by Doug Welch
Irritated that Tony still hadn’t called, he took the elevator to his room and waited for the new car to be delivered.
Lying on the bed and contemplating his next series of moves, he heard his cell phone chime.
Picking it up, he keyed the answer button. “Paris.”
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I had to deal with a bit of a crisis,” Tony began.
Paris settled back in the bed. “Anything I should be worried about?”
“Actually, yes. It seems the Borgias are protesting an invasion of their territory by a member of a rival house.”
Paris sat up. “Let me guess. —Me?”
He heard Tony’s chuckle over the phone. “You got it in one. Actually they didn’t name names, that would bring the Council in and a lot of questions with it.”
Paris rose to his feet and began packing while he talked. “How did they find out?”
“Not every House is happy with the Council’s actions as of late and they have informers. You’ll have to leave Italy and go to Belgium. Don’t try to get out by an Italian port, they’ll all be watched. You won’t need a passport to move through Europe and don’t use plastic. It can be traced. Also discard any cell phones including the one you’re calling on. They can use them to track you.”
“Well how in the hell am I going to travel? I don’t have many Euros.”
“I’m sending a Normal to meet you. He’ll have the cash and a car. Do you have something to write with?”
Paris paused in the middle of throwing clothes into his bag to search for a pen. “Got one. Give me the address.”
Tony read off a location. “It’s outside of Naples, a town called Pozzuoli. You’ll need to take a taxi and it’ll be expensive.”
“I’ll hit a teller on the way out of the hotel,” Paris said. “That won’t leave an electronic trail they can follow. Who’s the contact?”
“I don’t know. Bertram Chandler’s handling that. Whoever it is will meet you at the location.”
He sat his bags near the door. “Right, well I’m outta here.”
“One more thing, Paris. Did you discover anything?”
Opening the door he sat his luggage in the hallway. “Maybe, maybe not. Nothing but the probable location. But without a team in place I can’t penetrate it. We may have to try something different. Something they won’t expect.”
“Very well, keep in contact if you can. I’m flying to Belgium and I’ll meet you there.”
Paris ended the call, removed the tiny authorization chip from the phone and threw the now deactivated phone on the bed. Pocketing the chip and closing the door, he picked up his bags. After entering the lobby of the hotel, he checked his luggage at the front desk, keeping only a small overnight bag with his essentials.
He raided the ATM for a few hundred Euros, and had the doorman flag a taxi.
Sitting in the back seat, Paris watched as the cab wound through the streets of Naples, heading out of the city to the west. The doorman, seeing that he was American, had apparently chosen an English speaking cabdriver who chattered nonstop about his relatives in America.
Tuning him out, Paris thought about what he’d do next. Staying in Italy seemed out of the question, but was it? If he kept a low profile and had some inside help he might be able to salvage the situation. On the other hand, why risk it? Just deliver his report to Tony in Belgium and fly back to Kentucky and wait for the birth of his child.
Inside he knew the answer. He needed to know his birthright, why so many people seemed to have his genetic heritage. He needed answers to a lot of questions and he wouldn’t find them in Kentucky.
Away from the heart of Naples the taxi followed a divided highway for a while, and then the driver exited the major route and drove south to the coast. Occasional glimpses of the Mediterranean gleamed in the distance. Soon the roads narrowed, becoming streets lined with planter boxes. Picturesque apartments with wrought iron balconies crowded the cramped way, leaving just enough room for two very small cars to pass each other. In a few minutes the cab stopped at an open-air cafe, the name Caffe' Serapide spelled out on the marquee.
Exiting the taxi, Paris paid and tipped the driver.
Looking around at the clean and tasteful plaza that fronted the cafe and the narrow streets that intersected it, he crossed the street and walked toward the open air restaurant. The breeze from the Mediterranean a few blocks away cooled the hot summer air. In reflection it might be a nice place to take Elizabeth after the baby was born.
