by Thomas Locke
Reese turned and fled.
54
Perhaps it was not the most organized assault in the history of Italian police work. Mainly because by the time they scaled the final steep rise and arrived at the cars, they were all puffing so hard none of them could shout a thing.
Edoardo leaned against the second car’s hood, tapped the windshield with his badge, and aimed down the length of his gun barrel.
Alessandro realized his friend was too winded to speak, so he did the honors. “Guardia di Finanza! Hands where we can see them! Remain absolutely still! You are surrounded!”
The astonishment on the faces inside the cars was almost comic. Clearly it must have seemed as though the officers had been fashioned from the impossibly brilliant sunlight.
Edoardo scrabbled at the door latch. The female officer did the same at the driver’s door of the first car. Adrenaline so fueled the young officers that for those inside the cars, it might have seemed as though they all moved in tandem. All the young officers began shrieking as loud as their winded bodies permitted. They yelled for the men inside to come out, keep their hands in the open, make no sudden moves.
Alessandro found it necessary to wipe his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. It appeared as though the four young officers were shouting whatever order came first into their heads. He was fairly certain one of them yelled that this was a one-way street. Thankfully, the men inside the cars knew the drill, undoubtedly better than the young officers. All but one emerged from the cars and assumed the position against the villa’s ancient walls. The remaining man made an extremely Italian suggestion to the female officer. She made sure he regretted it.
Edoardo supervised as the men were cuffed and one of the officers scampered downhill to fetch the police van. Then he turned to Alessandro and asked, “You are okay, old friend?”
“Apparently so.”
“No bullet holes anywhere?”
“I believe I might have noticed such a thing.”
“I’m not so sure about that, given your current mental state.”
“Guns make ever so much noise. I’m sure I would have heard.”
One of the thugs said, “You’ve no right to arrest us for sitting here enjoying the view.”
Edoardo turned to rebuke the man. But before he could speak, the young woman stepped over and snarled, “Did you hear anybody address you? No you did not.”
“This is harassment.”
She kicked his legs farther apart. “Shut up and take a good look at the wall. It’s the only view you’re going to have for the next ten years.”
Edoardo turned back around and lifted his eyebrows at Alessandro, who nodded agreement. The woman definitely had potential.
A shadow flitted across the road, a wraith slipping across a sunlit stage.
“Sir!”
The shadow became a youth. One Alessandro had seen before. The young man’s name was Julio, and he carried one of Alessandro’s appropriated air pistols.
Alessandro said, “Everything is fine, Officer Benedetti.”
Julio cast him a grin and a thumbs-up as he leapt through the gates.
“Sir, that man was armed with—”
“There was no man,” Edoardo growled. “And since there was no man, there was no weapon. Are we clear on that?”
The woman looked from Edoardo to Alessandro and back again. “Absolutely, sir.”
Edoardo actually smiled. “Officer Benedetti, have you ever thought of a career with the Guardia di Finanza?”
55
The villa’s downstairs hallway was ten miles long.
Reese made the final turn by slamming into the front wall. She scrambled up the three stone stairs and tore at the front door. She heard crashes and yells behind her. She felt Charlie Hazard’s approach like a dragon’s breath on her neck.
One of Trace’s men stumbled down the main stairway. He managed to hold himself upright by hugging one arm around the banister. Reese screamed at him, “Hazard is behind me! Shoot him! Shoot!”
The man’s shoulder and neck and cheek were all leaking blood from tiny needle-sized wounds. He gasped and tried to speak, waving the silenced pistol in a wild sweep.
Reese clawed open the door and raced down the front stairs. She kept herself upright by taking a two-fisted grip on the sunlight.
Somehow she made it down the gravel drive. She had no idea whether someone was behind her or not. She could hear nothing but the whimper of her too-tight breaths and the thrashing tree limbs overhead. She flew through a crystal veil of sunlit rain.
The gatehouse appeared before her. Beyond that was the entrance and freedom. She had never moved so fast in her entire life. Her feet skipped over a cushion of air, not even touching the earth. Not even when she slipped on wet leaves and had to use both hands on the gravel, not even when she felt blood seeping from a wound on one wrist. She touched nothing. Saw nothing but the two stone pillars marking her escape.
A figure appeared beside the gatehouse, like the sunlight had coalesced into a final guardian. He lifted a hand. And fired.
She felt a tiny stab just below her left collarbone. Like a bee sting. Nothing that would come close to slowing her down.
Except her legs suddenly lost the ability to carry her forward.
Reese watched the gravel path lift up and slam into her face. She kept whimpering, kept drawing in that one breath that would refuel her escape.
A young man who looked vaguely familiar leaned down close enough to smile into her face. “I’d tell you, sweet dreams. But hey, why waste my breath?”
56
Gabriella huddled with the rest of her team at the back of the cave. Before them were the long planks they had used to cross from the villa’s top rear window to the cave’s mouth. Gunfire erupted five different times, shattering the windows and the balcony doors she could see from her station at the front of the group.
Then nothing.
Wind howled and moaned beyond their rocky haven. Behind where Gabriella stood gripping the air pistol, someone whimpered. She wanted to tell them it was all right. Charlie was out there. They were safe. But she could not find the air to speak the words.
