by Dale Nelson
Rusty cautioned him that it was becoming a habit for him to keep cycling through identities and there was always the possibility that because he’d made that last one on such short notice that it might have tripped a flag. Then he locked up the house and dropped his bag on the passenger seat of his black Audi RS5. The flight was early in the morning, but there was no point in staying in Sonoma tonight.
Jack backed onto the road and was quickly ripping through the twisting switchbacks until he’d descended from the mountain he lived on and found an open road. He spent a fitful night at the Hyatt Regency at San Francisco International before boarding his flight the next morning. From there, it was a flight to London, landing early in the morning the next day. Jack went to the United lounge to shower and change before his flight to Spain.
Let’s get this over with, he said to himself as he boarded the flight. He spent the entire trip thinking about Megan and Hugh and the consequences of decisions he’d rather not have made.
Megan was right about one thing.
After all the mistakes over the last few years, Jack wanted to prove he still had it, that he was still the best. He had to know.
But there was another reason to go back.
A hundred million dollars in stolen diamonds that no one was looking for, stashed in a safety deposit box in a Roman bank.
Whatever else was happening between him and Aleksander, Bartolo’s stash was worth the risk. That was “walk away forever” money. As long as Vito could be trusted.
When he arrived in Alicante, Jack stepped out of the terminal and into the hot afternoon air.
He was greeted by guns.
Part Two
Ten
Three men surrounded him the moment Jack stepped out into the arrivals area in Alicante.
He figured out quickly that they were not law enforcement, so maybe that was a plus. But they’d been waiting for him, that much was clear. They formed a perimeter around him, and the leader told him in broken English that he’d be going with them. Jack tried the cursory dodge, explaining that he was a Canadian tourist and that they had the wrong guy, but it fell flat as he knew it would. One of the men lifted his baggy shirt, revealing the pistol tucked into his waistband. “Okay,” he said. Another, who was standing behind Jack, wrenched his backpack and shoulder bag from him.
They escorted Jack out of airport and to the parking lot. The afternoon sun was in full effect now, and it was blasting down upon them like the radiant waves of an angry god. When they reached a white sedan, Jack saw the man who’d shown him the gun look furtively around the parking lot. Then he punched Jack hard in the stomach. He doubled over as the air exploded out of his lungs.
Then it went dark.
One of the men pulled a bag or something over his head as Jack was still gulping air. While he was still doubled over, someone grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back. He heard the dull zip of plastic shooting through grooves and then felt the zip tie digging into his skin. They pushed him into the back of the car and down to the floor. Someone got in the back seat, resting his feet next to Jack’s head, sending a message. Don’t move.
They drove.
Thirty minutes? An hour? It was impossible to tell time without sight.
Jack thought about consequences. It would appear that he’d underestimated Aleksander.
At least he’d seen Megan one last time. Even if she’d more or less told him to go to hell. Her face was fresh in his mind.
The car changed direction several times and then stopped. Doors opened. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him out of the car. “Walk.” They pushed him forward, guiding him by his pinned hands, which were now completely numb. Jack walked, taking slow steps. One of his abductors got impatient with this and pushed him. “Move,” he said. Jack wasn’t sure how far he’d walked, but it wasn’t long before they jerked him to a stop, sending fresh waves of pain through his arms.
Someone kicked the back of his knees and drove him to the ground. A rough, thick hand grabbed his neck and drove him backward. Jack’s head hit water and then went under. He kicked and bucked, but that only seemed to piss the person off because they just shook his neck and held him under. Jack was pulled back up to his knees, gasping for air, up just long enough to get a breath before being driven back into the water. This time, he didn’t buck. Jack forced himself to remain calm, conserve his oxygen.
Don’t give them the satisfaction.
No one spoke.
He could see sunlight through the tiny holes in the bag over his head. Then darkness as they pushed him underwater. Light—dark—burning lungs. Repeat.
Jack knew he just needed to wait them out. If they were going to kill him, they’d have done it already. And, he realized, he tasted chlorine.
But when they put him under the next time, Jack had the cold realization that his assumption may have been wrong. This wasn’t a quick dunk and shock. He was under for a minute, maybe longer. He lost track of time. His lungs burned. They screamed for air. Already dark from the bag, the edges of his vision further blurred and darkened. He was losing oxygen to the brain. Jack couldn’t take this for long. Instinct took over, and he thrashed, kicked with his legs, pushed, and bucked. Whatever he could do to get free. But those practiced hands and their grip of iron held him fast.
He was yanked out of the water.
Jack took in a lungful of air. He breathed in the world.
They threw him down on his stomach, and his head bounced off a hard surface. Someone roughly rolled him onto his back and yanked off the hood. Blinding white light blotted out everything. Then a dark form moved over him, blotting out the sun. Still, he squinted to see, flash-blinded from the sun.
“What you did was stupid.” Aleksander’s voice.
Jack saw Aleksander nod; he could at least make out that much. He was rolled onto his side, heard the metal click of a blade opening. He winced reflexively as he wanted for it to be pushed into his abdomen, but instead they cut the zip ties, freeing his hands and sending blood back into them. That brought an entirely new but wholly welcome set of pain.
