Moving Target

by Christina Diaz Gonzalez

  “Cassie!” Simone screamed. I shoved the backpack into her hands and ran past her toward Asher. Bending down, I scooped up the broom handle and, just as the half-eared man pinned Asher to the ground, I swung and hit the man squarely on the side of the head.

  The half-eared man collapsed on top of Asher. Blood trickled out of a gash on the side of his head, but it looked like he was still breathing.

  “What are you doing?” Asher exclaimed, pushing the half-eared man off him. “You were supposed to run!”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, tossing the stick off to the side and hiding the fact that my hands were shaking.

  “Yeah, well, thanks.” Asher glanced down at the unconscious man. “But we have to get out of here.”

  “I know.”

  We both ran toward the end of the alley where Simone was standing, holding the backpack in her hands.

  “Is he dead?” Simone had a horrified look on her face.

  “No, and he’ll probably wake up any minute,” Asher answered, taking the backpack from her and swinging it over his shoulder. “Now let’s go.”

  I took two steps and noticed Simone wasn’t coming. She was frozen in place staring at the half-eared man, who had started to stir.

  “Simone!” I pulled her by the arm, but that wasn’t what snapped her out of her trancelike state. It was the rumbling sound that reverberated through the stillness of the town.

  We both looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear. There was no mistaking the noise. It was a motorcycle.

  Had the motorcycle-riding assassin found us, too? Were they working together?

  Asher turned to face us. “Not good,” he said.

  He was right. Our time was up.

  We had to get back to the car, and we had to do it fast.

  “Over there!” Asher pointed to Giovanni’s restaurant, where two bicycles and a Vespa were leaning against a wall. “One of you can ride on the handle bars while I pedal.”

  I gave him a small nod and we all ran across the piazza toward them.

  Just as we were about to reach the bikes someone yelled, “Americani!” It was Giovanni. He was calling to us from the steps of the nearby church. “A man,” he said. “He is looking for you!”

  I raised a finger to my lips, hoping he would be quiet. We were trying to avoid any attention.

  “He say he has something for you!” Giovanni kept shouting. He didn’t understand that, whoever it was, what they had for me was a bullet with my name on it. “He might help you find the man that no one sees.”

  “Change of plans!” Asher pushed the bikes off the Vespa. “The key’s in the ignition!” He hopped on the scooter and turned the key.

  Simone quickly pushed aside a large bag of coffee beans and climbed into the Vespa’s sidecar.

  “Che! What you doing?” Giovanni’s demeanor quickly changed. “No, no! That is mine!”

  Giovanni was now running toward us from across the square. I jumped on the seat behind Asher, wrapping my arms around his chest, the backpack in my face.

  “We’re only borrowing it!” I said as Asher hit the gas.

  Giovanni chased after us, but we quickly left him behind, huffing and puffing.

  The uneven cobblestones and Simone’s weight made the Vespa wobble wildly from side to side. We had made a quick right turn through a small courtyard and were now exiting onto a different side street. I kept my eyes peeled for the half-eared guy or someone on a motorcycle, but saw no one. For all we knew, the motorcycle we’d heard might have nothing to do with us, but we couldn’t take the chance. Plus, the half-eared guy was there, and he was bound to wake up soon.

  Once at the footbridge, we zoomed across to the gravel parking lot, then pulled up next to our car. The three of us jumped out, the ground crackling and crunching beneath our feet.

  “NO!” Asher exclaimed, staring at the car’s slashed tires.

  I ran to the other side. All four tires were cut.

  “Get back on the Vespa!” Simone yelled. “There’s a motorcycle on the bridge!”

  I jerked my head and confirmed what Simone was seeing. From where we stood, I couldn’t see if his helmet had the red flames, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t a coincidence and we had no time to spare.

  We jumped back on the Vespa and sped up the road to the main part of town. We managed to lose him by making a few sharp turns, but he was only a short distance behind us. We weren’t going to outrun him on the scooter. We had to figure out another way to escape.

  “Look over there!” I pointed to a blue regional Cotral bus that was dropping off some passengers.

  Asher slammed on the brakes. “Go! Make sure it doesn’t leave. I’ll hide this thing so he doesn’t know where we went.”

  Simone and I jumped out. The sign on the top of the bus said Orvieto. I didn’t know where that was, but I didn’t care. The farther away we got from the Hastati, the better. Two women, who by the looks of their cropped pants, polar fleece jackets, and big cameras had to be tourists, were already boarding the bus. They each had their bus tickets out, but the driver didn’t bother to look up from his newspaper as they took two window seats near the front.

  Simone pushed me from behind. “Just get on,” she whispered. We both knew that tickets weren’t sold on buses, but we had gotten a lucky break … the driver didn’t seem to care whether we had them or if they were validated. We got on the bus, walked past the two women and a handful of other passengers, and headed toward the very back.

  I looked out the window for Asher. There was a young woman pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk and a police officer standing at the opposite corner next to a shoe store. Cars were passing by, but the morning activity had died down considerably. Up front, the bus driver stretched, folded his newspaper, and checked his watch. “Isn’t Asher coming?” I asked Simone.

