She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and asked, “What time is it?”
“A little after three in the morning.”
The small town was void of activity at this time of the morning. Except for a few nightlights that illuminated private doors and walkways, the town was mostly dark. Aaron navigated the narrow winding town streets through the roundabout at the center of town where a few young couples carelessly walked in the road, and headed northwest past a soccer field toward his friends’ vineyard.
Aaron pulled the Jaguar into the drive, stopped at the locked gate, and got out of the car. The eight-foot-high wrought iron gate was flanked on both sides by a square brick column with a concrete ball on the top of each structure. Aaron looked back at Sarah as he stepped up to the column on the right and pressed the intercom button. Aaron waited a few minutes for an answer, then pressed the intercom again.
The speaker squawked, then a man’s voice said, “Chi e la.”
“Zio,” Aaron responded. “It is Aaron,” he continued speaking in Italian. “Zio, I am sorry it is so late but I need to stay for a while. And I brought my love with me. I want you to meet her. Can you let me in?”
The voice on the speaker excitedly replied, “Aaron, Aaron. Yes, yes. Come in! Come in!”
A buzzer sounded that unlocked the gate, then Aaron pushed it open and returned to the car. He drove through to the other side and closed the gate and waited for the click that confirmed the gate had re-locked before he got back in the car and drove up the drive to the front of the two-story, red brick country home.
Aaron stopped at the top of the elevated drive and a light came on inside that shined through the glass on the front door, then lights on either side of the door came on. After a moment, the door opened and a thin woman with a long gray ponytail and striped sleep shirt and pants stepped out of the door followed by a man who wore black jersey shorts. He had gray hair, a slim waist, and broad shoulders.
Aaron stepped out of the car and the older woman walked toward him, smiling, with her arms extended in anticipation of an embrace. As Aaron hugged her, the gray-haired man walked over to the car and opened the passenger door for Sarah.
Sarah stepped out of the car and Aaron took the older woman’s hand and walked with her to the passenger side of the car where Sarah stood. “Uncle, auntie,” Aaron turned his gaze toward Sarah, “This is Sarah,” he paused a moment, then added, “and I love her.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” said Zio. “Come in.”
They followed the older couple inside the house. The grand foyer walls were covered with landscape paintings and the polished marble floor reflected the light from the chandelier. A carpeted staircase with polished mahogany rails led to the upper floor. They sat in a large family room with an unlit grand fireplace that was just past the foyer.
“You should have let us know you were coming,” the older woman admonished. “We would have had your apartment ready.”
“I know, auntie, but this was a last-minute decision to come here,” Aaron replied.
“Now mama,” interjected the Zio, “we don’t question Aaron when he visits. He has his reasons.”
The foursome talked for another twenty minutes. With the exception of an hour-long nap while Sarah drove for a stretch through southern France, Aaron had been awake for more than twenty-four hours. His eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.
* * *
Aaron woke after noon. The sun was bright through a split in the dark shades of a familiar room. As a child, this was the room above a renovated barn he stayed in for six weeks every summer when he visited his godparents’ vineyard. As an adult, the apartment over the barn was his sanctuary. The ground level of the solid brick building consisted of a sitting area and a large, fully equipped kitchen. The second floor of the apartment had two bedrooms, each with an attached bathroom. Below the ground level was the old farm equipment storage area that had been converted to a two-car garage with direct access from the backside of the structure.
He climbed off the bed and opened the shades to the full sunlight. His clothes were neatly folded on a wood chair next to an armoire. After he washed his face in the sink and brushed his teeth, Aaron pulled on his jeans and went down the stairs. As he did so, he scanned the area and didn’t see Sarah, so he assumed she must be outside. He went to the refrigerator, pulled out a chilled bottle of water, and stepped outside.
On the patio area, there was a swimming pool surrounded by tall cypress trees on the side facing the main house and rolling hills of an expansive vineyard on the other side. Sarah sat topless in a lounge chair next to the pool.
Aaron sat in a chair next to her and rubbed his still-tired eyes. “Good morning.”
“Actually dear, I believe it’s afternoon now,” replied Sarah. She sat up in her chair. “You’ve been asleep for some time.”
“Guess I was pretty tired.”
“Yeah,” replied Sarah as she put her hand on Aaron’s knee. “You fell asleep on the couch when we were talking to your aunt and uncle. We basically carried you to your bed.”
“They’re not really my aunt and uncle,” Aaron replied.
Sarah moved from her chair and sat next to Aaron. There was a slight breeze coming from the direction of the vineyard and Aaron detected the buttery smell of Sarah’s tanning lotion. He dropped his gaze toward her breasts and noted the drops of perspiration slowly trickling between them.
“Is there a story behind that?” asked Sarah.
“Yeah.” Aaron made eye contact with Sarah. “I’ve known Uncle Piero and Auntie Enrica since the day I was born. Piero was a high school exchange student my grandparents sponsored back in the seventies. So Piero lived with my father and that started a life-long friendship. Piero and my dad went to college together. He was best man at my parents wedding. And they’re my godparents. When Piero inherited the family vineyard, he invited our family over for a visit. I think I was about six when that happened. I loved it. Then every summer after that until I was a junior in college I would come over here and stay for six weeks. They have always been very kind to me.”
