Cut and Run

by Fern Michaels

  “Then maybe I should shoot this young one, who is so frantically praying on his beads. Or your constable, or his deputy. I don’t think they’re ready to meet their Maker quite yet,” Araceli snarled

  The old priest winced. He wanted to do something, anything, to change what was going on, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Even if a weapon were to suddenly appear in his hands, he knew he could not use it. He prayed silently.

  Tired of baiting the old priest, Enrico wandered to the far end of the kitchen, so he could study his phone in the dim light. He pressed the button on his speed dial that would connect him with Annie’s business manager. There were no amenities. “Well?”

  Connor’s reply was curt. “As I told you a dozen times already, this cannot be done in your time frame. Suffice it to say it is being done, but it will be another few hours at least, with certainty by dawn your time. Now, stop calling me and taking up my time.” Enrico blinked at the sudden ending of the call. He frowned. This was the first time since he’d connected one-on-one with the financial wizard that the man had talked back to him. Something was afoot. His eyes narrowed to mean slits. He could almost smell it. But what was it?

  Enrico leaned against the wall, his gaze never leaving the two old priests except to glance down at the latest news reports, which he was obsessed with receiving. He got text alerts every few minutes. It was, to him, the fastest and only way to keep up with what he called life.

  Nothing alarming. He walked over to the constable and his deputy. He stared at them for a full minute before he turned and walked back to the living area. The young priest was still fingering his beads. The old priest was dozing in his chair.

  Things were too quiet. He called his men, his own private little army, to check in with how everything was progressing. Like he really cared if people were hungry or children were crying or people needed to use the bathroom. His last call was to his two derelict brothers. “Talk to me.”

  “You’re an ass wipe, Rico,” Mateo said.

  “I’m going to have to teach you some respect very soon, Mateo. What’s going on?”

  “Your guard went out and never came back. But I guess you already know that, and that’s why you’re calling. How’s that for talking?”

  “What are you talking about? When did he leave?”

  “Maybe half an hour ago. The man is an ass wipe like you are, so we really didn’t do much talking. He didn’t ask permission to go out; he just walked out the door, and he has not come back. I just checked to see if he was under the overhang smoking, but he isn’t there. And don’t even think about telling me to go out and look for him. If you are so concerned about him, do it yourself.”

  Enrico ended the call and immediately called the guard in question. The call went straight to voice mail. Crap. He didn’t even know the man’s name. He was just one of the crew he’d signed on for 300 euros. He left a curt message, then tried the number again, with the same results. Something was up. He’d sensed it earlier. Mutiny?

  Doubtful, since no one had been paid as yet. The thought that his two brothers might somehow be involved floated through his head. No, they were cowards. They’d never cross or betray him, they were family.

  Then what?

  Chapter 14

  The van was crowded and steamy, with the heater running at full blast. The temperature gauge said the outdoor temperature was thirty-seven degrees. Tempers were short, with Cyrus’s the shortest. He wanted action, not lying under a seat that smelled like dead fish. He alternated between growling and whining. Even a treat couldn’t pacify him.

  “It’s a long time till morning,” Dennis complained. “Are we just going to sit here and wait?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Ted barked. “Would a sing-along or a storytelling hour make you happy? If so, go hit up Snowden and see what he’s up to.”

  Dennis clamped his lips shut and slumped down in his seat. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what was to come. He opened his eyes to squint at the green numerals on his watch. The girls should be arriving anytime now. Hopefully, things would run true to form.

  Once the women were on scene in any other mission, things started to happen faster than flying bullets. He wondered why that was. He made a mental note to ask Jack, who was an authority on all things women. He settled back, the soft murmurs of the others lulling him into a light sleep.

  “What are you thinking, mate?” Fergus asked, poking Charles lightly on the arm.

  “Nothing good, Ferg. Nothing good. I’m trying to wrap my brain around a man who would threaten to kill a priest. Dealing with someone like that is not something we have ever come up against. We have to assume that the men Avery calls wharf rats are just like him, and killing the villagers will be no big deal to them. We need to tread lightly here.”

