by Karen Moore
Hanna relaxed and sat back in her chair, her cheeks flushed with anticipation.
***
Hanna, Sergio and Vincenzo were sitting in the shade at a pavement café overlooking the quay, drinking iced coffee. Their table was set back, well away from the other patrons. According to Sergio, the meeting with Zhuri had gone well and they’d managed to persuade her to go ahead with her testimony. Hanna joined them once Zhuri had left.
As Hanna related her proposal, she was conscious how raw it all was. Maybe she should have spent more time on working out the details. Vincenzo studied Hanna’s face as she talked. When she’d finished, he turned his head, distracted for a moment by a flock of gulls squawking out in the bay, following a fishing boat bringing its catch ashore.
Turning back, he finished his coffee, rested both forearms on the table and clasped his hands together in front of him. “Well,” he said, “That’s one hell of an interesting idea, Hanna, but it’s full of flaws and fraught with danger. Amazingly gutsy, though, to even propose such a plan, especially after all you’ve been through. You’d be putting yourself at considerable risk. You do realise that, don’t you?”
Hanna gulped and nodded. “I know, but it could flush him out – and relatively quickly, too, if it works. Otherwise, how else are you going to find him? And how long’s it going to take to track him down, especially if he gets wind that you’re looking for him as a possible person of interest? You may never find him.”
“I agree it’s a long shot, but it may be worth considering,” said Sergio. “Unless you have any better ideas?”
Vincenzo shook his head. “I wish. Sadly, no. We’re at an impasse, or so it seems.”
“So, what do you think?” asked Hanna.
“I think, young lady, that we need to work out the details, and that can only be done over lunch,” said Vincenzo with a wink, springing out of his chair in a manner that belied his years. “I know just the place,” he added, tapping his nose with his forefinger. “C’mon, my treat. Andiamo.”
***
Lunch turned out to be a long affair. The restaurant looked nothing special: a small family-run trattoria on a backstreet, run by an old classmate of Vincenzo’s. The owner greeted them like long-lost friends and led them through the gloomy interior to a rooftop terrace ablaze with sunlight and terracotta pots full of marigolds in vivid shades of yellow and tangerine. It was late by lunch standards, approaching 2pm, and there was only one other couple on the far side of the terrace settling their bill and about to leave.
Vincenzo slapped his friend on the back. “Perfetto, Bruno. Eh, da mangiare, cosa ci consigli?”
Bruno gave his recommendations – the dishes of the day – verbally. No written menu was evident. And so began a long afternoon, not only of glorious food but also of working through in painstaking fashion the ins and outs of a plan that would hopefully entrap Luciano.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Back at the apartment, Hanna picked up her mobile and scrolled through her contacts with trembling hands, looking for the number. There it was: for some reason, she had never deleted it, maybe waiting for an opportunity such as this. But if the number had been changed, the plan would fall at its first hurdle. She pressed Dial and heard the ring tone, loud and clear. She gulped, her throat suddenly dry, worried she might not have the bottle to see this through after all.
“Pronto,” the once-familiar male voice answered.
Hanna switched on the speaker.
“It’s… it’s… Hanna here. We need to meet. I want a divorce. I’m only here for a few days, so it needs to be as soon as possible.” She managed to say the carefully-rehearsed words with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Silence. She had obviously caught him by surprise. A few moments passed. She was beginning to wonder if he was still there, when he responded.
“Yes, you’re right. We should put an end to things, once and for all.” His voice was cold, like that of a stranger. “We need to agree the conditions.”
“All I want is custody of Eva. I presume that won’t be a problem. I’m not looking for anything in terms of assets.” She was trying hard to keep her voice neutral and unemotional.
Another pause.
“Nothing at all?”
“No.”
“In that case, things should be straightforward.” He obviously couldn’t believe his luck. “I’ll get my lawyer to draw up the papers in the morning ready for you to sign. We could meet tomorrow afternoon. Is that soon enough?”
