by Liz Wolfe
“I saw you taking pictures.” He pulled the lipstick case from her hand. “Now, who are you really working for?”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Forrester.” Zoe pushed at Logan but his weight alone held her pinned to the bed.
“Really? Then what’s this?” He held the gold lipstick camera up.
“Fine. It’s a camera. It’s not a big deal.” She plucked the lipstick from his hand.
“Not a big deal? You’re taking pictures of what you’re stealing for the Triumvirate and it’s not a big deal?”
“I’m curious, is all. If I’d known you were going to be this weird about it, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“And everyone carries a camera in a lipstick tube.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Logan. You can buy those on a hundred different Internet sites. It’s not like it’s a top secret thing.”
“So, you just like to play spy?”
“Like I said, I’m curious. I’m stealing shit that Idon’t know what it is for somebody that I don’t know who they are. Makes a girl wonder. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Logan’s face was just inches from hers. Zoe laughed in spite of his arm across her throat. “You really think I work for someone? Who? Maybe the FBI or the CIA?” She snorted. “How the hell do you think a thief gets a job with them? Just fill out an application? What would I put under former employer?”
Logan eased up on her. She pushed at his shoulders and he rolled off to one side. She was definitely going to ask Ethan for a bonus after this. Zoe sat up as much as she could with Logan still on part of her robe, and looked at him. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
“Into what?” Logan pushed himself up and moved away from her. When he turned away, she popped the bottom off the lipstick case and dropped the memory chip into her pocket.
“You know. All the cloak-and-dagger stuff.” She shrugged. “I thought you were just another hired hand like me.” She pulled her robe closer together.
“My involvement doesn’t concern you. And what’s in the documents doesn’t concern you, either. What were you going to do with the pictures?”
“There were a couple of possibilities.” Zoe gave him a smile that was almost a smirk. “Depending on the significance of that document.”
“Like what?”
“Look. I’m in this for the money. I don’t get paid the full amount until I deliver. I just thought that having some photographs might be good insurance.”
“Insurance?”
“Well, it’s not like I can go to the Better Business Bureau if they stiff me, is it?”
Logan stared at her until she wanted to squirm.
He held his hand out. “Give me the camera.”
“No way. I paid fifty bucks for this.”
“Zoe.” He motioned with his hand.
“It’s mine. And I won’t use it again.”
“You want Axel to find that on you?”
“I guess not.” Zoe handed the lipstick case to him. “Are you finished with the shower? I’d like to take one before we have to leave.”
“Go ahead.”
By the time Zoe stepped out of the shower, she had almost convinced herself that Logan wouldn’t tell the Triumvirate about the photographs. He’d even seemed concerned about Axel finding the camera on her. That meant something. Didn’t it? She supposed she’d find out soon enough when they returned to Florence. Her only other option would be to ditch Logan and head back to the CIA. She didn’t like giving up. She didn’t tolerate failure in herself. She’d take her chances with Logan and the Triumvirate.
Zoe and Logan were standing outside the building that housed the Nazionale Banca d’Italia five minutes before the appointed time. She had to wonder about a banker who would open up at this hour. Evidently the arm of the Triumvirate reached far and wide. A car pulled up and a short, heavyset man emerged.
“Mr. Forrester, Ms. Alexander?” he asked. They nodded in unison and the man unlocked the door and gestured them inside, glancing down the street before he relocked the door after them.
“Looking for someone?” Zoe asked. “What?”
“You were looking down the street. Were you looking for someone?”
“Oh, no. I’m just not accustomed to opening the bank at this hour.”
“I can imagine.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. Alberto Bonacelli.” He held out a hand and Logan shook it.
“This way,” he said and walked across the polished marble floor past the counter and unlocked a door. The room contained a square table with two straight-backed wooden chairs. The back wall held an array of safety-deposit boxes in four different sizes. Zoe figured about half of them were unused as they had both keys hanging from the locks. Bonacelli pulled one of the largest boxes from the wall and set it on the table.
He turned one of the keys in the lock and removed it.
“We don’t need one this big.” Zoe pointed to a smaller box. “That size will be fine.”
Bonacelli glanced at her, then smiled and pulled the second key from the lock. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll use this one.” He handed her the second key. “Normally, I would encourage you to take your time; however, I would appreciate your speed tonight.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Zoe and Logan alone in the room.
Logan opened the lid of the box while Zoe unzipped her vest and pulled the envelope out. She placed the envelope inside, closed the lid, and turned her key in the lock. Logan opened the door and motioned to Bonacelli.
“Very good.” Bonacelli turned his key in the lock, then replaced the box in its place.
“Isn’t there some paperwork we need to fill out?” Zoe asked.
“No. It will not be necessary.” Bonacelli escorted them to the front door, unlocked it, and waved them out.
“That was too strange,” Zoe said, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Why didn’t we have to fill out paperwork?”
“My guess is that he has an arrangement with someone on the Triumvirate.”