  The bus began to rumble, and I could feel the gears shifting.

  Asher had to hurry. I pressed my face against the glass to see farther down the street. There was some movement in the distance. Someone was running toward us, but we had already started to roll forward, the driver braking only to merge into traffic.

  “Un momento!” I shouted, pushing past Simone’s legs and rushing up the aisle. “Please!” I pointed out the front window where Asher was waving trying to get the driver’s attention.

  The driver glanced back at me through the rearview mirror, then looked ahead to where I was pointing. He sighed and opened the door just as Asher got there.

  “Grazie,” Asher mumbled, a bit out of breath, as he climbed aboard.

  “Biglietto?” The driver expected Asher to show his validated ticket.

  Asher shook the driver’s hand instead and once again said, “Grazie.”

  The driver briefly looked at his hand, where Asher had slipped him a fifty-euro bill, then motioned for Asher to move along. Asher gave me a look and shrugged. It was something Simone would’ve done.

  “What took you so long?” I asked as Asher got close and the bus began its merge onto the main road.

  Asher carefully took off his backpack and placed it on an empty seat next to him. “I couldn’t leave the Vespa nearby. It’d draw too much attention.”

  The bus lurched forward, but I stayed standing, keeping my balance by holding onto one of the seatbacks.

  “Get down!” Asher grabbed my arm and pulled me next to him. “You too, Simone.” His eyes were fixed on something outside. “Get down!”

  Miraculously, Simone did as he said without even asking a question.

  I stayed crouched down, sharing the seat with Asher, but peered out through the bottom of the window. A slow-moving motorcycle was coming toward us, the driver holding up traffic as he scoured the area. It was the man with the curly hair who had shot my dad and showed up at the hospital afterward. He was wearing jeans instead of all black and wasn’t wearing the helmet, but I was certain it was him.

  “That’s the guy that shot my dad,” I whispered, ducking my head ag
ain.

  “He’s Hastati,” Asher said, his breath hitting the side of my ear. “I saw him once at the monastery. Zio met him at the door. Wouldn’t even let him in.”

  The bus and the motorcycle passed each other, and we continued in the opposite direction from where the motorcyclist was heading. It seemed like we had gotten away.

  After a minute or two, we all heaved a collective sigh and eased back up in our seats.

  “See, that’s why I wanted to hide the Vespa. Now he won’t have any idea where we went.”

  I crawled away from him and went back across the aisle to my seat next to Simone. “Yeah, but you almost missed the bus.”

  “I would’ve caught up to you.” I could see him finally relaxing. “Cassie, I’m in this all the way with you. You have to know that by now.”

  And I did know it. But I also knew that I couldn’t completely let my guard down with someone I’d just met.

  “Now that we’re all together, let’s open the box,” I said.

  “Here?” Asher lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “Are you crazy?”

  I looked at the few people sitting toward the front of the bus. “No one is watching. It’s private enough.”

  “Wait.” Simone grabbed my arm. “Did that crazy old lady actually have the spear?”

  Asher unzipped his backpack and pulled out the box. “You’d know if you hadn’t taken off and gotten yourself caught.”

  “Hey! I didn’t ask to be grabbed, you know. And I could’ve handled it myself.”

  “Whatever.” Asher stared at the clasp on the box. “I think you have to unscrew this to get it to open.”

  I realized that we hadn’t had a chance to talk to Simone about what had happened to her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Simone shook her head and I gave her a hug.

  “Did he say anything to you?” I asked. “I saw you talking before Asher jumped him.”

  She pulled away. “Not really. He wanted to know where you were. If we’d found out anything.” Simone glanced out the window at a car passing by. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Well, I’m just glad we got you away from him,” I said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I can’t do this without my sidekick.”

  Simone gave me a weak smile and pointed to the box. “So, is the spear inside?”

  “We don’t know,” I replied as Asher fumbled with the clasp.

  “Got it,” he said victoriously. He looked up at me. “Ready?”

  “Wait. Signora Pescatori said to be sure we opened it when we couldn’t see. Maybe we should close our eyes while you lift the lid.”

  “Of course there would be something weird to opening the box,” Simone muttered.

  Asher shot Simone a look. “Good idea, Cassie. We’ll all close our eyes, and on the count of three I’ll lift the top.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Are your eyes closed?” he asked.

  “Yes,” we both answered.

  I heard Asher flip open the clasp. I held my breath. This was it.

  “Three … two … I’m lifting the top … now.”

  I opened my eyes, half-expecting there to be rays of light streaming out from inside the box. At the very least I expected to see an old metal spearhead about the size of my hand, like the one Brother Gregorio had shown me in the book.

  Simone gasped.

  “It can’t be!” Asher flipped the box over, not wanting to believe what we could all see.

  Or better said … what we couldn’t see.

  The box was empty!

  “Why am I not surprised?” Simone said.

  “No, it can’t be.” I grabbed the empty box from Asher and shook it. All this work for nothing? Tears stung my eyes. I wasn’t sad; I was angry. There was no way it could all end like this. We were too close. There had to be more.

  Simone put a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe she made a mistake. Gave you the wrong box. We can go back there another day.”