Sarah turned her head sideways and asked, “Do they have any children?”
“They did.” Aaron dropped his head and reached down to pick up his water bottle. He took a sip. “They had a son. He was about a year older than me and was a good friend whenever I visited. We played soccer, football as they say. I taught him to play basketball. We swam in the nearby lake Trasimeno.” Aaron stopped speaking and he stared off into the vineyard.
Sarah touched his forearm.
“He died when he was nineteen,” Aaron turned back toward Sarah. “A motorcycle accident in Perugia.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
Aaron took another swallow of water and turned his gaze back over the vineyard. “Yeah. Well, life goes on. But these people mean a lot to me.”
“They’re such nice people.”
“Yeah, they are,” Aaron replied.
“They want to make us a nice dinner tonight.”
“That figures,” Aaron replied. “Get ready for six courses of the best Italian food you’ll ever eat.”
Sarah put her arms around Aaron’s waist and he leaned in and kissed her.
“By the way,” Aaron jested, “I like the mermaid look.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly have enough time to pack my swim suit when we left my place in London,” Sarah teased.
“Since you mention it. We need to go into town and buy some clothes. I also want to get a couple prepaid cell phones.”
* * *
Aaron accessed a wall safe hidden behind a watercolor painting of the renovated barn in the living area of the apartment where he kept a stash of several hundred euros and five fake passports with different identities plus bank cards for each identity. Four of those identities were arranged by the Council and would be detected if he attempted to use them. However, several years earlier, Aaron planned for a worst-case scenario. Concerned if the Council ever disa
vowed an assignment and he might need to go undercover, he established an identify unknown to the Council. With his godparents’ blessing, he took the identity of Paulo, Piero and Enrica’s deceased son, and had a passport made and opened a separate bank account. In that account, Aaron had stashed over 50,000 euros.
It was that account they used to shop for new clothes and incidentals. Aaron also purchased two prepaid cell phones so he and Sarah could keep in touch when needed.
* * *
They spent twelve days relaxing in the Tuscan sun and enjoying the company of Aaron’s godparents. The days consisted of long walks through the picturesque medieval town, sunbathing next to the pool, and spending time with Piero and Enrica. Aaron made sure Sarah understood she could not use her credit cards or make calls to anyone. Any of those things would place their hiding place at risk. For now, they needed to remain invisible.
Sarah expressed her concern to Aaron that her finances were not being addressed. All of her routine bills were paid through automatic deductions from her accounts, but she was concerned the accounts in her substantial fortune would be frozen if she was assumed dead or missing
“That can be undone,” Aaron told her. “If another hit team is sent after us and they find us, that cannot be undone.”
In spite of Sarah’s concern about her finances, the days they spent together there were idyllic. On one romantic evening as they lay in bed with the comfortable summer breeze blowing through the open windows, Sarah mentioned to Aaron how much she loved the place. “Why can’t we just stay here?” she asked. “The rest of the world will be fine without us.”
Aaron kept going over all the events that led up to their isolation. Was it the Council that came after me? Was I getting too close to someone or something? Did the Council send a hit team? Or was it ISIS?
Every night, Aaron and Sarah paged through the financier’s notebook and looked for a clue. They made a critical decision one particular evening as they sat together on the Persian rug that covered the living area floor.
“There are payments made to someone in almost every major city in Europe,” explained Sarah as she interpreted the ledger. “But I keep coming back to these entries that appear to be money transfers, deposits, and debits from an entity in America to banks in the Cayman Islands. I really believe someone in America is deeply involved with these people.”
“So do I,” Aaron answered. He stood and walked to the kitchen and opened a bottle of mineral water. He took a swallow, then looked at Sarah who still sat on the carpet and whose gaze followed him to the kitchen. “We need to go back to Washington and I need to confront Stafford with this information.”
Sarah stood and joined him in the kitchen. She leaned back against the black granite island counter and asked, “Is it safe to travel?”
“Better if we travel incognito. You’ll need a forged passport.”
Sarah half-smiled, then asked, “Isn’t that against the law in every country on the planet?”
“If we travel on our real passports we’ll be arrested at the airport.” He shook his head, then added, “And that’s all I’ve got. I guess I’m running out of ideas.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
PERUGIA, ITALY
WEDNESDAY, JULY 13TH
11:10 A.M.
Alight rain fell as they drove Piero’s borrowed, late model Peugeot 308 wagon to Perugia. The route along SR220 was hilly and sparsely used except for an occasional farm vehicle. As they neared Perugia, which was also known as the universities town due to the several universities within the city and the large number of university students in residence, the rain fell a little harder and the traffic intensified.
Traffic near Perugia University was heavy and was a mix of buses, bicycles, cars, and pedestrians with umbrellas that seemed to restrict their view of their surroundings. Aaron found a parking spot in a small lot near the university library. They parked there. He opened an umbrella they shared as they walked a short way through bewildering canyons of side streets and alleyways surrounded by khaki-and-gray-colored stucco walls of four story buildings and narrow sidewalks. On the Via del Pepe, they found the camera store Aaron had used years earlier to obtain another forged passport and entered.
