by Ritter Ames
“Hell no. You stay with me.”
I didn’t like the way this conversation was going, given the fact we might have official ears listening in. I pretended to drop my phone under the seat to keep Micelli from hearing and whispered. “What are we going to do? You left your gun in the safe, right?”
He nodded, eyes still firmly forward. “Don’t look right now—keep helping me spot the van—but do you have anything in your bag of tricks to use as a weapon? Can you feel around for something?”
“I have some sharp things—” The dot turned again. “They took another left. A block or so. We would be able to see them if we weren’t surrounded by large vehicles and warehouses.”
“If this car wasn’t so bloody small.”
Yes, the Fiat definitely had height issues.
Jack turned again, and we found we were leaving through a back exit. Ahead we saw the van. Both of us shrieked. I fished under the seat to retrieve my phone.
“Micelli! Micelli! Are you there?”
A second later: “Sì. I am here.”
“We found the van. We’re following it. Are you tracking us?”
“Sì. You should see cars and hear sirens.”
“Nothing. No lights, no sirens.”
Our Fiat got closer. We were only one car away from the dark van. The street was filled with working vehicles, and our mini-wheeled vehicle was overshadowed by the heavy trucks.
“They are coming,” Micelli said. “Don’t do anything dangerous.”
Jack’s face looked like he was about to blow. My phone sailed back under the seat. I hoped any conversation Micelli heard wasn’t clear enough to understand. Or could be held against us.
The oncoming lane emptied for a moment, and we swung in, accelerating and shifting quickly enough to make the car roar in protest. I didn’t need to watch the dot on the screen anymore and dove into the Fendi looking for potential weapons while I had the chance.
I pulled out a heavy silver cuff bracelet. “Can you use this like brass knuckles?”
He took a quick glance and nodded. “See if you can flatten it a little.”
I put it in the floorboard and stomped it a couple of times with my foot. Holding it up again, I said, “A little better. I have my travel-sized hairspray too.”
Through the speaker, I heard Micelli sputtering. I started to ask where our backup was, but in the same instant I finally heard sirens. As did the occupants of the van. The vehicle accelerated again. Jack followed suit.
Out of nowhere, a truck came at us. We were going to get T-boned.
Jack slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel hard to the right. The truck turned left. The metal on the sides of both vehicles met and screamed in protest through the skid. The impact propelled us into the side of a flatbed truck parked for loading. Our Fiat slid under the bed. A split second later, we finally stopped. Our windshield sat a mere inch away from the steel frame of the flatbed. We were alive. With luck, Nico was too.
I scrambled out my side and dragged the Fendi behind me. Jack’s cell was in my hand, but mine remained somewhere on the floorboard of the car. It didn’t matter.
Jack sent out a few choice curse words as he wiggled out of my side of the car.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes.” He grunted. “I feel like a square peg trying to work through a round hole.”
“I think the opening is more a warped pentagon,” I rambled. Then I saw the blood. “Your hand—”
He gripped the frame with the injured hand and pulled free of the Fiat. “It’s nothing,” he said, wiping the blood onto his jeans. “It’s my neck and shoulder we need to worry about.”
“I can call—”
The truck suddenly roared to life and raced away. The vehicle fishtailed for a second, belched out a dark plume of smoke from the tailpipe, and disappeared in traffic. We didn’t even get a license number or a good look at the driver.
“Well, he’s obviously not waiting for the police to make a report,” Jack said.
“Neither should we.” I ran in the direction the van headed. “I don’t know if the truck driver is part of this whole crazy thing or not. Maybe he’s had a few with lunch and didn’t want to risk a DUI. Come on, let’s find the van.”
Jack hurried alongside me, holding his injured left hand and arm rigid across his chest.
“You’re sure you don’t need a doctor?” I said.
“The police will be here momentarily and will have questions. Let’s move.”
Watching the dot, we traced their route, west for a moment, followed by north again. The flashing light kept us company. Sirens blared from every direction, but we stayed focused on the dot as it slowed to a stop.
“They’ve stopped,” I said. “They could be changing vehicles.”
“Bloody hell.”
Trucks rumbled by, blocking our views. We split up to try triangulating to catch the van between us, but as we rounded our respective corners the dark vehicle zoomed away, moving too fast for us to catch or follow on foot.
“Looks like Nico’s rescue is up to the polizia now,” Jack said.
I showed him the screen. “Maybe not.” The blinking dot remained fixed in place.
Breaks in traffic revealed Nico wasn’t on the other side of the street.
We ran across, hopeful he was hiding somewhere nearby. Until we saw the package abutting the curb. It was a small brown envelope, sealed, with Nico’s name printed on the outside. Behind it on the curb were several dark drops looking suspiciously like blood. The sidewalk sported a number of recent scuffmarks, like a struggle had occurred.
“Damn.” I seriously wanted to cry or break something. Preferably break someone.