“Perfect. I’ll bring my lawyer with me. Tell me where.”
“I’ll send you the details in the morning. Just the two of you, okay? No funny business.”
Hanna swallowed hard. “’Course not. I simply want to move on and get the formalities over and done with. What time?”
“How about half past two?”
“That’s fine. See you then.”
“A domani, allora.”
The line went dead.
Hanna dropped the mobile on the table, conscious of her heart thudding. “How did I do?” she asked, her voice reduced to a rasp.
“Amazingly well,” said Ceri, placing her hand over Hanna’s with a reassuring smile.
“Absolutely,” Sergio agreed, an incredulous expression on his face.
“Better than we could ever have hoped for, cara,” Vincenzo added. “Looks like he’s swallowed the bait. Now we just have to make sure he doesn’t pull any tricks and slip through the net.”
***
Hanna glanced at her phone again: 11.07. Still no message. Perhaps he’s changed his mind, she thought. Sergio looked up from his laptop.
“Still nothing?” he asked.
Hanna shook her throbbing head. Her clothes clung to her clammy body. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and went out onto the small balcony to get some air. It was no better there, not a breath of wind. Dark storm clouds gathered in the distance.
She paced up and down, full of nervous energy, unsure whether she wanted the meeting to go ahead or not. It could be the perfect snare – one that offered her release from all formal shackles to the man she had once loved without question, and at the same time payback for his deceit and betrayal. Vincenzo had promised that his men wouldn’t intervene immediately, so there could be no direct link back to her. She would be free, and also free from fear of any future reprisals.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. She snatched it from her pocket and stared at the screen. Luciano. No address, only a set of GPS co-ordinates that she didn’t recognise.
“He’s made contact!” she yelled, thrusting the phone in front of Sergio’s face. He frowned, made a note of the GPS co-ordinates, and opened Google Maps on his laptop. A puzzled expression appeared on his face.
“Well, it’s somewhere up in the Madonian Mountains, but there aren’t any buildings marked in the vicinity. I can’t imagine that he’d arrange a meeting of this sort out in the open. Unless he suspects it’s a trap – or he’s trying to lure you into one.”
Hanna felt a buzz of alarm. What if, despite the wiretap conversation, Luciano did still think she was the one who’d turned him in? This might be his chance to turn the tables on her. Vincenzo had warned her that she could be putting herself at risk. What if he was right? Nothing – but nothing – could be taken at face value where Luciano was concerned. She should know that.
“Good job then that there will be police back-up in case of any trouble,” she said, feeling less confident than ever about the meeting.
Sergio glanced at his watch, his face grim. “We don’t have a lot of time. Acknowledge the message and confirm you’ll be there. We’ll talk it through when Dad gets here.”
***
Vincenzo lifted his varifocals, lodged them on his forehead and peered closely at the map on the screen.
“I’m not that familiar with the area,” he concluded nonchalantly, “but don’t assume that there isn’t a building there. The whole area is notoriously badly mapped, even the digital versi
on. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe it’s in certain people’s interests to keep it that way. But you may find that there’s a building there even if there’s no sign of one here. Whether there is or there isn’t, we’ll be there to protect you if things go pear-shaped.” He must have sensed her anxiety. “And no, we’ll only intervene if we have to. If you or Roberto are in any danger.”
The Roberto in question was sitting on the edge of the sofa, dressed in a tailored light grey suit, legs akimbo, polishing off his second espresso. Tall, with an athletic frame and fair hair, he bore little resemblance to the stereotypical Sicilian. But, Vincenzo explained, Sicilian he was, with generations-old French roots which probably accounted for his physique. Handsome and in his forties, he had studied and practised as a lawyer before changing direction a few years ago and heading into the police, where he’d made an immediate impression. He had quickly risen through the ranks to become Vincenzo’s trusted lieutenant. Vincenzo had chosen him specially for this task; he’d easily be able to spot any potential problems with the divorce papers that Luciano’s lawyer had prepared.