Jack collapsed onto his back.
Aleksander, still kneeling over him, leaned in closer. “I want to make sure we understand each other,” he said.
Jack nodded. His sight returned, and he saw that he was on Aleksander’s pool deck.
“Remember that last time underwater. If you do something like this again, you won’t come back up.”
Jack’s vision flooded with sunlight as Aleksander stood up. When he spoke, Aleksander’s voice sounded miles away. “Are we clear?”
Jack nodded and coughed. Then he croaked out an affirmative.
“Good,” Aleksander said. “Now get cleaned up. Dinner will be served at eight. Your things have been brought up to your room.”
Jack stayed in his room until 7:59. He’d showered and changed but stayed in the room until the appointed time. His mind was still struggling to wrap itself around the dissonance of Aleksander’s men nearly drowning him and then, in the next breath, Aleksander telling him to be changed for dinner.
Where in the hell was he, truly?
What had he gotten himself into?
His neck hurt from the rough treatment, being used as a handle to move his body. Jack tried to put it out of his mind.
He went downstairs exactly at eight. He didn’t hear anyone in the house. The only sound was coming from the kitchen, where Jack found Aleksander’s chef in the kitchen preparing their meal. He looked like a dervish as he spun between the different stations he’d set up. Jack walked out to the patio and found a bottle of white in a chiller with several glasses.
The situation was still too surreal to process, so he thought he’d drink a little.
Jack poured himself a glass and walked past the pool to the edge of the grass, but he didn’t go beyond that, as though there were a kind of psychic fence.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, with the soft glow of the pool lights behind hi
m, looking out over the darkening sea. Maybe it was five minutes, maybe thirty. He’d lost all track of time, but the sky had definitely darkened above him.
“I see you found the wine,” Aleksander said from the patio. Jack turned and found Aleksander pouring glasses for himself and several others. He spoke in an amiable tone that belied none of what happened before. Jack saw Castillo, Viktor, and two women. Jack walked back in the direction of his host. Viktor, who was standing slightly in the back of the group, made eye contact with Jack and softly shook his head in clear disappointment, but whether it was because Jack had left or because he returned, Jack couldn’t tell.
The first of the two women was young. Jack would put her in her late twenties and she was quite striking. She had short brown hair that was cut to curl around each of her ears, stopping just above the neck. She was deeply tan, which was a clear combination of biology and effort, as the shimmering gold dress she wore was fairly revealing. Her body, like her tan, Jack reasoned, was the same combination of natural gift and effort. Her eyes were dark, but it was impossible to tell the color given the smoke effect she’d used with her makeup. His eyes went to the next woman, who appeared to be about ten years senior to her companion, and his heart stopped. Everything spun.
He knew her immediately.
Guilia.
Guilia Montalto.
“Jack, allow me to introduce you to Basia,” Aleksander said, taking the younger of the two’s hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the top of her hand gently before releasing it. “And I believe you already know Ms. Montalto.”
That was a way of putting it.
This was no mere coincidence. There wasn’t that much chance or randomness built into the fabric of the universe.
This was a message.
Jack shuffled his feet, widening his stance, because he felt that the world had just pitched on its axis.
There were too many questions to process at once.
Guilia held up her glass to her lips, giving Jack a toying look and sly smile over the top of it before she drank. Then, she closed the distance between them and looped him in a one-armed embrace. He let her do it, his mind too blank for anything else. “It’s good to see you again, Jack. You look well.”
She’d barely aged in twenty years, it seemed. There were lines around her eyes, but she hid those well. After all, Guilia was a woman who always knew where the exits were. She was tall, and the dress she wore revealed mostly leg. Guilia’s face was slightly round, with dark, almond-shaped eyes. Her thick, black hair fell to her shoulders and waved like sea grass when she moved. She’d always reminded him of Sophia Loren.
He’d loved her once—first and deeply.
How was she here now—and with Andelić?
Before Jack could say anything, as though words hadn’t utterly failed him, Guilia said, slightly above a whisper, “I’m sorry for what I did. I was young and foolish. It was wrong.” Then she added, “I’m glad that you weren’t hurt.”
The words tumbled out of her mouth like the punchline of a poorly delivered joke.
Jack stepped out of the awkward embrace, his faculties returning. And with them, anger. It was a seething, raw thing that quickly boiled out of his ability to control it.
Jack wanted to ask her if it was worth it, looking back on those years and knowing she would end up in this place, was that betrayal worth it? Instead, he just said in a cold voice, “I’m sorry I missed.”
Guilia gasped. She gave him a shocked and wounded look.
Dinner was a strange and bizarre experience, a Dali painting brought to life and fed wine. Either everyone else was oblivious to the tension playing out on multiple axes, or they simply ignored it. Aleksander led the conversation but acted somewhat deferentially toward Basia. Jack initially dismissed her as a set piece, but she proved to be an engaging and informed conversationalist. Viktor was largely quiet. Guilia was nervous, tense, and edgy. Jack hoped it was because his comment caught her off guard. He’d learn what she was doing here in time, but until then his guard would be up.