A short, overweight, bald man with thick glasses and a gray cardigan sweater came out from behind a curtain to greet them.
“Bienvenuto,” he said cheerfully. “How can I help you?”
“Prego,” Aaron answered. “You take passport photos here?”
“Si.”
“I need a full service passport photo for my friend.”
The short man’s eyes widened and he licked his lips, then ran his hand over his mouth. He looked left and right, then said. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Aaron said, “Quit the crap.” He pulled 200 euros out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. “You are a passport forger and I need a passport. Here is 200. You take the picture now and we’ll come back in a few hours and you’ll give us a usable passport and I’ll give you an additional 300.”
The man stroked his chin and licked his lips again. He turned his head sideways and looked out the front window of the store. “I will need four hours. But you don’t come back here. I meet you at the Grimana Piazza. You know where that is”
“We’ll find it.”
The short man took Sarah back to his photo lab. Her hair was damp and wilted so she used a hair dryer he had used on rare occasions since the advent of digital photography to develop film and she dried her hair, then pulled it back in a ponytail. He took her picture in front of a blank white backdrop.
They left the photo shop under an umbrella into a pouring rain and walked back to the university library. Aaron found a copy of the London Times and read that while Sarah gravitated to the extensive art history section.
When Sarah returned to the lounge area where Aaron was seated she asked, “Just out of curiosity, when they scan the passport at the airport, won’t they know it’s a forgery?”
“No. This guy is a pro. He has a database of identities of real people who already have a passport, but for whatever reason they won’t ever travel again. He’ll match the passport number and even match any travel visas they have already used. It’ll be fine.”
The rain stopped an hour before they were scheduled to meet the forger in the piazza. Aaron looked up the location on his iPhone Google Maps and determined it would be about a thirty-minute walk from the library. As they entered the piazza, the man was seated on a bench in front of a row of cypress trees near the entrance. Sarah stayed on the walkway and Aaron walked on to meet with the forger.
He handed the passport to Aaron who perused the document.
“There will be no problems with this identity,” the forger stated. “The young lady had an accident. She is in a coma. All of the visas have been matched up. This should be good for two more years.”
Aaron nodded and handed the man the promised three hundred euros and then turned and walked away.
* * *
Aaron awoke early and spent the morning with Piero in the vineyard removing weeds. Piero was old school. He never used herbicides so it was a manual process to eliminate the weeds so they did not compete with the vines for the same nutrients.
It was a hot, cloudless day and they worked up a big appetite and strong thirst. Enrica served them an early lunch of grilled eggplant parmesan and mineral water. Sarah declined lunch and instead went for a run into town and back. With a morning of labor and a fulfilling lunch under his belt, Aaron collapsed on the couch in the apartment and slept for a little more than an hour. When he woke, he went outside and found Sarah’s running clothes neatly hung over the back of a lawn chair to dry. He turned toward the splashing sounds and found her backstroking in the pool.
Aaron sat on a chair next to the pool and took a moment to admire her stark beauty. Sarah must have sensed his presence because she stopped and swam over to the side of the pool. She clung to the side of the pool with her arms and looked u
p at him. Then she shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. She smiled and reached up to touch his leg.
“I booked a flight out of Rome for the day after tomorrow,” Aaron said. “But seeing you like this, I’m not sure I’m ready to leave.”
Sarah chuckled. She scrunched up her face and said, “It’s still early. We have all day!”
“Don’t lose that thought,” Aaron replied. “I thought I would head into town and pick up some fish and veggies and we can make dinner for momma and papa tonight. But it doesn’t have to be an early dinner.”
“Whatever are you suggesting?” asked Sarah as she blinked her eyes like an owl.
Aaron moved onto the edge of the pool, sat on his knees, and leaned over and kissed her. As he stood and walked toward the front gate of the compound he said over his shoulder, “I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
It was a five kilometer walk along the well-shaded road to the main square in Città della Pieve where the market was located. Along the way was the Campo sportivo di Ponticelli, and as Aaron discovered, it was match day so the area around the stadium was a sea of red and white, as local football lovers joined together to cheer on their beloved team. He recalled the good times he spent as a youth watching the matches and decided to join the local crowd.
A few hours later, with the game well in hand for the home team, Aaron left to finish his errands. He walked to the market in town and purchased the fish and veggies he had forewarned Sarah of. With a shopping bag in each hand, he returned to the vineyard. As he turned the corner past a row of four new construction homes along the road toward Piero’s compound, Aaron noticed the gate to the compound was open.
He stopped and dropped the shopping bags. “Oh, shit,” Aaron gasped. They never leave the gate open. This is wrong.
Aaron sprinted the five hundred meters to the compound and when he turned the corner he saw three Italian police cars parked in front of the same doorway of the country home where Aaron and Sarah had enthusiastically been welcomed a few weeks ago. He ran into the foyer where he was stopped by a pair of Italian police officers and restrained from going any further into the house.
The Monroe Decision Page 18