Finding a seat at one of the outdoor tables, he managed to convince the waiter, after using a little sign language and a few remembered Italian words, to bring him a glass of chilled white wine. Sipping the wine while he waited for his contact, Paris scanned every man that passed, looking for some sign of recognition.
After a while, his attention was distracted by the whispered stirrings of a few of the cafe’s male patrons. Swinging his head, he looked in the direction they pointed. Walking toward the cafe, a stunningly beautiful woman strode on spiked high heels, her full skirt whipping around her knees as her long shapely legs ate up the distance.
She entered the cafe area and several male heads turned as she navigated the tables.
Looking around at the patrons, she spied Paris and swayed to his table, sitting opposite him.
Her contralto voice caressed the air. “Mister Fox?”
Speechless, Paris could only nod.
She extended a hand across the table. “Hi. I’m Dani. Bertram Chandler sent me to help you.”
Taking her hand, her clasp was soft but firm in his. Finding his voice he replied, “The Chairman didn’t mention he’d be sending a beautiful woman.”
The perfectly shaped eyebrows which were colored the same as her raven black hair, arched in amusement. “That levels the playing field. Bert didn’t mention I’d be meeting an attractive man.”
Paris sat back, studying her. The silky black hair caressed the olive skin of her swan-like neck in waves, and the rich chocolate of her almond shaped eyes gleamed with humor. It was all he could do not to stare at her. He broke eye contact and picked up his glass, taking a sip.
“You’re certainly not dressed for a long trip.”
She smiled, the action revealing her pearly white teeth. “I just finished with a photo shoot. I work as a model here in Pozzuoli and do occasional favors for the Chairman, although I think I will enjoy this one. Tell me Paris, are you married?”
“Yes I am. My wife lives in Kentucky.”
The smile disappeared and she sighed. “Why are all the gorgeous men either married or gay?”
Paris chuckled. “I know a few good looking men who’d be dying to meet you back in the States and they’re neither married nor gay. What’s your last name Dani?”
Her smile returned. “Karela. My family is descended from the Romani, those you might call gypsies. Specifically the Dom branch of Romani.”
Paris felt his eyebrow rise in a question. “Dom? I’m not familiar with that word.”
“It is the name given to the class of Romani, gypsies living in the Middle East,” she replied. “Mostly in the area of Iran. I know this stuff because my father is obsessed with our heritage and he keeps pounding it in our heads.
At the mention of Iran, Paris felt a chill crawl up his spine. Why does my life always lead back to Iran?
Dani rose to her feet. “We need to go back to my apartment so I can freshen up and change into traveling clothes. We will be leaving tonight.”
Paris automatically stood when Dani did. He dropped a few Euros on the table, enough for the drink and a tip. Picking up his bag, he followed her. Hurrying to catch up, Paris resumed the conversation. “You mentioned a family. Do you have sisters or brothers?”
As she walked, Dani glanced sideways at him. “I have four older brothers. I’m the only girl in the family. Do you have siblings?”
Paris nodded. “At this time... it’s flexible but yes, at least a twin sister. She’s
married also.”
Dani’s silvery laughter echoed from the buildings. “What do you mean ‘it’s flexible’?”
Regaining his composure, he grinned. “It’s a complicated story. Maybe on the way to Belgium I’ll tell you. By the way do you know where we’re going?”
Dani stopped walking and he paused with her. Her humor vanished and she placed her hands on her hips. “No. I thought you would know.”
If she didn’t know their destination, Paris wondered how many other things were screwed up. “Didn’t Chairman Chandler tell you?”
Dani shook her head, the silken strands of her hair flying around her shoulders. “My father was busy and he couldn’t get free so he asked me to fill in. I’ll call him. Maybe he knows and forgot to tell me.” She resumed walking.
