The shrill ring of the phone snapped her attention away. The only people who rang the home number were cold callers and Kate’s mother. A second attempt was sure to be her mother. Perhaps something was wrong. Kate scuttled to the nearest phone.
“Hello?”
“Kate, it’s your mother.” She always started like that although there was an edge of stress to her voice this morning.
“What’s wrong, Mumsie?”
“I can’t connect to the internet this morning.”
Great! Kate the PC support person. “Check the lights on the router—you know, the black box that connects to the phone line?”
There was a scuffling sound and then: “The lights are all green.”
“Yes, but look at the symbol that’s like the world. Is that light on?”
“No. Oh God, what do I do?”
“It’s all right. Nothing’s wrong. Remember, you’ve had this problem before. All you need to do is reboot—switch the black box off at the wall. Wait a minute and then switch it on again.” While Kate listened to silence she stared in the direction of the bathroom. What was in the bag? Had it been left there by mistake? Possibly plumber’s tools?
“Are you there, love?”
“I’m still here, Mumsie.”
“The internet light blinked for a while and is now lit.”
“Great, that should have fixed it.”
Kate’s mother said she was on the PC, and after a few seconds she reported that her web page had opened. Immediately, she started to chat about other things.
“Mumsie, I’m sorry. I haven’t time right now. I’ll call you tonight or maybe tomorrow evening. I’ve things to do.”
Kate ended the call abruptly, with her mother still talking, and returned to the bathroom. She stared at the bag. Navy blue, two leather-looking handles, a clasp on top. The material was thick, maybe canvass. There was no dust.
This hadn’t been left by a plumber. The apartment was over ten years old and, as far as Kate knew, no plumbing work had been done since construction. No, this bag had been put there deliberately. It had been hidden and only one person could have done it.
The bag dominated the centre of the table. Kate sat, her hands together, her fingers pressed against her lips as though she were praying but preventing the words from coming out.
Her long-haired, chocolate-coloured Siamese cat jumped onto her lap. She pushed him away. “Not now, Tolkien.”
Tolkien wound himself around the chair and her legs until she placed a hand out. He stopped and pushed his head against her fingers.
“OK, let’s do it.” She stood, reached for the clasp, flicked it apart and withdrew her hands. The bag didn’t open. She reached forward again, gritted her teeth and pulled at the clasps. It opened like a doctor’s bag with a hinged metal frame. Inside was something wrapped in black plastic.
Tip it out or take it out? She opted for tipping. The plastic-wrapped item clunked onto the table, followed by a bundle of money, a British passport and a mobile phone.
Kate sat down again, her hands trembling. Through the plastic it looked like a gun.
THREE
Joe came into the lounge and said, “You’re home earlier than I expected.” He bent down to kiss her as she lay sprawled on the sofa.
Kate held up a hand to stop him. “Better not—I’m not feeling well.” She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact.
“Anything I can get you?”
Kate pulled Tolkien closer to her chest, felt her heartbeat against him. “Nothing at the moment.”
“Let me get changed and I’ll attend to your every wish, your every whim.”
She listened to his footsteps on the stairs. This was the final scene she’d played over and over in her head after calling in sick for work. Her first thought was to leave the house and stay with her sister until he moved out. Then she had decided to stuff all his clothes in a bag and leave them outside. She had started by pulling his clothes from the wardrobe and then stopped. His favourite shirt—the one he had worn on the day they met—had brought the memories flooding back.
At Sarah and Peter’s engagement party, she found herself watching from the sidelines. Sarah had once been Kate’s best friend but she hardly knew anyone else there.
And then the man with the enigmatic eyes and perfect white smile leaned close and whispered, “I dare you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I dare you to cut in and ask that guy for a dance.”
Kate realized she’d been watching a mismatched couple—the guy tall and thin, the girl’s head only coming up to his sternum. Both were dressed in browns and black—dowdy and almost severe—out of place at the party.
Joe said, “I reckon they’re from opposing Mafia families and their union was supposed to bring the two together.”
Oddly, she’d had a similar thought. “That would explain it,” she said with a smile.
“So, I dare you to break it up—and see what happens.”
She rose to the challenge, and when she returned, Joe introduced himself.
As they shook hands, he said, “So, what do you think?”
“That while I was watching them, Joe, you were watching me.”
“Guilty as charged.” His lovely teeth flashed in a smile. “But I meant, what do you think about the odd couple now?”
She stole a glance at the skinny man who was again dancing with his short partner. “He’s a Russian spy,” she said, “keeping an eye on American expats.” Then, before he could respond: “OK, now it’s my turn: I dare you to eat one of those disgusting pickled herrings—with a dollop of chocolate sauce.”
The childish game of dare continued for over an hour. Between horror and stitches from laughter she learned that Joe was an Italian-American working with Peter at Oskar, a mobile phone company.
“How do you know Sarah?” he asked.
“My best friend from school.” While Kate had gone on to study physiotherapy, Sarah had read Business Studies at university then travelled the world before finding she had a penchant for selling foreign houses and settled in the Czech Republic. However, Kate knew that Peter was largely the reason for choosing Prague.
Before the party was over, Joe called for a taxi. They slipped away and were driven out to the countryside to join a Witches’ Night celebration. Bonfires pushed flames into the dark sky and the crackle of wood accompanied the cackle of people dressed as witches. Effigies burned on the fires to great cheers and howls of glee and, if not for the food and beer stalls, Kate would have believed they’d been transported back to the Middle Ages.