Javier cleared the plates and told everyone that there would be fifteen minutes before the desert was served. Guilia excused herself from the table to use the restroom, and Basia joined her inside. Jack took his wine glass, mostly so that no one could refill it without him looking, and moved to stretch his legs. Castillo joined him by the pool.
“How was California?” he asked.
“Dry,” Jack said.
“That wasn’t wise, Jack. Going there.”
“You people need to understand something, Rafael. I will not be blackmailed.”
“No one is—”
“Spare me the double-talk. Aleksander told me that if I didn’t do Venice, he’d make sure the French authorities knew I was involved in Paris. You’re the lawyer, what do you call that?”
“His words were ill advised,” Castillo said. “I warned him about that.”
“Did you warn him about the waterboarding, or is that how you treat all your guests?”
“All I can say is that Aleksander was angry. He felt as though your leaving was an unnecessary risk to the operation.”
“Oh, and what would you have done if I’d have said no?”
Castillo was silent for a time.
“He’s truly worried about losing all of this. You don’t understand how these people can be.”
“I think I understand them better than you do.”
Castillo took a drink, knowing he didn’t have a better response. “Aleksander is afraid that if he doesn’t do something bold, the others are going to think he’s weak and force him to give up his political connections, the intelligence network, the bribed officials, in order to spare his life. Everything. But once they have no more use for him, they’ll shoot him like a dog so that he can’t talk. This is about survival for him. I agree that he’s overstepped his bounds, but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice.”
“Let’s say that I understand his position,” Jack said. “What about what I want? What about my desire to limit my exposure? What if I said I just want to walk away after Paris?”
“You and I both know there isn’t an answer to this that satisfies both of us. Paris went badly, and you were in a position to need our help. In exchange for that, we’re asking you to do a thing. After that, the scales are balanced. If, at that point, you decide you want nothing more to do with us, you may return home. You’ll be well-compensated for your trouble, as I believe he told you. We hope you choose otherwise. Aleksander genuinely desires that you take him up on his offer. Even if for a little while.”
“Why is that?” Jack asked dryly.
“He thinks you both are kindred spirts,” Castillo said. The lawyer turned and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You’re taking a risk on behalf of this organization. That won’t be overlooked. I can assure you that so long as you don’t kill anyone during this job, you cannot be convicted in Italy. It’s as safe as these things get.”
“Rafael, what is going on here?”
“I don’t follow.”
“This. All of this.” Jack spread his arms. “He takes me from the airport at gunpoint, puts a bag over my head, and then gives me the water treatment. Then he tells me to be changed in time for dinner, and now she’s here. What the fuck is going on? What message is he trying to send me? Because I promise you, it’s not landing.”
“Aleksander and Ms. Montalto have known each other for some time.”
“I’ve been a thief for nearly thirty years, and in that time, I’ve come to learn that there’s no such thing as a coincidence. I need to know what she’s doing here, or I walk. You’ve done your homework on me, my opinion of her should be obvious.”
“This isn’t really my story to tell, Jack. But suffice it to say that Guilia owes Aleksander a favor. She needed a place to stay for a time, so Aleksander is giving her a roof, a safe space. Now, I’m going to get back to the party.”
Castillo returned to the patio, leaving Jack alone.
>
He tried to find the connection between Guilia and Aleksander, but there was no logical link.
Jack tried to push those thoughts out, or at least shove them to the fringes. It was amazing how the mind jumped to conspiracy when fatigued. He returned to the table, though what he wanted was to excuse himself to sleep. Jack stayed to see if someone’s tongue loosened enough from the wine and the tension to share a detail that might help him navigate the currents below the surface.
They had dessert. More wine was poured. Castillo excused himself after, saying that he needed to get home. He gave Jack a long look before he departed. Guilia, for her part, seemed to come out of her shell during the dessert course and was more talkative, though the conversation had steered away from the headier topics of dinner. No one seemed drunk enough to slip.
Jack excused himself from the table and returned to his room, where he immediately found sleep elusive. His thoughts raced down a thousand blind alleys to connect the various threads, but his mind was too dull from travel and the shock of seeing Guilia to see anything but enemies everywhere. The frustration only added to his inability to sleep. He needed answers. Or at least an answer to a question, anything that would help him start putting pieces together.
So, he decided to look for some.
Jack waited until the house was long quiet, well into the night.
His room was at the top of the stairs, so everyone coming up to bed passed him first. When they had gone to bed, Jack heard two different doors opening and closing, though he couldn’t discern the individual occupants of each. He didn’t know which of the two women were staying with Aleksander, but the guessing fueled his thoughts for a long time.
When he was satisfied that it was late enough, Jack dressed, put socks on, and grabbed his lockpicks and phone, being careful to make sure it was on do not disturb. He gently opened his door and listened to the silence. Satisfied that no one was moving about, Jack padded into the hallway and down the stairs. Once he reached the main floor, he paused again. This time he was listening for movement down here. Jack hadn’t seen the thugs that picked him up at the airport since his return, but he had to assume that they were still here.