CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The exciting discovery of a hidden train in Romania led the world news headlines for a week. Every evening newscasters reported thrilling events of the day as the conservators moved car by car through the Ghost Train. The fascinating discoveries of church relics, artwork and gold bullion astonished everyone. As much as Paul abhorred publicity, he couldn’t stay out of the limelight this time. He was one of four men who had found the Ghost Train. He left the interviews to the others, but his name and picture appeared every time there was a story.
On the night the discovery was announced, Philippe had been sitting in his new favorite bar, watching the TV across the room. When he saw Paul’s picture, he got off his barstool and limped over to listen. “Shit!” he screamed as he heard what his enemy had found. “Shit!”
He kicked one barstool over and then threw another across the room. The bartender rushed around and grabbed Philippe by the arms, dragging him to the door and tossing him into the street.
“I warned you last time, you crazy bastard! Don’t ever come back here!”
As Philippe walked home, the Bad Man taunted him over and over. “You are a crazy bastard. Let me kill Paul, you crazy bastard!”
You win, Philippe said at last. You can kill him. Just stop taunting me.
——
On the afternoon they found the train Paul’s first call had been to Carey. She could sense his excitement as he described the Ghost Train and its priceless cargo.
“What’s next, Mr. Adventurer?” she quipped.
“I hate publicity. I have to get away, somewhere small enough I can blend in with the crowd and stop all this craziness. Meet me tomorrow at the Naples airport. Pack for a week’s stay and run away with me!”
He was waiting in baggage claim the next afternoon when she came through the security doors. He hugged her tightly and said, “You’re the best thing I’ve seen in a long, long time!” They kissed passionately and held each other close. His driver loaded the suitcases, and soon they were speeding down the scenic mountain highway that ringed the Bay of Napoli. They went through a long, dark tunnel and emerged to see an overhead sign that made Paul smile.
Welcome to Sorrento.
He hadn’t been here in years, and this was her first visit. They unpacked in their suite at the exclusive Excelsior Vittoria Hotel and threw open the patio doors. They could hear waves lapping against the shoreline far below them. The water was serene, and the sight of Mount Vesuvius towering over Naples on the opposite side of the bay was breathtaking.
“I love this place,” he said as he stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her body.
“I love you, Paul,” she whispered. He turned her around and kissed her deeply. Then suddenly he broke away and walked inside.
“What’s wrong?” she cried, running in behind him. “If I said something wrong…”
“You didn’t say anything wrong. You said something right. It’s me. I can’t love anyone. As much as I want to do this, I can’t. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
She sat on the bed, racked with convulsive sobs. “I don’t understand. Ever since you met me at the airport today, I thought you felt the same way about me as I’ve come to feel about you. You’re all I want, Paul. You’re all I need from now on. I’ve done some bad things in my life, but all I want is you.”
“God knows I’ve done bad things too, much worse than you. I’m no good at this, Carey. I’m no good at love. Whenever I try, something bad happens either to me or to the person I love. So I gave it up. I can’t love you. It just won’t work.”
“Yes, it will. Dammit, I won’t let you go. I won’t let this happen. Do you love me, Paul? Do you? Say it if you do.”
“I don’t want to hurt you…”
“Say it!”
Suddenly he was the one sobbing. He sat next to her and said, “I love you, Carey. I’ve loved you for a long time. I love you, but I’m afraid.”
Smiling now, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I can deal with that. As long as we love each other, we have nothing to be afraid of. You’re mine now. You might as well get used to that idea!”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Dressed completely in black and wearing a ski mask, the Bad Man waited patiently in a grove of trees at the top of a huge cliff. The Bay of Naples stretched endlessly below him on this breathtakingly beautiful day. Less than a hundred feet to his left the expansive terraces of the aristocratic Excelsior Vittoria Hotel snaked around a mountain. Ten stories below lay the Sorrento boat docks. A ferry making the quick trip to Capri pulled away, cutting smoothly through the azure sea as an inbound one took its place.
He had checked the high-powered rifle twenty times already, but he gave it a last once-over. It was ready and so was he. He cradled it gently on his arm, watching as passengers disembarked. He had sat here for hours, waiting for one particular couple.
At last he saw them. They looked so happy, he thought with a smirk. She had her arm around him, and his jacket was thrown around his shoulders in typical Italian fashion. They looked like a pair of lovers without a care in the world as they walked along the dock toward the elevator. The Bad Man sneered as he followed them with his eyes, making sure they entered the car. He hadn’t been this excited in years. In moments he would kill again. What exhilaration!
Yesterday he had limped across the veranda to that same elevator and ridden it down and back, noting how many minutes the trip took. The top of the elevator opened onto the Excelsior Vittoria’s terrace, and its shaft hugged the mountain a hundred feet to the dock below. It was the only way to get to the ferries without traversing a steep narrow staircase, but the only people allowed to use it were the wealthy tourists who were staying at this elegant establishment.
He had stealthily followed the couple to the hotel. He had even rented a room himself yesterday, but he didn’t use it. All he needed was to have a room key. He wanted access to the elevator. It was an essential part of his plan, so he waited. He watched the couple leave the grounds for lunch in Sorrento before venturing out onto the terrace. He couldn’t risk their seeing him. That would have ruined everything.