In the early hours, they drove back to the town square and, after a stroll, found a café where they watched the sun rise over the river.
Kate thought falling in love was for others—if it existed at all—but spending the last few hours with Joe was making her reconsider. Her flight home was booked for the afternoon and, just when she wondered about catching some shut-eye before she’d get ready, Joe asked if she could rollerblade.
“Not since I was a kid.”
She laughed nervously and found herself agreeing when he said, “Then I dare you.”
With the sun warming a broad azure sky, they hired skates and joined crowds of young people on the streets. Although Kate’s balance was better than she’d feared, she accepted Joe’s offered hand. She lost sense of how many miles they’d travelled and, when they reached Prague Zoo, they put their skates in a locker and went in. Kate had been to London Zoo in Regent’s Park but had never imagined a zoo as large as Prague’s.
“It’s over 100 acres with 4,800 animals,” Joe said and then grinned. “I’m not the font of all knowledge—I just read it at the gate.”
They spent a couple of hours jumping on and off the tram to travel around and see the enclosures. Joe’s favourite was the Indonesian Jungle with its exotic animal cries and the humidity of a steam room. For Kate, the giraffe enclosure with its cute baby on long wobbly legs was the best, although Joe likened it
to her on skates. A silverback gorilla reminded Kate of Andrew, a close friend and masseuse at the Royal Berkshire club.
Checking the time on her phone, she said, “I’d better get going, if I’m to catch my plane.” When she saw what he was thinking, she quickly added, “And don’t dare me to miss it. I have work to get to on Monday.”
Joe accompanied her back to her hotel to get her things and then saw her off at the airport. She hoped for a farewell kiss and was not disappointed. He seemed to read her mind, leaned in and lightly brushed her lips with his. Then, instead of pulling back, he kissed her more strongly and, as she responded, he pulled her close.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” she asked with a Cheshire cat grin once it ended.
“It’s the Italian in me.” He hesitated, holding her gaze. “I’d like to see you again. How about next weekend? I’ll come to you.”
Of course, she accepted and could think of nothing else until he turned up at her apartment the following Friday. They toured Windsor Castle, visited her favourite cafés and took a boat out on the river. She discovered then that they not only shared friends and an interest in exercise but they had both lost someone close in the past few years. Her father had died and he’d lost his twin brother. And that was another connection, because Kate’s sister had twins.
A week later she returned to Prague and began a romance that alternated between countries each weekend. In between, he sent her silly poems and messages of love every day and, when they were together, the world became both exciting and interesting and her laughter came easily.
Then after three months he said, “I’ve been offered a job at O2 in the UK.”
“You’ll live near me?”
He grinned. “Not only that, but I dare you to let me live with you.”
Six months she had known him. Six amazing months.
And now this.
“Kate.” Joe had come back into the lounge and stood in the corner. “Where’s my bag?” His tone was calm and flat.
She looked at him.
“You’ve been crying.” Now there was concern in his voice.
She said, “What’s going on?” Tolkien squirmed in her grasp and managed to escape.
Joe said nothing, took a step towards her.
“Stop!”
He froze and held out his arms like he wanted to hug her.
Kate sat up and glared. Her chest was tight as she forced the words out. “How dare you use me! How dare you lie to me! And how dare you have a bloody gun in my house!”
“I can explain.”
There was a long silence and Kate blinked tears from her eyes.
Eventually she said, “I’m waiting.”
“It’s difficult.”
“Difficult to explain why you told me you were American when you have a British passport? I bet it is. And difficult to explain why there’s a picture of you in the passport but it’s not Joe Rossini. No, it’s Joe Ranieri.” She shook her head, wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood. She pointed to the stairs. “Get out!”
Joe didn’t move. “I’m kind of in protection—witness protection.”
“What?”
He sighed, pointed to a chair and sat in it. “You know I said I was in the army? I was. Something happened and… and I had to leave. You see, I know things…”
She waited, held her breath.
He shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “I’m not allowed to talk about it. I shouldn’t even tell you this much.”
“But… so what? You didn’t just quit, you said protection.”
“I had to get out and take an identity. For all intents and purposes I’m now Joe Rossini. The job with Oskar Mobile was a cover, part of my new life.”
Kate sat down and held her head for a moment. “Are you telling me our relationship has been part of your cover, Joe?”
He moved over to the sofa, knelt and cupped her chin gently. “No! I love you, Kate. I’m telling you this precisely because I love you.” He kissed her. After hesitating, she accepted and returned the affection.
When she pulled away, she said, “Why the British passport in the name of Ranieri?”
“That was in case I needed it. I should have changed my ID but you already knew me as Rossini. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with anyone but I fell for you. I want to be with you but at the same time don’t want you involved.”
“And you can’t tell me anything else?”
“Not yet. Not until I can.”
“And how do I deal with it—knowing, but not really knowing?”
That’s when he said, “Trust me. Please just trust me.”
And within a month he was gone.
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
SIXTY-THREE
SIXTY-FOUR
SIXTY-FIVE
SIXTY-SIX
SIXTY-SEVEN
SIXTY-EIGHT
Author’s Note
I DARE YOU…
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIF
TY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
SIXTY-THREE
SIXTY-FOUR
SIXTY-FIVE
SIXTY-SIX
SIXTY-SEVEN
SIXTY-EIGHT
Author’s Note
I DARE YOU…
Map of the Dead: A mystery thriller that's a page turner Page 37