Of a sudden, Paris felt uneasy. He didn’t want to put her in jeopardy. If Chandler hadn’t told her father that the trip might be hazardous, she wouldn’t be able to make an informed decision.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Dani? Maybe I should travel alone. It could be dangerous and I wouldn’t–”
Abruptly she stopped walking, assuming the same posture, hands on her hips, one leg forward with the toe of her stiletto heels tapping the ground and her head cocked to one side. “What makes you think I’m unaccustomed to danger?” She hiked her skirt up to reveal a glimpse of creamy thigh and the compact automatic strapped to it in a Velcro holster.
Paris knew better than to provoke a determined woman. Holding his hands in front of his chest, he made a warding off gesture. “No offense, Dani. I just thought you should be informed.”
Dropping her skirt, she continued walking. “Very well, consider me warned.”
After continuing in silence for awhile, the only sound the tapping of her heels on the pavement, Dani spoke again. “My family owes the Chairman’s House a debt. We’ve always helped them, anytime they’ve asked, without questions.”
Paris just listened without comment.
Dani sighed. “Did you know the Borgias were Italian Fascists during the Second World War?”
Paris shook his head.
Dani glanced at him and then turned her eyes to the sidewalk ahead. “Well they were, and they tried to eliminate my great-grandparents. The Chairman’s House hid them and protected them. My family doesn’t forget a debt. But it’s more than that. We’ve been allied with his House for centuries. A few of us have the blood of the People mixed with our genes. It’s a long history.”
Paris finally spoke. “I don’t forget debts either, Dani. I call my House a Family and my Family also doesn’t forget debts.”
She nodded. “It is as it should be.” Head staring at the pavement, she walked a little further before asking, “You said, ‘your Family’ like you were the head. Are you an Adept?”
Paris nodded. “An unusual one, but yes, I’m the head of my House.”
Bringing her head back up, she stopped walking. “That will make things easier. We’re here. This is my apartment. Come in and rest while I change.”
Entering a narrow doorway, they climbed an equally narrow flight of stairs. At the top a small vestibule led to three doors. Dani unlocked the one on the right. Paris followed her into a small, cheery apartment. Sunlight flowed through the sheer curtains adorning the large windows and illuminated the small living room. To his left, he saw a kitchen holding a table big enough for two people and to his right a single bedroom.
Dani tugged off her heels, wiggling her toes and sighing as her feet settled on the rug. “Make yourself comfortable, Paris. Put your bag behind the door.”
He dropped the bag and closed the door.
Dani raised a hand full of her hair above her neck and pointed to her back. “Could you reach the zipper? I can but it’s easier if someone helps.”
Nervous at the feel of her soft skin, Paris found the tab and pulled it down to her waist. He didn’t notice a bra strap behind it.
With her back to him, Dani walked to the bedroom tugging the dress off her shoulders and past her hips, revealing the thong under it. Wearing little more than a gun and a mischievous smile, she looked at him over her shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute. There’s some wine in the kitchen. Pour yourself a glass.” She closed the door.
Letting his breath out in a whoosh, Paris dropped to the couch. Dani represented temptation, writ large. Most other married men would find it hard to resist, but most men were not like Paris Fox.
After waiting awhile he got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen. Searching the cupboards he found two glasses. Popping the cork on a bottle of Chianti, he poured the glasses half full and carried them into the living room.
In a space of time substantially more than a minute, Dani emerged from the bedroom dressed in designer jeans and a lavender silk blouse with a leather jacket over the blouse. The jeans molded to her figure like a second skin. Paris wondered if she still carried the gun because he didn’t see anywhere to hide it.
Spying the glass of wine on the table in front of the couch, she picked it up and sat beside him. “We need to wait for my brother. He’s bringing the money.”
Uncomfortable with her nearness and the seductive scent of her perfume Paris moved over to put a little space between them.
Dani sipped some of the wine and set the glass on the table. Turning to him, she rested her elbow on the backrest and drew up her knee on the couch. “This trip is long and we’re likely to be traveling together for some time. Tell me Paris, how married are you.”
Paris swallowed. “Very married.”
Her eyes studied him in frank appraisal. “Your wife is a lucky woman.”