  “When you say we, do you mean us, or are you including the women when they get here?”

  Charles rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks and chin. Fergus could actually hear the rough scrape as his hands moved back and forth. “The women are fearless. And that’s what worries me.” Fergus nodded in agreement.

  Both men turned silent as they listened to the rain slam on top of the van. It wasn’t a soothing sound, more like subdued gunfire. “They’re late, Ferg. They should have been here thirty minutes ago. I’m starting to worry.”

  Fergus nodded, but said, “Kathryn is an experienced driver. It’s the rain, and these roads aren’t like the smooth ones we have back in the States. They’ll get here even if they have to crawl. You more than anyone should know that.”

  “I do, but that still doesn’t stop me from worrying. It’s not like them not to be calling with progress reports.”

  “They might be sleeping,” Fergus said lamely.

  Cyrus reared up and barked. He sprinted to the front of the van. He threw his head back and let loose with an unholy howl.

  “I think the girls have just arrived, Charles. You were worried for nothing, mate.”

  “Open the door for him, Charles,” Jack called from the back of the van.

  Cyrus was through the door lightning fast. A bolt of thunder sounded, drowning out all other noise.

  Charles’s phone rang. He clicked it on. “We’re here, dear. What do you suggest? We can’t all fit in any van, so let’s just talk until this rain lets up. Avery is here with us, as is Cyrus. First things first, how far are we from the village? Are we safe in this area? What’s the plan at first light? Will we be visible?”

  “A mile from the village, luv. We are as safe as we can be. If Araceli sends out a few of his men to check the area, that may change. The plan at first light is for Jack and Harry to head to the village and the rectory posing as members of a mountain-climbing club. Other members to arrive by midmorning. The back story is that two guides in the village, young boys, actually, agreed for a healthy fee to take the club up the mountain. The meeting place is to be the rectory. That’s the plan. For now. What’s up on your end?”

  Myra explained what she knew about Annie’s business manager and Abner and the money transfer. “All communication between Enrico and us is through Connor. They are stalling on the wire transfer until dawn. He said he wants Annie at the rectory to write the letter he’s demanding. He wants it all done at once. We’re stalling on that, too.”

  “All right, luv, sit tight. Are you keeping Cyrus, Jack wants to know.”

  Myra laughed. “Right now he’s snuggling with Nikki, so yes, for now, he’s with us.” Her voice changed to a low, intimate level. “I can’t wait to see you. I’ve really missed you, dear.”

  Charles was so choked up he nodded, until he realized Myra couldn’t see him. “And I you, luv. Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Fergus looked so crestfallen, Charles clapped him on the back. He was about to whisper some consoling words when his phone vibrated. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his old friend move so fast. He turned away, a smile on his face, when he heard Fergus say, “Annie! Are you all right
? God, I missed you. Will you marry me?”

  The occupants of the van turned silent. Five minutes later, they asked as one, “What did she say?”

  “She said she’ll give it some serious thought. I’m thinking that’s almost as good as a yes.” The gang hooted and hollered as they clapped Fergus on the back.

  “If I had a flag, I’d run it up the flagpole. Annie never says anything she doesn’t mean. Let’s all think positive when she gets around to thinking seriously about your proposal.”

  Fergus leaned back in his seat, a sappy look on his face. He closed his eyes. Everyone suddenly knew what he was thinking. Annie walking down the aisle with Fergus, and the rest of them waiting at the altar.

  The van went silent and remained that way until they heard Cyrus scratching at the door. Charles felt his eyes snap open. It was getting light out, and the rain had finally stopped. He opened the door. Cyrus raced to the back of the van and literally leaped onto Jack’s lap, yipping and yapping the whole time. They tussled for a few minutes until Jack whistled for silence.