“Wait a minute.” Jack picked up the package and held it as he rotated in a full circle. The lot in front of us sported partial construction. Beside it was a building already tagged for demolition. A storefront business took the block across the street. Another sat beside the construction site.
“What are you thinking?”
We could hear the sirens screaming closer and stop back in the area of our accident.
“Oh no,” I said. “They aren’t chasing the van. They’re homed in on my cell in the wrecked car.” I felt the pit of my stomach drop even further. No one knew where Nico was.
Jack, however, didn’t seem phased at all. Rather, he was on alert. “Look at the scuffs.”
“By the blood?”
He nodded. With a few long strides he crossed the construction. He turned and looked again in each direction.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“I’m thinking there’s no way they would have known to toss out this package.”
“Unless they had a transmission detector, and the charm set it off.”
“True.” Jack kept turning, staring hard in every direction. “But if that was the case, why did they wait to test for a transmitter?”
“They finally realized they were being followed electronically?”
“Or they never checked, and they didn’t know this package even existed.” He put the envelope into a front pocket of his jeans. “Come on.” He jogged toward the boarded-up building and the door sporting a hefty-looking padlock.
“You think he’s in there?” I whispered.
“I think he’s somewhere nearby.” Jack kept his voice low. “I think they dropped him off around here, and if they didn’t leave someone to guard him, we may be able to get to him before they return.”
“What if Nico is here but being watched?”
“We may be able to overpower the guard. Help me look for something to break this lock.”
“You do remember I’m carrying a set of picklocks?”
His laughter was the silent kind, showing how s
tressed he was.
I started working on the lock, and Jack blocked me from the view of anyone passing. He explained his reasoning. “I think he was dragged out of the van, maybe fighting with them and the charm fell out onto the ground. I think they didn’t want to be caught with a kidnap victim when they heard the police sirens approaching and there’s a good chance we’ll find him inside.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Me too.”
Less than half a minute later the lock snapped open. I handed Jack the cuff I’d flattened in the car and a mini-flashlight I kept in the Fendi. He put the cuff over the knuckles on his right hand. I slipped my purse strap over my head to make it lay cross-body, leaving my hands free to carry hairspray in my left and the sharp pick in my right.
A cat yowled as it streaked out of the darkness and disappeared around the corner. I jumped in fright. Jack paused a moment. I didn’t know if it was to get his pulse rate back down to normal or to let his eyes adjust to the near darkness.
The odor of mold and rotting wood permeated the space. Also the nasally irritating smell of urine and some kind of chemical odor. I wondered about squatters and if there were more cats. Or worse.
When Jack moved again, his steps were careful. The wooden floor was broken in places and trash and construction debris littered the room, making us pick our steps. He turned to check all directions with the flashlight before he let me enter further into the space. I stayed with my back angled to his, to keep an eye on the door as we moved deeper inside. Closing the door again would have been safer, but I wanted our exit kept accessible for a fast break. Conversely, I had no desire for someone to slip in behind and catch us unawares.
A few feet in and we heard a kind of rustling scramble sound behind a half wall. I wondered about rats after seeing the cat. Jack used his flashlight hand to warn me to stop. He moved way out and around to see what was there without being close enough to be taken by surprise.
When he rushed behind the wall, I knew he’d found Nico.
“Are you okay?” Jack and I chorused when we finally got the gag from his mouth.
Nico started to nod, then groaned. “I ache all over.”
“Did they knock you unconscious?” Jack asked.
“No. They hit me on the head, but it was mostly to overpower me. Tied me up and carried me away in a laundry cart. I could barely move, and they gagged me until we were in the van.”
“We saw you leaving, but didn’t realize at the time what was going on,” I said, working on the knotted ropes at his wrists while Jack fought the ones at his ankles.
“They came into the room with a master key?” Jack asked.
“Yes. One second I was working on the laptop, and the next they were in the door, one restraining me while the other seized the equipment. I had my phone in my hand, and I tossed it under the side chair, so they would not have my contacts and data.”
“They stole the computers,” I said.
“Pfft, I have it…” He tapped his forehead, “…all here. They were hired muscle, and the one grabbing my gear said not to hurt me.”
“To ransom you or to get information out of you?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know, but it gave me the idea to pretend to have a concussion in the vehicle. They removed the gag when I moaned and let my eyes roll back. I forced myself to vomit. Between my being sick and the polizia, they changed plans.”
“Good thinking.”
Jack and I supported Nico between us.
“We must hurry,” Nico said. “They dropped me here and are coming back as soon as they’re able to lose the polizia and get another vehicle. Where’s your car?”
“We don’t have a car,” Jack said, sliding his head through the opening to check outside.
“Why? You were behind—”
“A truck hit us,” I said. “The police should be close by. They were tracking my phone, and it’s still in the car. We can report everything and get a ride to the hotel. Or do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No hospital,” Nico said. “Twice in twenty-four hours is too much.”
Well, he obviously wasn’t okay. He was dragging his left leg for one thing. I planned to take a closer look when we hit sunlight.