Roberto had shaken Hanna’s hand warmly on arrival, murmured a few niceties but had said very little else. However, Hanna noticed his eyes darting between them, listening intently to all that was said. This man is no fool, she thought, and felt reassured by his presence.
Vincenzo stood up. “Right,” he said. “We’d better make a move. You don’t want to be late and give Luciano cause for concern. You and Roberto go on ahead, and we’ll follow on. Forget about us, just go ahead with the meeting as planned. We’ll monitor the situation for any problems. Keep an eye on your phone for messages. And no, we won’t intervene unless we have to.”
Hanna nodded. Now that it was time to act, her legs had suddenly turned to jelly. Roberto flashed her a smile, his eyes a disconcerting ice blue that seemed more canine or lupine than human. Despite her faith in Vincenzo’s choice of colleague, her body reacted with an involuntary shudder.
Vincenzo placed his hand on Sergio’s shoulder. “You, figlio mio, are to stay here with Ceri, capisci?”
Sergio opened his mouth as if about to argue.
His father smiled sadly. “I’ve already lost one son. I can’t risk losing another.”
Chapter Fifty
Hanna climbed into the passenger seat of Roberto’s car, a metallic red Seat Arona SUV, parked a few streets away. It had been standing in full sun and the inside of the car was like a furnace, the fabric of the seats hot to the touch.
Roberto took off his suit jacket and threw it in the back before getting in next to her. He started up the engine and switched the air-con up high, before punching the GPS co-ordinates of the meeting place into the sat-nav.
“Try not to worry too much,” the lawyer-turned-policeman said, giving her a brief sideways glance before pulling away from the kerb out into the narrow street. “With any luck, you’ll get your divorce and see Luciano brought to justice in one fell swoop.”
Hanna remembered she had hoped for justice before with Luciano’s previous arrest, but, somehow, he’d managed to avoid serving his full sentence. And the idea she needed luck on her side filled her with gloom, although, she had to admit, a bit of luck would come in handy.
The thought of seeing Luciano again filled Hanna with dread. But, she reminded herself, this wasn’t solely about her; she was determined this time to help put an end to the trafficking that brought misery to so many migrants.
The car cooled rapidly as Roberto navigated his way expertly out of town, ignoring the sat-nav that insisted he go a different route. He laughed when, for the umpteenth time the voice demanded he do a U-turn and follow the recommended route.
“We’ll need it in the mountains, but here, in Cefalù, I know my way round better than any sat-nav,” he explained with a grin. “This is where I was brought up. I know these streets like the back of my hand, even the one-way system.”
Hanna felt herself begin to relax a little as he chattered on about how much Cefalù had changed over the years. From a humble fishing port, it had become a popular destination for tourists in the summer months.
“In fact,” he said, “the same is true of much of Sicily. Once a destination for the intrepid, now the darling of the package holidaymaker, especially those on cruises.” He screwed his face into a grimace. “They’re the worst. They turn the place into a theme park in the summer. I much prefer the Sicily of old, of my youth.”
Hanna had to laugh despite herself and the situation. “To hear you talk, anyone’d think you’re an old man.”
Roberto smiled. “I have some old-fashioned views. My wife would disagree. She works as a tour guide, so for her, the more tourists who come here, the better. She’s originally from Rome so is well used to the invading hordes. But me, I like the quiet life.”
His words conjured up brief memories of Hanna’s own experience of working as a tour guide in the days when Sicily was still an unusual destination. But she kept them to herself and resumed the conversation.
“Is that why you moved into the police?” she couldn’t resist asking.
Roberto’s face became more serious. “Law, police, it’s all for the same purpose: to liberate the island from those who want to manipulate it for their own ends. And release the grip that these people have on the way of life here.” His face took on a grim expression. “And it’s become our most famous export. Unfortunately.”
He fell silent as he continued to drive, now following the sat-nav’s instructions and glancing every so often at the map on the screen.
