the door, she banged on it and shouted, “Ralph! Let me in! It’s an emergency.” Her fingers felt numb and melted snow sloshed in her shoes.
“Ralph!” she yelled, as she pounded on the door again. “Let me in! I have to use the radio!”
She thought she heard a loud thud, as if someone had rolled out of bed and hit the floor. She breathed on her hands in an attempt to warm up. “Ralph!”
Finally, the door cracked open and Erin burst through, knocking Ralph Chapel backward. “Where’s your radio?” she said as she surveyed the square room. A recliner and TV rested along the back wall, an old wood stove sat on the left, and tall shelves hugged the right wall. On the middle shelf sat what looked like a radio.
It was a large black box with an LCD display in the middle and dozens of buttons and knobs across the front. It reminded her of a complicated stereo receiver. She dashed toward it, found the power switch, and pressed it.
The device crackled then emitted static. She wound the round dial until it displayed 462.675, then searched for a microphone or anything she could speak into, but couldn’t find one.
“How do you speak into it?” she asked over her shoulder.
No response.
She turned. Ralph Chapel stood staring at her with bloodshot eyes. He swayed slightly on his feet and looked every bit like he’d just woken up from a drinking binge.
“People with guns are on campus,” Erin said. “Cell phones don’t work. We need to call for help! Where is the microphone?”
Ralph stumbled toward her. Erin thought he was going to show her how to operate the radio and stepped to the side. The man ambled into her.
Erin shoved him.
Ralph wrappe
d his arms around her and pressed his mouth into her breasts.
“Stop!” she yelled, and shoved him more forcefully, but his arms locked around her back and she couldn’t push him away. She fought panic. She clasped her hands and slammed them on his back. He pushed her against the shelves and grabbed her belt, trying to yank it free.
“Stop!” she yelled. Her panic increased. Memories of her old boyfriend in college resurfaced. No. I’m not that girl anymore. Her self-defense training kicked in and she kicked him between the legs. His arms went slack. Erin pushed him back to give herself room, grabbed one of his arms, and flipped him onto the floor. He fell at an awkward angle and she heard a loud crack from his wrist.
He howled in pain. Erin ignored him and sat on his chest, pinning him to the floor. She slapped him hard across the face. “Shut up,” she said as her panic subsided. “Where is the transmitter?”
He continued to howl, so she slapped him again. For the first time since she arrived, his eyes focused.
“Listen,” she said, “armed men are on campus. I need the radio to call for help.”
He grasped his wrist and said, “Can’t. Transmitter’s busted.”
She stood and paced the room, glancing everywhere for anything she could use to help. “Isn’t there anything we can do? We have to call the police.”
“I…I don’t know,” he said, slurring his words. “There’s no other radio and the snow plow is busted.”
“What about the road?”
“If you tried to drive down in this weather, you’d skid off the mountain and die.”
Erin thought of the snowmobiles that the terrorists had rode in on. But it was ten miles to the nearest town and their police station. On top of that, she’d never ridden one. She could flip it or end up stranded in a ditch. Not to mention, she’d freeze to death in this storm. But she needed to do something.
She spied an old shotgun propped against a wall. Her father had taken her hunting once as a teenager, but that was the only time she’d handled a weapon.
The Italian Deception Page 23