“Isn’t that convenient? But why? This is a tinybranch of a large bank. And it’s on a small island. He gave me the key so I’ll have to come back to get the documents.” She shook her head. “Just doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ve learned to not question the contacts the Triumvirate seems to have.” Logan stopped and looked at her for a moment. “I’d suggest you do the same.”
December 9, Florence, Italy
Zoe took a sip of the bitter espresso the maid had brought her and wished it was tea. But the maid had informed her it was espresso or nothing. She’d taken the strong coffee drink to give herself something to do with her hands while she tried not to think about what Logan might be telling the Triumvirate. He’d left her in a sun-drenched sitting room while he talked to Weisbaum. She looked out onto the flagstone patio and wondered if the Triumvirate lived in the villa or just used it as an office. The place was enormous and opulent. When she’d followed the maid from the entryway to the sitting room, she’d glanced into two large dining rooms, a parlor, and a ballroom. The floors were marble or hardwood, many covered with luxurious oriental carpets. The furnishings looked old and seemed to span a couple of centuries. She set the espresso down and stood just as the maid arrived.
“Please follow me,” she said in German-accented English. Zoe followed the middle-aged woman down several long hallways until they arrived at a set of tall double doors. The woman knocked softly, opened the door, and gestured to Zoe.
Zoe’s heart slammed against her rib cage as she entered. Karl Weisbaum stood by one of the tall windows, a phone held to his ear. Axel von Bayem and Pierre Simitiere stood before a large, ornate desk, intently studying some papers that they passed back and forth to each other.
“Zoe, come in,” Weisbaum said. He set the phone on the desk and took the seat behind it. “Would you care for more espresso?”
“No, thanks. I’m hoping to catch some shut-eye soon.” She walked o
ver to the desk and sat in one of the chairs before it.
Weisbaum nodded. “I would imagine between the jet lag and the lack of sleep last night that you could use some.”
“Where’s Logan?” she asked.
“Logan has other work to attend to.” von Bayem said. “Why?”
Zoe shrugged. “Just curious.”
“You aren’t paid to be curious.”
“Axel, stop.” Simitiere smiled at her. “Forgive him. He has no manners. Logan told us about last night.”
“Did he?” Zoe was glad she was sitting because her legs felt watery and weak. But Simitiere didn’t seem angry. Even von Bayem was no more gruff than usual. Relief flowed through her. Logan hadn’t told them about her lipstick camera.
“You handled the situation very well.”
“Did they catch the other thieves?” Zoe asked.
“No. I understand they are still searching everyone who leaves the island. I’m sure they’ll find them in a few days.” Weisbaum smiled. “The funds for this job have been wired to your account.”
“Really? I thought you’d want me to go back and pick up the envelope before you paid me.”
“No. That won’t be necessary. Transportation has already been arranged.”
“I see.” Her hand slipped into her pocket to pull out the key Alberto Bonacelli had given her. “Don’t you need this to open the box?”
Weisbaum glanced at the key, but made no move to take it. “We have another job lined up for you. It’s close by and we should have the details by tomorrow.”
“What is it?” She dropped the key on his desk.
“We’ll give you all the information soon.” Weisbaum stood up. “In the meantime, enjoy your stay in
Florence.”
“Sure. You know where to reach me.” By the time Zoe reached the door, the maid had appeared and escorted her to the front door. She politely refused the car they had waiting for her and walked the six blocks to the Hotel Medici, alternately giving thanks that Logan hadn’t said anything about her camera and wondering just why he hadn’t.
9
December 10, Florence, Italy
ZOE SAT ON A COLD iron bench nibbling at an Italian ice and watching the house across the street. Twinkling white lights were strung across the roof and around each window. Through the large window in front she could see part of a fireplace mantle covered in greenery and big red bows.
No one had come out of the house in the three hours she’d been sitting there. She was wasting her time. Besides, she shouldn’t even be here. She’d promised Ethan that she wouldn’t try to contact her mother until after this was over. Not that she was going to contact her mother. She was just sitting there watching the house. Just in case she came out. Just to get a glimpse of her. There was no harm in that, was there? She shifted on the bench, tossed the remnants of her Italian ice in the trash bin, and opened her backpack. She might as well use the time wisely.
In thirty-six hours she was going to break into the Istituto e Museo di Storica della Scienza, the Institute and Museum of the History of Science. Her objective was a document by Augustino Columbo. All she knew about Columbo was that he had studied with Einstein for several years in Prague, and the two men had stayed in contact after Einstein moved to America. Of course, she would be photographing the document for Ethan before she turned it over to the Triumvirate.
Ethan had been a bit more upset than she’d thought was really warranted about the lipstick camera. Evidently they actually cost more than fifty bucks.
She opened up the floor plan for the first floor of the museum. This job could be a wild-goose chase. Supposedly the document was hidden in the silk lining of a box that held instruments that had belonged to Columbo. How could the Triumvirate know that?
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Logan dropped to the bench beside her.