  “No, she knew what she was doing. It’s the right box,” Asher mumbled.

  Simone rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, she’s an old, crazy, blind woman.” Simone’s voice was strained. “Emphasis on BLIND!”

  “Simone, you didn’t see her.” I ran my fingers over each groove of the box. “Signora Pescatori felt the carvings along the edge of the box before giving it to us … she knew what she was doing. She even gave us instructions about opening it when we couldn’t see.” I flipped the box and shook it once more. “It must mean something.”

  “Fine, maybe it does.” Simone relented. “But then we should call someone and see if they know about the box. I can ask—”

  “Of course!” Asher interrupted. “We can ask Zio. He’ll probably know what it is.” Asher took out one of the burner phones.

  “Hold on.” I reached over to stop Asher. “Won’t someone be listening or tracing the call?”

  “No, it should be fine. At least for about a minute. We have a state-of-the-art scrambler and a rerouting network that should buy us some time,” Asher explained. “It has to do with a cell phone always communicating with the closest cell tower that—”

  “Whatever.” Simone cut him off. “How about I use one of those untraceable phones to search the Internet. Odds are I’ll find something before you do.” She held out her hand.

  Asher hesitated, but then handed her a new phone.

  “You sure they can’t trace the call if it’s less than a minute?” I didn’t want to take a chance at being caught on the bus.

  “I’m sure. It should take the very best hacker at least a minute.”

  “Okay, so call and talk fast,” I said. “We’ll time you.”

  “It’ll still mean we use up another phone. Then we’ll only have the one Simone has and the one left in the bag.”

  “We need answers, so it’s not like we have a choice,” I said. “Simone, put on the stopwatch on your phone.”

  As soon as we were ready, Asher placed the call.

  He gave Simone a small nod the moment the call went through. “Zio, I have to talk fast. We found something. A box.” I leaned across the aisle to listen as he described the box and what had happened to us.

  “Nothing?” he asked after a moment of listening to his uncle. “What about what the blind woman said about opening it when we can’t see? Do you know what that might mean?” Asher listened to his uncle for a few seconds. “Well, I know it’s a riddle of some kind.” Another beat. “Yes, of course, you need to see the box, but we’re not nearby and—”

  I could see Asher’s entire body tensing up after being interrupted. “Yes, I’m keeping an eye on her, but I don’t think she’ll go back.”

  “Fifteen seconds left,” I whispered. “Ask him about my father.”

  Through the phone I could hear Brother Gregorio speaking harshly. It wasn’t the attitude he had shown while we were at the monastery.

  “Ask about my dad,” I insisted.

  “Have you heard anything about Cassie’s father?” he asked, then shook his head no.

  I could hear Brother Gregorio still talking, but Asher now turned his back to me.

  Something was going on.

  “Time,” I whispered as the stopwatch app hit forty-five seconds.

  Asher nodded, but kept talking. He had dropped his voice, but I could still pick out a few words here and there. A very defiant “there has to be another way” and “what if I can’t?” followed up with a resigned “I understand.”

  He had to hang up. The call was going on fifty-five seconds and was going to get traced. “Time!” I said again and shook Asher by the shoulder.

  “Done,” he said, turning off the phone and quickly removing the battery.

  “He didn’t know anything about the box or my dad, did he?” I asked.

  Asher sighed. “No. He’ll look through his books, but he’s never heard of a box like what Signora Pescatori gave us.”

  “What if we call someone else? An expert,” Si
mone suggested, not looking up from her phone.

  “No one is a bigger expert on the spear than my uncle,” Asher said matter-of-factly.

  “But what about an expert on boxes?” Simone bit the edge of her fingernail. “I mean, I can’t find anything on the Internet, but”—she paused for a moment—“you know, my mom has access to a lot of people. She could help.”

  “Your mom?” Simone was not one to turn to her mother for help … on anything. Maybe the half-eared guy had scared her a lot more than she let on.

  “Absolutely not!” Asher shook his head. “We don’t tell anyone until Zio sees it. Once we get to Orvieto we have to head directly back to the monastery. No other choice.”

  I stared at the box. The clue was there, waiting for me to find it. “I’m not doing either of those things,” I said.

  “Then what’s the plan?” Simone asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I just know that we have to try to figure this out ourselves. We have some time before we get to Orvieto, and if we don’t know something by then, we can go do research at the town’s library.”

  “All right. But if we don’t have any answers by tonight, we go back to the monastery,” Asher said.

  “Or call my mother,” Simone added.

  I wasn’t going to argue. We would figure this out, because there wasn’t any other choice. My dad’s safety depended on it.

  Maybe that’s where I would find a clue. With my dad.

  “My dad’s notebook!” I panicked, realizing that I’d given it to Asher back in Civita. “Asher, please say you still have it.”

  “Of course.” He pulled it out of his hoodie’s pocket and handed it to me.

  I let out a long sigh. So far we hadn’t found any other clues in the journal, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  “You think he might have written something about the box?” Simone asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe,” I said and flipped open the notebook. There was another side to my father, one that I didn’t know. One that kept secrets. I needed to find out more about who he really was. Turning to the very first page, I read his entries again, not for information about the spear or me, but for clues about him.