Paris shook his head. “You’ve got it wrong, Dani. I’m a very, very, lucky man.”
She smiled. “Then your wife is twice blessed.” She straightened on the couch and leaned forward to pick up her glass. Grinning, she said, “You can relax, Paris, I’ll stop trying to seduce you.”
Paris released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you, I appreciate that. You’re a very distracting woman, Dani.”
“Only distracting?”
“I think you know better than that,” Paris replied.
Dani nodded. “Actually I do. It’s hard to not sense my affect on men particularly in Italy. Italian men are very demonstrative in their attraction toward women.” She resumed her searching appraisal of him. “In your case though, you’re different. I think it’s the eyes. I’ve never seen that amber shade before. Not to mention the fact that you’re a very pretty man.”
Paris felt himself blush. “I think you’re a very frank woman, Dani, and I’m glad I met you.”
“The feeling is mutual, Paris, shall we talk about something else?”
Before he could change the topic, a knock sounded at the door.
Dani stood. “That’s probably my brother with the money. I’ll answer it.”
Paris stopped her by grabbing her forearm. “Wait. Let me check first.”
Dani wrested her arm from his grip. “It’s just my brother.”
Paris stood and blocked her access to the door. “I’ll feel better if you let me check first, Dani.”
With an annoyed look, Dani paused. “Okay check, but I’m sure it’s my brother.”
Paris expanded his mind glow past the confines of the room to the landing outside the door. He sensed two men waiting, but one was a Shadow.
“Does you brother ordinarily travel with a friend, a friend who’s one of the People?”
Dani, not looking as self-assured, bit her lip. “No.”
Paris motioned to the bedroom. “Hide. I’ll take care of this.” He turned, facing the front door, but he didn’t hear the bedroom door open or close. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Dani in an aiming crouch holding her automatic. She winked at him.
Chuckling, Paris whispered, “I can’t imagine where you hid that.”
Grinning she replied, “I don’t know you well enough to tell you.”
Paris patterned his own imag
e in the Shadow’s mind, effectively becoming invisible to him. Freezing the Normal, he opened the door.
Standing on the landing he saw a man wearing a puzzled expression with his impatient Shadow companion hovering behind him. The Shadow, ignoring his partner, was apparently confident of his invisibility so he brushed by his consort stepping into the apartment and moving toward Dani.
Paris, knowing Dani couldn’t see the man, caught him from behind in a choke hold like the cops used to render an assailant unconscious. The surprised Shadow struggled but Paris held on.
Dani, looking confused, still held her automatic.
Paris, panting, kept his lock on the Shadow. “–The man in the hallway – cover him with the gun.”
Dani, staring wide-eyed at Paris’ struggle with something she obviously couldn’t see, hesitated.
Paris felt the Shadow’s feeble attempts at breaking free diminish as he slumped unconscious to the floor.
Dani yelped. “Mio Dio! I can see him.”
Paris still held him in the choke hold. “Good, now, cover the one outside.”
Dani stepped gingerly around both of them and trained her gun on the still frozen Normal outside the door.
A few seconds later, Paris heard foot steps pounding up the stairs. Fearing that the noise signaled the sound of reinforcements, he released his hold on the Shadow and Joined Dani at the doorway.
He heard a string of Italian curse words along with Dani’s name.
Dani turned to him. “It’s my brother. He wants to know what a strange man is doing in my apartment.”
Relieved that the reinforcements were for his side, Paris turned his attention to the Shadow. “Ask your brother if he has anything we can use to tie these men up. The Shadow will be regaining consciousness soon and he’ll disappear again.”
Dani spoke to her brother in rapid Italian. Paris had no idea of the conversation, but he disappeared down the stairs and in a few seconds returned with some dirty, greasy rope, likely removed from the trunk of his car.
Paris tied the Shadow’s hands behind him and looped the end of the rope around his ankles, bending the man’s knees so that he couldn’t straighten without pulling the bindings tighter.