Outside the cave, branches shook and weaved, like the trees needed to share her fear. Her vision felt scarred by the flickering shadows.
When a scrabbling sound came through the opening, Gabriella gripped her weapon so hard she thought her bones would break. Then a voice called, “Don’t shoot.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes.” A shape rose gradually into view. But the sunlight was strong behind him, and it was suddenly very hard to see beyond the veil shimmering before her eyes. “It’s over.”
Alessandro returned the salute from the young policewoman. Officer Benedetti was seated in the passenger seat of a blue police van. Two of her fellow officers were seated in the rear with the captured thugs. Alessandro watched the van trundle down the hill and said, “Such fine young people. Italy should be so very proud.”
Edoardo grunted. “The woman’s not bad.”
“You certainly made her day. Were you serious about that job offer?”
“I never joke about such matters. Our lives hang in the balance.” His smile was scarcely more than a squint, like he was taking aim at a memory. “Did you see her confront the driver?”
“I fear that happened around the time of my heart attack from running up that hill.”
“He tried to give her lip. She almost pulled him through the window.” Edoardo’s eyes tightened further. “She’s small and she’s young and she’s angry about being both. She should fit in very well with my team.”
A few villagers clustered down by the funicular station, their curiosity in conflict with their innate Italian desire to have nothing whatsoever to do with the police.
Alessandro gave them a cheery little wave. “I wonder how the main event has gone.”
Edoardo grunted again. “Perhaps we should go see.”
“The villa does seem a bi
t quiet.”
As they approached the main gates, Charlie appeared between the stone pillars. “Are the other officers gone?”
“Indeed so. How are your friends?”
“Safe.”
“Excellent. Allow me to introduce my dear friend Edoardo di Santo. Edoardo is with the anti-Mafia force of the Guardia di Finanza. You must forgive him. He is convinced he speaks perfect English. Unfortunately, he is mistaken.”
Edoardo shook Charlie’s hand and said, “Poor Alessandro. He has problem in head. Very serious. So sad.”
Charlie nodded as though it all made perfect sense. “There are a few more head cases up at the villa. We could sure use your help with them.”
As they walked the gravel drive, Alessandro took time to study the American. Charlie had a bruise forming where his jaw met his neck. A thin line of blood ran from his left wrist to the sleeve. Alessandro could not tell whether the blood belonged to Charlie. The man held himself slightly curved as he walked, leading Alessandro to wonder if he might have cracked a rib. Edoardo noticed the wounds also, as well as the man’s silent disregard for his state. He caught Alessandro’s eye and nodded once. Charlie Hazard was his kind of man.
They entered the villa together and stopped in the front portico. Gabriella stood there frowning at Edoardo. “Who is this?”
“Alessandro’s friend.”
“He is police?”
Edoardo stated, “Guardia di Finanza, signora.”
She crossed her arms. “Is this a good idea, Charlie?”
Alessandro watched how the warrior gave her room. A strong man acknowledging the lead of an equally strong woman.
Charlie said, “It’s your call. But I say yes.”
Edoardo did not seem to be the least bit fazed by the exchange. He crossed to the staircase, where divots had been torn from the railing. The villa’s air still stank from cordite. “Interesting.”
Alessandro suggested, “Perhaps this lovely villa was once attacked in the last war.”
Edoardo flicked away a bit of raw wood. “No, this is much older than that. I think many centuries.”
Gabriella asked Charlie, “You trust him?”
“I trust Alessandro.”
“And I, signora, trust Edoardo with my life.”
Gabriella stepped aside.
Charlie pointed at the ground-floor corridor. “This way.”
Edoardo offered Gabriella a courtly bow and followed Charlie down the stone stairs.
The locker they had taken from the Evidence chambers was set on the first room’s bed. Charlie lifted one of the guns. “This rifle got a little bent.”
The stock was split in two. The lower segment was missing entirely, the upper hanging by a splinter. “What happened?”
“Bullet. Knocked it clean out of my hands. The missing stock whacked me in the chest. I didn’t notice it at the time. My opponent was armed with a nerve gas canister and a silenced .45. I had a laptop.”
Edoardo frowned. “Please. You shoot this man with a computer?”
“It doesn’t concern us, Edoardo.” Alessandro replaced the rifle and shut the case.
Charlie offered, “I’ll pay for the gun.”
“There is no charge. Officially, this locker has never left the vaults. In four years our gentleman comes up for parole. When he is released, he will discover that these items have been auctioned off and the proceeds given to the state. End of story.”
Edoardo asked, “He is in so long for shooting animals?”
“And two game wardens. And a pair of activists who captured his work on film. Fortunately, the last of their little group managed to survive and bring their evidence back to Italy.”
“Ah.”
“This was not a nice man.”
“Speaking of which . . .” Charlie led them out of the room and down the narrow hall. In the last chamber they found nine men and one woman stretched out on floor pallets. The room stank of gunfire and plaster. A line of chest-high holes was gouged from the walls.
Alessandro nudged the closest body. “They are alive?”
