by Saul, Jonas
“Yes. I usually work alone anyway. I don’t want to have to watch your back too.”
He looked at her. She smiled at him.
They walked on in silence until the walled city of Montone came into view. A few buildings had been built on the outside of the walls in the last hundred years or so. A pizzeria was open on the right. Sarah ran in to locate two bottles of water.
She had spent the last few days traveling and not having to look over her shoulder as they stayed on the move. Now, as she walked into the little restaurant she immediately felt herself become wary. She was back on the clock. Do I ever go off the clock, she asked herself.
Parkman waited outside as they had decided that they’d never do anything together while in Montone.
Two customers sat eating at a table in the corner and a lone man dressed all in black stood at the counter sipping from a very small cup. The man behind the counter was overweight and wearing a large white apron with stains on it. Sarah scanned the small pizzeria and saw what she was looking for. A Coca-Cola cooler stood in the corner. She walked over to it, keeping a peripheral eye on everyone, and grabbed two bottles of water. She turned back to the counter and pulled out a couple American dollars. They didn’t plan on staying in Italy for long so they hadn’t changed any money over to Euros yet.
Sarah had no idea what to say in Italian.
The heavy owner came over to her and said, “Buongiorno.”
She handed him a couple American one dollar bills. He accepted them with a smile.
Sarah headed for the door but not before looking back at the man dressed in black. He’d been watching her the whole time she was in the pizzeria.
Parkman was waiting across the street, surveying the hills beyond.
“Parkman, here’s your water.”
She opened hers and chugged half of it back before Parkman even started on his.
“Any problems in there?”
“There was a guy all dressed in black that stared at me the whole time. I didn’t engage him as I would have no idea what to say in Italian so I let him stare and here I am.”
“It’s probably nothing. If it was one of Soprano’s men he wouldn’t have made it so obvious.”
They turned and headed up the cobblestoned ramp that led into Montone, passing through where a gate had once kept invaders out.
The town was vast, the walls high and made of fieldstone. Sarah was in awe at the immense walls and sheer height of the buildings from an era gone by. A couple of tourists walked by speaking English in a distinctive British accent.
Parkman lightly touched Sarah’s arm and pulled her to the side. “Okay, Sarah, here’s where I go my way and you yours.”
“Where do we meet?”
“No idea. Look, if you’re supposed to be here and there’s some leader of an immigration scam group here, as per Vivian who seems to always be right, then my guess is you will be meeting them soon. I’m going to go my way, but I’ll be watching for you too. Worst case, we meet at sundown out here at the gates and walk back to Umbertide. When we came in on the train I saw a hotel called Hotel Rio. We’ll stay there the night. Deal?”
“Sure. Just be careful. And watch out for guys dressed all in black. I don’t know why but that guy got under my skin.”
Parkman nodded and walked away, heading up a ramp to another part of the town. Sarah continued straight which led her to an open square.
Does every town have a piazza? she asked herself.
Two different restaurants served meals and wine to the patrons seated outside under umbrellas. One of them served gelato. She scanned the people and watched the buildings about her but found nothing untoward.
Four or five cobblestone paths led away from the piazza in multiple directions. She had no idea which one to take or where any of them would lead.
She decided on the one on the right just past the gelateria. As she turned up it and started her ascent, she realized that she was being watched. There was no way she would be able to enter Montone and not be watched. Not if the boss was here. No way.
But where were they watching her from?
She climbed the narrow road that almost looked like a wide path. When she turned a corner she saw two men sitting on a bench. Neither one was dressed in black. They appeared to be in their fifties or sixties, idly watching as people walked by.
It must be an Italian thing. She’d seen it before in Bologna and Umbertide.
When she passed she kept them in her peripheral. They had looked at her but paid her no special attention.
She wondered how Parkman was getting along. Maybe they should have had cell phones or some other form of communication in case either one of them required help. Although, since this working together thing was new to Sarah, it wouldn’t have been something she would’ve thought of.
When she reached the top of the little road she saw a group of seven men setting up some kind of concert apparatus. Maybe they were going to have a show or a festival event of some kind. Lights and a stage were being fixed up. Two black vans were parked with their back doors open as everyone worked away at getting things ready for whatever was coming.
An old man with a cane was coming toward her. She smiled and moved to step past him.
“Another funeral,” he said.