“Not far now,” he said, “Maybe another twenty minutes, half an hour or so. Shall we go through the plan again?”
Hanna nodded. For the next few minutes, they ran through everything they had discussed, with Roberto emphasising the key outcomes of the meeting. Hanna tried hard to concentrate and commit it all to memory.
“Don’t worry if you forget anything,” said Roberto who must have sensed her concern. “I’ll be by your side to prompt you.”
Hanna reached into her bag and took a long swig from the small bottle of water she extracted from within. It did little to quench her thirst, the water being lukewarm and tasting slightly metallic. She looked out of the window. The narrow winding road seemed vaguely familiar, as did the chestnut and cork oak forests they were driving through. Hanna felt a flutter of recognition in her stomach, and a feeling of déjà-vu crept over her.
“What is it, Hanna?” asked Roberto, as if sensing her change of mood.
“I’m not sure… How far away are we now?”
“Ten minutes maybe. Do you recognise where we are?”
Hanna peered at the map displayed on the sat-nav, adjusting the controls to zoom in and out.
“It can’t be… can it?” Hanna shifted her gaze from their surroundings to the map and back again, trying to get her bearings and find a landmark she might remember. As she looked out of the window, she spotted a small structure by the side of the road. “Roberto, can you pull up a minute?”
“Sure,” he said, braking and bringing the car to a standstill at the side of the road. “What is it?”
“I need to check something. Won’t be a sec.” Hanna slid out of her seat and approached the roadside shrine, sure now of what she would find. She read the inscription quickly – a nineteen-year-old who’d been killed in a road accident – and returned to the car.
“Christ, how stupid of me not to fathom it out before! I do know this area; I simply didn’t recognise it from the GPS co-ordinates he gave us. No wonder he didn’t give us the address. If I’m not mistaken, we’re going to the house we lived in when Eva was a baby.”
***
Why hadn’t Luciano told her? Could it be a trap? But what would he have to gain? The upper hand, as usual: the meeting would take place on his terms, on his territory, even if she’d instigated it. He’d be the one in control. For her, the location would bring memories flooding back, not only of the early days of their marriage when Eva
was a baby, but also of the kidnapping. She’d be at a definite disadvantage.
Next to her, Roberto was jabbering away on the hands-free phone to Vincenzo, in quick-fire almost impenetrable dialect that Hanna struggled to understand.
The terrain became more and more familiar as they drew nearer to their destination. Little had changed. The countryside altered only with the seasons; buildings were few, mostly agricultural in nature, shelters for the animals and such-like; and there at the crossroads leading up to the house, a ramshackle hall used for occasional church services by the itinerant parish priest.
Roberto took the single-track road that climbed steeply from the junction. Hanna felt beads of sweat break out across her forehead. She reached again for the bottle of water and drained the remains. The house should appear immediately after the next sharp bend. But instead, an ominous high fence swung into view. It appeared to surround the property, only interrupted by a set of electronic gates that revealed nothing of the house and gardens within.
Hanna’s hand flew involuntarily to her mouth in shock. “Oh, my God, what’s he done? He’s turned the place into a fortress.”
“It wasn’t like this before?” Roberto asked.
She shook her head. “No, there was no fence. I didn’t think that was allowed in the national park.”
“It’s not,” said Roberto grim-faced, stopping the car a short distance before the electronic gates. “Obviously Luciano acts as if he has special privileges.”
Hanna’s face fell. This didn’t bode well. “He’s always been arrogant. Thinks he’s untouchable. Probably more so, since wriggling out of a long prison sentence.”
Roberto turned to her. “Will you be okay to see this through?” he asked, with a look of concern.
“I’ll have to be,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Roberto drove up to the gates and slipped out of the driving seat. As he announced their arrival over the entry system’s intercom, a camera blinked, capturing his image. Designed to deter any unwelcome visitors, Hanna thought with a shiver.