“Hiding? I just wanted some fresh air. This looked like a nice place. Where have you been the past two days?”
“Working.” Logan shrugged. “And checking up on some things.”
“Really?”
“You know I spent hours on the Internet and couldn’t find one single place that sells a camera disguised as a lipstick case.”
Zoe smiled in spite of the chill of dread moving up her spine. “Maybe you just don’t know where to shop.”
“That’s possible. Or maybe you’re a spy.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re the one who approached me, remember?” She folded the plans and stuffed them back into her pack. “In fact, I refused your offer, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. It was a great ploy.”
“Logan, I don’t have time for this. I’m trying to get ready for a job.” She started to stand, but Logan jerked her back down on the bench.
“They might be watching us, so just listen to me.” Logan smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And don’t look around.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were about to.”
He was right but she wasn’t going to admit it. “So, what did you want to say?”
“I haven’t told the Triumvirate anything about you. That alone should convince you that I’m not out to expose you.”
“Why?”
“I have my own reasons. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not working for them or against them.”
“That’s cryptic enough. Why tell me this?”
“Because you’re working for the CIA and eventually you’ll find out some stuff. If you don’t get killed first.”
“I’m not working for anyone but myself. And I’m not going to get killed.”
“I just don’t want you telling the CIA anything about me.”
“I wouldn’t know how to go about telling them anything.”
“Look, I’m proposing a truce. I don’t tell the Triumvirate anything about what you’re doing, and you don’t give the CIA any information about me and what I’m doing.”
“What you’re doing with the Triumvirate is of no interest to me. I’m here to steal what they want and to make a lot of money doing it. I don’t care what it is they want as long as I can procure it and get paid.”
Logan stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and laughed. “You aren’t going to admit to working for the CIA, are you?”
Zoe pulled her gaze away from Logan and automatically focused on the house she’d been watching all morning. Admitting to working for the CIA was out of the question. Logan seemed sincere, and that fit with the background on him she’d gotten from Ethan.
The door to the house opened and a young man stepped outside, then turned back. Her breath almost stopped.
She could see a woman inside the house talking to the man. That could be her mother and the man could be her brother. She couldn’t see either of them clearly. The man waved and bounded down the steps to a blue Alfa Romeo, got into the car, and drove away. Her eyes shot back to the door, but it was closed.
Zoe almost forgot to breathe. Ethan was right. She should have left this until the job was over. The realization that she might have just seen her brother and mother shook her. And she still had to deal with Logan’s accusation.
She took a deep breath and tried to forget about the man and woman. Tried to concentrate on the moment. There were two other cars parked on the street. Earlier there had been only one. The black sedan was new. She might not be an agent, but she was used to casing a place. It had been over an hour since she’d even seen a car drive down the street. The black sedan pulled out and drove slowly. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to see the driver or passengers. Zoe frowned at the car, then looked at Logan.
He turned to follow her gaze just as a window rolled down and a rifle barrel emerged. Logan pushed Zoe off the bench and fell on top of her. Shots whizzed overhead as the sedan drove by.
Logan pushed himself off her, grabbed her arm, and hauled her off the ground.
“What—” Her question was cut off by Logan pulling her along beside him,
deeper into the park. When they were no longer visible from the street, he stopped.
“Friends of yours?” he asked.
“I don’t have friends.”
“Let’s get out of here.” He pulled her through the park, emerging on a street just two blocks from her hotel. There was no sign of the black sedan, and they slowed their pace to a stroll.
“You want to come back to my room?” she asked.
Logan grinned. “Any other time, that would sound like a good idea. But I don’t know if they’ve bugged your room. Let’s stop up there and have some coffee.” He nodded toward a small café. When they reached the door, he held it open for her.
“Make mine tea.” Zoe walked past him and headed for the restroom. She locked the door behind her and turned the water on. For a moment she was afraid that she would throw up. Who had shot at them? And why? She splashed water on her face and used a paper towel to wipe it off. Her reflection in the mirror showed a pale face and a tightness around her mouth. She tossed the paper towel in the trash bin. Hiding in the restroom wasn’t going to fix anything. She unlocked the door and walked to the table where Logan sat.
“You have any idea who that was?” he asked.
“No clue.”
“Your hands are shaking.” Logan put his hand over hers.
“No shit. I don’t get shot at all that often. In fact, I do everything I can to prevent it.”
“I’d think a CIA agent would be a little more used to it.”
“I’m not a CIA agent. If I was, I’d probably be handling this a lot better.”
“So what are you?” Logan paused while their drinks were placed on the table. “Who are you?”
“I’m pretty much who you think I am. Zoe Alexander, daughter of Zeke Alexander. A thief.” She sipped the tea he’d ordered for her, then put the cup down. “You said you aren’t working for them or against them. I assume you’re here because of your uncle?”
“My uncle?”
“Giovanni Castiglia.”
Logan sipped his coffee, then put it down. “Yes, he’s my uncle. My only chance of finding him is to work with the Triumvirate.”
“How did you get involved with them?”