“Yes.” Charlie pointed to five bulky packs leaning against the wall. “Their weapons.”
Edoardo bent down and unzipped the first pack. He whistled softly. Gingerly he sifted through the contents and came up with a silver aerosol can. The nozzle was as long as a gun barrel. “This is what, please?”
“Nerve gas.”
Edoardo dropped the can and zipped the bag.
Alessandro asked, “What did you use in the darts?”
“A mix of two drugs. One dose of GHB. It’s a general anesthetic used by emergency rooms and day clinics for moderate to severe operations. The patients have a vague idea of what’s going on, but they feel nothing and remain totally immobile. Motor function is nil. Very fast acting. Often used in date rapes.”
“How long will they be like this?”
“Eight hours for the big guys. Probably ten for the woman.”
“Can they hear us?”
“Doubtful. They’re a little busy right now.”
Edoardo asked, “This business, it comes from the other drug?”
Charlie nodded. “KeBrescone.”
Alessandro said, “I believe I have heard of this.”
“Animal tranquilizer. In humans it acts as a hallucinogenic. Never caught on as a party drug because it carries a high risk of very bad trips.”
Edoardo laughed out loud.
“KeBrescone causes extreme but temporary psychosis. The effects normally come and go for several days. Memory is affected for much longer. Temporary amnesia often lasts for weeks.”
Alessandro said, “We can’t just leave them here.”
“I have an idea,” Charlie said.
When he finished explaining what he had in mind, Edoardo asked, “Your family, they are Italian?”
“I already asked him,” Alessandro replied. “He claims not. I think perhaps Charlie is mistaken.”
“This plan of yours,” Edoardo said. “Machiavelli would be very pleased.”
“I quite agree.” Alessandro rubbed his hands together. “Very well. Let us begin.”
57
The next day, Alessandro called and said that Charlie and Gabriella needed to take a drive with him. The villa remained a very subdued place, filled with shadows that no amount of cleaning and airing could fully erase. No one was sleeping well. Julio looked like he had aged ten years in the previous forty-eight hours. Even so, there was a quiet unity about their actions, a sense of the entire group having come together. Charlie was fairly certain they would all heal without lasting wounds.
Waiting for Alessandro to arrive, he and Irma visited the cave, only to discover that Benny had left in the night. She surveyed the neatly piled refuse and said, “He just took off without a word to anybody?”
“That’s Benny’s pattern. I’ll go see him next time I’m in the States. Find some way to thank him.”
Irma chewed the inside of her cheek. “I don’t like not being able to make peace with the guy.”
“Maybe you should come with me.” Charlie heard a car roll up the drive. “I’ve got to go.”
Irma settled onto a ledge by the cave’s opening. “I think I’ll stay here awhile.”
When Charlie arrived in front of the villa, Alessandro inspected the welt that had darkened on his neck and said, “You did what you promised. You kept them all safe.”
“It is what he does.” Gabriella slipped her arm into his. “And because of Charlie’s assistance, today we began ascending again. All of us.”
“They are fortunate to have you, Charlie.”
“Indeed we are,” Gabriella said.
“Enough of this.” Alessandro rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Everybody, into the car.”
As they drove away, he confessed, “I am terrible with surprises. You should see me at Christmas. My wife has to lock my presents in a vault. But today I am not receiving. I am giving. Which is even better.”
/> They descended the hill and drove through Como and joined the highway north. They passed through Swiss customs at Chiasso and entered the system of tunnels and bridges leading to Lugano. Alessandro spoke of inconsequential matters, of the weather and a nice restaurant where they might stop for lunch and a phone call he had received that morning from his son the banker.
They continued past the city, taking a land bridge that traversed Lugano’s main lake. Ahead of them, the Alps were crowned with late-season snow. The sky was burnished an impossible color.
When they exited the highway, Alessandro said, “All right, you two. Time to pretend you are excited over my big surprise.”
Charlie said, “Excitement is in short supply. We’re pretty exhausted.”
“Nonsense. You are young. Who needs sleep?”
“I do,” Gabriella said. “Years and years.”
“You can sleep when you are my age.”
Charlie asked, “Where are we?”
“Campione. The hotel and casino are straight ahead. A favorite watering hole for my enemies. Have you heard of this place?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Its history is a distinctly Italian sort of tale. Once it was a principality, the smallest in the world, smaller even than Monaco. Back when borders were often redrawn by marriage, a bride’s parents gave this tiny region away as a wedding present. Nowadays Campione is Italian on paper only. The police are Swiss, and so are most of the laws. Most, but not all. It is a muddle. My enemies love it for two reasons. First, there are no income taxes. And second, they are protected by the Swiss, who are very no-nonsense when it comes to such things as guns and violence. But they are also protected from the Swiss, so long as they do not break Swiss law.”
Gabriella asked, “Why have you brought us here?”
“Ah. The lady is interested now. Perhaps she has guessed what my surprise might be.” Alessandro turned onto a narrow lane that began climbing the steep hillside. The lane turned a very tight corner, then broadened as it passed between high stone walls. One wall followed another, each marked by a car entrance, a number, and then a smaller door for pedestrians.