Sarah was surprised and elated to hear English. “You speak English. That’s great.”
The old man stopped walking and leaned heavily on his cane. He had to look up at her as he was about five feet tall.
“My son went to school in America. I learned English many years ago.”
He had an accent but Sarah couldn’t place it.
“What’s your accent? It doesn’t sound Italian.”
“That’s what happens when you have an American educated son and a British wife. My Italian is fine but my English has been confused.”
Sarah smiled. Cute old man. She looked around to make sure he wasn’t a decoy, trying to avert her attention to a possible attack. The men setting up the stage were all acting normal. There were no furtive glances or hushed words. None of them even noticed her standing and talking to the old man.
Maybe there was nothing in Montone after all? But then why would Vivian say she should use the fire?
“Well, your English sounds great to me. I don’t know any Italian so it’s a pleasure to talk to you. What was that you said about another funeral?”
“They’re setting up for a funeral. Similar to a eulogy in your country. The mayor does this big speech and everyone comes to pay their respects.”
“Who died? Was it someone important? Did you know the person?”
A soft breeze wafted past Sarah, cooling the sweat on her forehead. She lifted the water bottle and drained the rest of it.
The area was quiet other than the men who continued their work. Everything felt right in the world.
“A Hungarian man died.”
Alarm bells started ringing. “Hungarian? Why is there a funeral all the way out here in Montone?”
“The man’s body won’t be here. This is more of a ceremonial funeral. The man died in Hungary yesterday. He was in custody, so I’ve been told. People here in Montone worked with him. They set all this up as a way to send a message.”
Alarm bells in her head were firing rapidly now. A message? What kind of message? Was this a mafia thing?
“I’m not sure I’m following. Wait,” Sarah raised a finger and paused. She wanted to see if this old man knew more than he was letting on. “Do you know a man named Drake Bellamy?”
The old man looked away and then started away from her, using his cane to guide him.
“Come in about an hour and watch the funeral. Then you’ll see what I’m talking about. It’s disgusting but necessary. So they say.”
“So who says?” she asked. “You didn’t answer my question.” But the old man was already ten feet away. He waved his hand to say goodbye.
Sarah moved from the area quickly, intent on finding Parkman.
> Something was happening and it was connected to Hungary. A man died in custody and a funeral for him was being held in an hour in Montone. Too coincidental.
That’s probably why that man in the pizzeria where she bought the water was dressed in black.
And why did the old man walk away when she asked about Drake Bellamy?
Maybe finding out who died in Hungarian custody would shed some light on what was happening here?
She headed down the cobblestone road she’d come up and searched for Parkman for almost forty five minutes. She couldn’t find him anywhere. All the people in the town square had left and the shops had closed. Montone almost seemed like it had turned into a ghost town in under an hour.
The funeral would be starting shortly. That must be the reason. Everyone was going to be present at the eulogy.
She started back to where the men had been setting everything up with the intention of finding the old Italian man. She would need him to translate the service for her.
But where was Parkman?
Chapter 15
People were assembled in the area in front of the stage. Sarah leaned against a stone wall and watched everything from the rear. She counted at least one hundred people. Men, women and children stood around, chatting to each other. At least eighty percent of them were dressed in black.
There was a congregation of men around the podium area. They stood by three vehicles that had made it up the narrow cobblestone roads. Things were definitely abuzz. Something was happening and it was big for this little town.
Sarah kept her eyes out for any sign of Parkman but couldn’t see him. Had things gone south already?
She looked at the surrounding buildings. Windows as high as three stories up were closed with their shutters closed too. A survey of the roofs eased her concerns of snipers.
“Sarah, ready for the show?” the old man from earlier stood two feet away.
She couldn’t help it. She actually jumped. “Yeah.” She collected herself and then asked, “Does this happen often?”
“No, only when someone dies.”
“I realize that. What I mean is, how often is this kind of spectacle taking place for a funeral?”
“Every time.”
So much for getting a straight answer.
The old man started walking away.
“Wait. I could sure use you as a translator?”
He slowed and turned back to face her. “I’m performing the ceremony. I’ll translate what you need to hear.”
With that he turned and walked away.
He’s performing the ceremony? What the fuck does that mean? Who is this old guy?
Things weren’t adding up. He walked away earlier when he heard the name Drake Bellamy. He knows Italian, British English and American English. He’s old and he’s the one doing the eulogy. This old man knew about the dead man in Hungarian custody. What else did he know? Could he be the one she was looking for?