  “Listen up, people. Not a good idea to congregate outside. A crowd like ours just begs to be noticed, so let’s just stay in telephone contact. It’s seven o’clock. At seven thirty, Harry and I will walk into the village and head straight for the rectory. I’ll give whomever answers the door our spiel, and from there on in it’s a crapshoot. We could be invited in and become prisoners. Or they could slam the door in our faces. Again, a crapshoot. We are taking Cyrus with us. My gut is telling me we’ll become immediate prisoners. Any comments?” There were no comments.

  “Annie is waiting for us to give her the signal to head to the village. It’s going to take her a bit longer than it will take the two of you because of her injured knee. The girls are waiting to hear from Connor and Abner. The moment he’s ready to do the wire transfer, she will start out. Forty minutes tops,” Charles said.

  “We need to do a check, Jack. What are you and Harry carrying with you in the way of ID,” Fergus asked.

  “We have to pick it up from Snowden, along with the gear he wants us to carry. He said he has some kind of machine that cranks out IDs that will pass muster. We belong to the Sierra Mountain Climbers. A bogus credit card along with a bogus Canadian driver’s license. We are carrying euros and good old American money. Harry has Vietnamese currency and some euros as well. His driver’s license will be from Vietnam. The Sierra Mountain Climbers is a worldwide organization, should the question come up. Our guides are supposed to be two young men from the village, brothers named Berto and Franko. Harry and I will be carrying burner phones that Snowden will have preprogrammed. There are seven of us making the climb. The other five are to arrive midmorning. We’re to say we already paid the guides two thousand euros. We have a crumpled-up receipt to prove it. I think that covers it. All we have to do is pick up our mountain-climbing gear and the rest of the stuff.”

  Harry made his way to the front of the van, Cyrus right behind him, with Jack bringing up the rear.

  “Be careful, Jack,” Dennis said.

  “I will, Dennis. You take care, too.”

  Snowden was waiting for them and had everything ready. There was no conversation. The boys loaded up and waved airily as they started off, Cyrus in the lead.

  “What do we do if this maniac asks where our vehicle is? No one mentioned that,” Harry said.

  “We had to leave it so the other climbers would know we’re on the scene. They are waiting for us. It’s thin as far as explanations go, but it should work. If not, oh, well! I wasn’t expecting this cold,” Jack said, hunkering into his shearling jacket.

  “Wuss,” Harry snapped.

  Cyrus stopped and looked back at Harry to be sure he’d heard right. “Get over it, Cyrus.” Harry grinned.

  “One of these days, that dog is going to take a chunk out of your ass for insulting me,” Jack said.

  “What do you think I’ll be doing while he’s biting my ass?”

  “Bleeding!” Jack guffawed. Cyrus yipped his agreement.

  “Enough. I can see the village. What time is it?”

  “Almost eight o’clock. We’re on schedule. Do you see any activity?”

  “Negative. Where’s the rectory?”

  “Snowden said it’s the third building on the right. Brick. Small building, small porch. Big tree in the front yard. I can see it. You see it, Harry?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go for it!”

  Cyrus fell back and walked alongside Jack. He was quivering with excitement.

  “Easy, boy, easy.”

  “Okay, we’re here,” Jack said, walking up the three steps to the small porch. He stomped his feet to alert the people inside that there was company at the door. He pounded three short thumps with his closed fist.

  The door was opened almost immediately by a young priest. His collar gleamed in the gloomy morning. “Can I help you?” he stammered.

  “I hope so,” Jack said cheerfully. “I’m sorry we’re late, but the weather held us up. Are you Father Mendoza?”

  “No, no, I’m Father Diaz. Why are you here?”

  “To do the climb. Father Mendoza set it all up. We’re to meet two brothers here at the rectory to take us up the mountain as soon as the other members get here. They should be here by midmorning. You look surprised, Father. Is there some sort of problem?” Jack asked, his voice sounding worried. “Are the guides here? Berto and Franco are their names. We already paid them two thousand euros.”

  “I . . . I don’t know. Father Mendoza didn’t tell me he was expecting anyone. I don’t know anything about a mountain-climbing expedition.”