Jack gave the all-clear, and we moved out in tandem. I stopped to close the door and relock it.
“Come on,” Nico said.
“Go, I’ll catch up.” I finished pushing the heavy plywood door and held it with my body while I worked the latch and the lock. Seconds later, I was back supporting Nico’s other side. “If we’d left it wide open, they would have known to look for you without checking there first. This will buy us a few minutes.”
“A few minutes may not matter,” Jack muttered. “With all of this traffic, they could be on us any time and we’d never know.”
Nonetheless, to be safe we took a second to get our bearings before hurrying in the direction of where we’d last seen our car. Nico hobbled as fast as he could, and his ankle seemed to loosen up a little as we moved. He said, “I found something before the guys came in. Another forger in Cologne, Germany. He died a few weeks ago, but his cousin is someone we’ve used before.”
My mind ran quickly through names. “Do you mean Ralf?”
“Yes, their fathers were brothers,” Nico said. “When we get back to the hotel I will pull up the details about his relative with my cell and send it to you. I sent a text to Ralf already. The GPS on his phone confirms he’s in Cologne at his old neighborhood, but there was no reply before I was kidnapped.”
Ralf Burkhard and I shared a skill set, but his was much more highly developed than mine. And used more often. A trained acrobat and adrenalin junkie, he’d performed across Europe and Asia in his teens. Until he learned about five years ago he could gain a significant raise in annual income by working as an upper stories man—yes, a cat burglar—with a team of thieves. I’d learned a lot from studying his techniques to use in my own “reclamation” projects, though he was unaware of my interest. He only knew me as someone he could trust when he wanted to pass information into the hands of law enforcement without his name being associated. I assumed I’d been used for his gang’s purposes before, to get competition behind bars and out of the way. But the projected outcome always matched my own objective, and I justified leaving him free to work another day.
Besides, he stayed away from art. He simply reported on others who stole it.
“If we don’t hear from Ralf before we separate, I’ll try to contact him myself,” I said. “What’s his cousin’s name?”
“Jürgen. Same surname.”
“I’ve heard the name Burkhard before,” Jack said. “Isn’t Ralf connected to the group run by Charlie Wallz?”
“If we’re keeping this off the record, yes,” I said. “Otherwise, no comment.”
“Will he talk about his relative?”
“Good question.” Ralf had never discussed his family members with me, though I already knew he had several cousins in shady lines of work. He may have not replied to the text because of an innate suspicion about talking outside his circle, despite the fact it was impossible for anyone to arrest this relative. “I may need to brainstorm ways to persuade Ralf to meet us if he proves resistant to the idea.”
We stopped to let several vehicles pass before the street was clear enough to cross. I felt exposed, wondering if the dastardly duo had hijacked another car already and would be by at any second. “We need to get off the main thoroughfare.”
“Not much choice until we get out of this industrial park.”
There was that.
“I suppose the next thing is for us to catch a flight to Cologne,” I said.
“Night train through France or Switzerland would be better,” Jack replied. “Less chance of us being noticed. Not a perfect plan,
but better.”
Nico shook his head. “Go whichever way you want, but I agree with Jack. You’re supposed to pre-book a couple of days ahead, but I can probably take care of it.”
“Are you staying here in Rome?” I asked him.
“No, I’m going to New York,” Nico replied. “This is getting too dangerous. Cassie doesn’t need to be alone, whatever the safeguards she’s promised to take.”
“Good point,” Jack said. “Are you sure you should fly alone?”
“Give me a cellphone.”
I handed over Jack’s, and we moved into the shadows between two buildings. Nico leaned against the brick wall and his fingers flew over the screen. He gave the device back to me after a couple of minutes. His voice sounded weaker when he said, “Call Cassie. Tell her I got both of us on a later flight. I emailed her an e-ticket to use instead of the one she was originally scheduled to fly. I got both of us in first class.”
Max was going to have another fit. Aloud I said, “First, I’m calling Micelli and getting us picked up here. You’re not walking another step.”
Before I could do so, however, a dark sedan barreled around the corner and headed toward the empty building.
“This way,” Jack said, moving us into the alley.
“Should we hide behind some of these dumpsters and crates?” I asked.
“Be the first place they look. We need to keep moving. They’ll be looking for Nico traveling alone. They have no idea we found him.”
“Thank goodness for the charm,” I said.
“Yes,” Nico said. “My little idea seems to be tracking everyone but you.”
On the other side of the alley, we crossed the street. A closed shop front used a lock on its door I knew I could easily open. Jack looked for alarm wires, but the place seemed to be deserted. Apparently the owner assumed no need for security expenses on an empty building. I went to work. Minutes later, we huddled inside, hidden in the side shadows, watching for any sign of the dark sedan.
Within minutes, the sedan returned and parked almost out of sight. The two enormous bruisers we’d seen earlier in the hotel hallway entered the alley we had just left.