Now at last it was time. In a minute the elevator doors would open onto the hotel’s veranda. Carey would step out holding her sweetheart’s arm and he would pull the trigger. Right before the bitch’s eyes, her lover, Paul Silver, would die. He raised the rifle, peered into the scope and steadied the gun on a tree limb. As the doors slid open, the Bad Man tightened his finger on the trigger. It was time for retribution.
A single shot rang out, its report echoing against the mountainside. Paul heard it and threw her back into the elevator – back to safety. He watched as a body tumbled from a grove of trees next to the hotel. It plummeted to the ground far below, slamming into one of the huge rocks that lined a small beach adjacent to the docks. A rifle tumbled down after the figure, landing ten feet from the body.
As they rode the elevator down to see what had happened, Milosh Lepescu sat high above them, still holding his long gun. He’d followed his brother here, waited nearby and finally realized what was about to happen. He saw a man and woman step out of the elevator, and he watched his brother position the rifle. He immediately realized that Philippe was about to commit a murder.
Milosh had followed Philippe here in order to kill him. When he saw him raise the rifle, Milosh acted quickly. He wouldn’t let his evil brother hurt anyone else. Seconds before Philippe pulled the trigger, Milosh pulled his. He watched Philippe’s body spiral down to the pavement below, followed by his rifle. Milosh was satisfied at last. He had finally stood up to his little brother and he had finally acted like a man.
He calmly wiped his gun clean, set it in the bushes, and walked two blocks to the Sorrento town square. More satisfied and at ease than he’d been in years, he strolled the narrow lanes, window-shopping with the hundreds of other tourists who hadn’t a care in the world. He felt a sense of accomplishment, something he hadn’t fel
t in many, many years.
Finally ending up at the square, he watched the police activity down the road where Philippe had waited to kill the couple. He was safe. No one could possibly tie him to anything and he had no reason to hide. He chose the least busy of a dozen outdoor cafés, took a seat and ordered an espresso. As the waiter turned away, he called him back. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s make it a champagne. I’m in the mood to celebrate.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Anticipating a romantic interlude in their hotel room after the ferry ride back from a morning on the Isle of Capri, Carey and Paul had walked hand in hand to the elevator going from the dock to the hotel’s terrace. When the doors opened at the top, there was a sharp crack that Paul recognized instantly. He pushed her roughly back into the car, stood outside for a moment, and then jumped in with her. He pushed the button to go back down to the docks.
“What’s happening?” she screamed.
“I heard a gunshot, and a body fell from the mountain next to the hotel. I want to see if we can help.”
They found an inert human form sprawled face down on the rocks next to the bay. An automatic rifle lay nearby. She began to scream as other people who had seen the event ran toward them. Paul held her tightly and then let her go as a security guard approached.
Paul explained what had happened, and the guard used his radio to call the police. He took Paul’s name in case the authorities wanted to get his statement and allowed them to leave. They went back up to the hotel terrace and walked to their room.
She was distraught. “God, Paul. What happened to that man?”
“I’d have said it was a jumper except for the rifle. I have no idea. Maybe we’ll hear something later on.”
Their earlier interest in romance was certainly out of mind for the time being. Frazzled, they showered and decided to walk across the street to have lunch at one of the outdoor cafés. The waiter seated them at a front table where they could people-watch and try to get their minds off what they’d experienced. As he ordered wine, they heard a man at the next table tell his waiter, “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s make it a champagne. I’m in the mood to celebrate.”
“I think anyone who is lucky enough to be sitting in the Sorrento Town Square right now should be in the mood to celebrate,” Carey murmured as she nestled closer to Paul. She was glad to be right here with him, and she felt protected and safe. She put the grisly scene on the dock behind her and savored the moment with him.
Paul glanced at the next table, gave a thumbs-up and a smile, and the man grinned back with a wave. Paul thought he looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall having met him. He’d probably seen the man another day right here in the square, he presumed.
When Paul and Carey got their wine and the stranger at the next table had his champagne, they turned and raised their glasses, joining him in a toast. They toasted the man’s celebration, whatever it was. As they turned away, Milosh laughed to himself and took the first drink of champagne. Those strangers have no idea they just toasted my success in killing my own brother!
A week in Sorrento was like a week in heaven, Carey thought as she dozed in bed on their final morning in paradise. She had told him everything about Nicu, including the strange black card he’d given her and how it worked. No more secrets, she’d told herself, knowing that was a one-sided promise. There were things about him she might never know. But she was okay with that. All she wanted was Paul.
One more thing she confessed with pride was that her need for heroin was a thing of the past. It had been replaced with a newfound zest for living. She had enough money to be comfortable from now on, and she was in the best place she’d ever been. Paul promised to be there for her.
“You’d better not make that promise without meaning it,” she said only half-jokingly. “I intend to hold you to it.”
Yesterday Paul told her he had to go to Bucharest to tie up one loose end. He hadn’t mentioned what that was, but she knew he would tell her when he was ready. She still often wondered exactly how much more there was to learn about this intriguing man, but she was prepared to settle down and learn everything. She drifted into slumber again then dreamily awoke when the door buzzer rang.