  Jack let impatience creep into his voice. “Well, then may I make a suggestion? Ask Father Mendoza. It’s cold out here. Can we at least step inside until we straighten this out?”

  The door was suddenly ripped wide open, and the young priest was yanked backward into the room. A tall man brandishing a gun appeared out of nowhere. Jack and Harry took a step backward; Cyrus did the same thing.

  Jack’s and Harry’s hands immediately shot in the air. “Whoa, whoa! Look, we don’t want any trouble. Keep the money. We’ll do the climb without the guides. Sorry we bothered you.”

  “Shut up! Get in here, so we can give you your refund.” The voice was a snarl, but it was the way the man held the gun that convinced Jack and Harry to do his bidding. Cyrus trotted along next to Jack, his ears straight up, his tail tucked between his legs.

  “What’s going on?” Harry squeaked, his face full of panic.

  “I told you to shut up. Get over there at the table and sit down. Keep that dog quiet, or I’ll shoot him.”

  Cyrus knew a threat when he heard one. He immediately dropped to his belly at Jack’s feet.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “I told you. We’re mountain climbers. We belong to a club. Father Mendoza arranged two guides to take our small club up the mountain. That’s what we do on our vacation. We heard about this mountain owned by the de Silva family. The information we had said the family was royalty and some count owned it now, but that it was abandoned. We wanted to check it out. Why are you holding a gun? You can keep the two thousand euros. Just let us go. We’ll find another mountain to climb. Where’s Father Mendoza?”

  “I’m over here, my son. I’m sorry for this poor reception. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “What is happening, Father? We don’t understand.”

  “I ask the questions. Who are you?” Enrico demanded again.

  “I just told you who we are. We’re just normal people on vacation who just happen to be mountain climbers. There is nothing else I can tell you.”

  “I don’t believe you. Who sent you here? Empty your pockets and put everything on the table.”

  “The main chapter of our group. They found this place, and we jumped on it. More to the point, who are you?” Jack asked boldly, as he and Harry emptied their pockets.

  “I’m the guy with the gun. Just sit th
ere and be quiet. Make a move, and I’ll shoot the old priest, then the dog. No talking.”

  Enrico walked away to where Father Mendoza was sitting at his desk. He looked down at his phone and saw that an incoming call was from Connor. Once again, there were no amenities. Connor got right to the point. “The wire transfer will be ready to go in thirty minutes. I’ve just heard from the countess. She is on her way to you. She gave me instructions to wait to do the transfer until she is in your company. Call me when she arrives, and we’ll make the transfer.”

  Enrico was about to chastise the financial wizard but realized he would be talking to dead air.

  It was happening. He’d done it. Finally. Enrico grew so light-headed, he thought he was going to black out. He gave his head a shake to clear it. He looked down at the phone and punched in his brother’s number. “Mateo, come up here to the rectory. Has the guard returned?”

  “Why? No, he has not returned.”

  “Because I said so. There has been an unforeseen situation, and I need you. Quickly, Mateo, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “Hey, you with the gun, what’s going on here? Come on, man. Let us get on with our climb. We’re out a lot of money here, man?” Jack yelled across the room.

  “It’s not your concern. Father,” he said to the young priest, “fetch me the things on the table. Frisk them, and do not be shy about it. Move!” Enrico bellowed.

  “Stand up, señor,” Father Diaz said gently, as he ran his hands up and down Jack’s body. Jack whispered, hoping the priest wasn’t too panicked to listen to him.

  “We’re the good guys, Father. We’re here to help you. Annie sent us.” The young priest stumbled but righted himself as he moved over to Harry.

  “There are no weapons,” he called out. Father Diaz gathered up the ID cards, the cell phones, and the money. He carried it all back and dropped it on the old priest’s desk. Enrico picked up the cards and looked at them carefully.

  “These look new.”

  “That’s because they are new. Look at the renewal date. We just got new cards two weeks ago. What’s going on here? Who the hell are you?”