As the old man reached the stairs that allowed access to the platform where the microphone was set up, he tossed his cane to the side, righted himself and walked up the steps two at a time.
Shit, another Jack Tate. All this time the old man was the guy she was looking for.
Jack Tate was the alias Armond Stuart used on Sarah all those months ago when she didn’t know what he looked like.
She quickly checked her surroundings. No one appeared to be watching her or getting too close. Give it a few minutes and then she’d leave. Something about Montone was getting under her skin. It seemed too intense, too scary, too closed in.
She never thought she’d feel on edge about such a beautiful place but it was giving off bad vibes now.
The old man had reached the microphone and started speaking in Italian to the crowd. People responded randomly. Some shook their heads, while others nodded and clapped.
What is this?
It reminded her of a cult or a ceremony of some kind.
Then she heard her name.
“Sarah Roberts. She’s over there.”
The old man was pointing. She felt the eyes of everyone devour her as they turned to stare. Then the thought hit her. When did I ever tell him my name?
Like an animal being hunted, she suddenly felt the urge to run. An equal urge to make those responsible pay in blood, rose in her too.
“Sarah has been the cause of all this turmoil,” the old man continued in English. “Not only does she show up here, but she comes announcing the name Drake Bellamy. And look who she brought with her.”
The old man pointed to the roof of a building on Sarah’s right.
She looked up. On the roof of a three-story building stood five men dressed in black. In between them stood Parkman. His hands were tied behind him and he had a gag in his mouth.
When Sarah looked back at the podium two men dressed in black had moved in close to her. Each man stood on either side four feet away.
The hundred people who had showed up for the ceremony were slowly dispersing. Everything was quiet for a moment. Who would make the first move?
Sarah looked back up to the roof. No one was there anymore. They had moved Parkman away from the edge.
The old man had walked from the microphone and stepped off the podium. He turned and started toward her.
What was all this for? Could they have staged this whole event to capture me? Why, when all they had to do was take me on any street? There was definitely enough men and weapons to handle that.
He stood before her now. “Let’s walk and talk. I want to know what you know.”
Sarah shook her head. “Actually it’s the other way around.”
The old man had turned away but stopped and looked back at her. “What did you say?”
“I want to know what you know, asshole. I am here to close this immigration business down and if I can’t succeed then I’m here to expose it for what it is.”
He turned fully and addressed her. “Your reputation precedes you. I’ve heard all about your accomplishments. You can be quite dangerous. That’s why we needed to be prepared. But now that you’re in my grasp, I don’t fear you. Armond informed me about you and your sister. We’re prepared.”
“Armond Stuart?”
Sarah started breathing heavy. Her anger was boiling over. These men would think it was anxiety or fear. That would be their mistake.
“Yes. He told me who you are and that you’re hunting him. Did you know that he is one of my best customers? There is no way I could ever allow any harm to come to him.”
Sarah began putting it all together.
“The Hungarian man who died in custody was István wasn’t it? The man who told me where to find you, Mr. Tony Soprano.”
The old man turned and walked away without another word.
In that moment something banged hard above, making her duck down. The shutters of numerous windows had been whipped open over her head. When she looked up she counted seven different men holding rifles with scopes on them.
“You’ve been watched since the moment you entered Montone,” the old man said from about ten feet away. “Did you think you could just walk into our lair without any of us knowing you’re here?” He slowed and turned to his men in the windows. “Kill her in the street like a rabid dog if she doesn’t start walking in two seconds.”
Sarah waited and watched. Two seconds wasn’t very long. She stepped forward as the first bullet passed close enough to be heard as it cut the air by her head. Her next step was quicker.
Real fear of death turned her stomach. As angry as she was she couldn’t accomplish anything dead, so she kept walking.
The two men dressed in black on either side of her stepped up closer and walked with her.
As she followed the old man new shutters opened and ones further away closed.
How many men did this guy have working for him?
They guided her down a sloping cobblestone road and onto the front steps of a church. Two large wooden doors were opened as she neared t
he entrance. She could no longer see the old man. He had already entered the church.
Sarah stepped into the centuries-old church and took in her surroundings. Long wooden pews sat facing the front. The roof was made of stone with huge paintings on all four walls.
She was shoved forward by one of the men behind her.