While she was sleeping, Paul had checked the local news on his phone, searching for the story about a man falling to his death in Sorrento. What he found astonished him. A Swiss citizen, Philippe Lepescu, had fallen from the cliff after being shot. A rifle with Lepescu’s fingerprints was on the ground beside him and it had not been fired. Another rifle, the murder weapon, was found in some bushes adjoining the famous Excelsior Vittoria Hotel. That weapon had no fingerprints. The police had no motive, no suspects, and were asking anyone with information to come forward.
Paul opened up the patio doors, and the waiter rolled the room service cart onto their terrace. It was their last meal in this idyllic place, and as always, he was arranging nice things for her even while she slumbered.
He stuck his head into the room and said, “Get up, sleepyhead! It’s time for our farewell breakfast!”
She dragged herself into the bathroom and came out wearing the plush hotel bathrobe. He was in his shorts and T-shirt, drinking coffee at the table on their patio.
“What’s our plan for today? How much time do I have?”
Paul glanced at his watch. “Plenty. In two hours our driver will take us back to Naples. From there we’ll fly to Bucharest. We’ll be there by 1:30 this afternoon and spend the night. That’s as far ahead as I’ve planned.” He smiled. She knew how unlike him that was. Paul Silver planned everything. If he really hadn’t thought about the future past tomorrow, maybe she was getting somewhere. Maybe she was loosening him up, putting a little of her gypsy spirit in this businessman-adventurer.
As she ate, a thought came to her. “There’s no way we can fly from Naples to Bucharest in three hours. Won’t we have to change planes somewhere, like Rome or Vienna?”
“Leave it all in my hands,” he replied with a grin.
Their driver dropped them at Naples’s private aircraft terminal, where a six-passenger Gulfstream jet sat waiting. Will the surprises never end? she said to herself as the plane lifted into the sky.
Paul had one final hunch, one remaining million-dollar loose end to tie up. He dodged her questions as their taxi drove them through Bucharest’s busy streets. When they reached their destination, she looked out and said, “What the hell is this all about?”
They were parked in front of the building where Nicu Lepescu had lived.
Paul ushered her into the lobby; a man in a coat and tie stood waiting.
“Mr. Silver?”
Paul nodded and the man said, “Did you bring the authorization from the owners?”
He took a folded paper from his pocket and handed it over. The man glanced at it and put it in his pocket. “There’s your package,” he said, pointing to a box on the floor. He handed Paul a large ring of keys, advised him they would unlock every door in the building, and left.
“Okay, it’s confession time,” she said brightly. “Want to tell me exactly what’s going on? What was that paper you gave him, the authorization from the owners? And how the hell did you get him to let you have keys to everything?”
“That paper was a letter from the corporation that owns this building, giving me the right to search it.”
“How in the world did you get them to allow that?” she said with a grin.
“I’ve kept one little secret from you,” he admitted with a grin.
“One little secret? Somehow I doubt that,” she quipped. “But please continue!”
He explained how he’d calculated the number of gold bars Nicu must have stolen while he was stationmaster. Nicu had hidden 192 bars in two safety deposit boxes, but like her, Paul believed there were more. “I used one of my companies to buy this building,” he declared.
“Stop for a minute! You bought this building? Are you serious? Why?”
“I was getting to t
he good part,” he continued. “If Nicu had more gold to hide, and if Nicu owned this seven-story building, why wouldn’t he have hidden it here? He almost never left his flat, you told me, so it was a perfect hiding place. No one would be the wiser. Nicu’s grandchildren put the building on the market, and when I came up with my hunch, I bought it. Now I can see for myself. If there’s something here, then great. If there isn’t, I still have a marketable piece of real estate I only paid four million lei for.”
Only four million lei! A million US dollars! He had bought a building just to see if a hunch was correct! She had a new respect for how seriously wealthy this man really was. The private jet ride was only the beginning to understanding what real money could do for someone. Now her boyfriend owned Nicu’s building. Crazy.
Paul opened the box the estate agent had left. He pulled out some tools and a sophisticated piece of handheld equipment, which he explained was a metal detector. Hopefully it would come in handy this afternoon, he said with excitement in his voice. “Let’s get started.”
It seemed surreal as they entered the empty apartment that had been Nicu’s home. She had spent much of the last three years in these spacious rooms, and now they were bare and cold. She looked around as he immediately went to work. His target would be inside walls, he told her, places where there might have been a closet or room that could have been sealed up and painted over. He set the machine to search for precious metals and ignore common elements such as iron and steel, and he began to move the detector up and down one wall after another.
It was almost dark when he called it a day. They checked into a nearby hotel, had an early dinner and were in bed by ten. They hit it early the next morning. He was finished with Nicu’s apartment, so he moved to the only other vacant one in the building. It was also the only other apartment on Nicu’s floor. The estate agent had told him this apartment hadn’t been rented in years. For some reason Nicu kept it empty, perhaps for storage, the man surmised.
The Crypt Trilogy Bundle Page 67