It Takes a Thief

by Liz Wolfe

  “It’s a long story. How did you get involved with the CIA?

  Zoe looked at him and weighed the value of telling him what she was really doing.

  “If we’re going to trust each other, I think we need to be honest,” Logan said.

  “Sure. You go first.”

  “You are such a bitch.” His smile softened the comment on her character.

  Zoe shrugged and played with her cup, centering it precisely on the paper doily, rubbing the small drip of tea from one side.

  “Fine. After my uncle disappeared, I did everything I could to locate him. Without involving the authorities. I knew that my clearance would be yanked and I’d lose my career with the NSA if they even got wind that my uncle had been abducted.”

  “He was abducted? I thought he had just disappeared.”

  “Uncle Giovanni often went into hiding of a sort when he was working on something. I guess he liked the solitude. But he’d always stayed in touch with me. E-mails, an occasional phone call. This time, there was nothing. So I was worried.”

  “So you just assumed something had happened?” Zoe asked.

  “Yeah, I assumed. But there was no ransom demand, no contact from anyone. Then I got an e-mail from him. He told me that he was all right but that he needed my help. He said I would need to come to him and that someone from the Order would contact me.”

  “How could you be sure it was really from your uncle?”

  “We have a code phrase that we’ve used since I was a little kid.”

  “Couldn’t they have tortured him to get the code phrase? Isn’t that the way it’s done?”

  “Sure. But no one even knows that we have one. Besides that would mean that they had taken him to get to me.” Logan shrugged. “That seemed just a bit far-fetched.”

  “But you still don’t know where your uncle is?”

  “No. I quit my job at the NSA when they contacted me. When I asked about Uncle Giovanni, Weisbaum just told me that he was fine and that I’d be able to see him soon. That was a while ago.”

  “So you have no way of knowing if he’s even still alive?”

  “At least I know that. Once a week, I get a short phone call from him. Very short. We barely have time to say hello and it’s over.”

  “It seems like they want you for some reason.” Zoe tore open a packet of sweetener and poured it into her cup. “Any idea what it is?”

  “Yeah. They want me to decode documents. That’s what I’ve been working on the past couple of days. Most of them are written in some kind of code.

  All of them different.”

  “And they’ll just string you along until you’ve decoded everything? Then what? Kill you and your uncle?”

  “I’m working on preventing that. Trying to convince the Triumvirate that I’m on their side, that I want in on what they’re doing. If I can get them to trust me, I might be able to get to Uncle Giovanni.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t tell them about my camera then. Exposing a traitor would earn you a few trust points, wouldn’t it?”

  “Possibly. On the other hand, I was the one who insisted we needed you, so it could work the other way, too. And I figure it doesn’t hurt to have the CIA working on them, either.”

  “Then why didn’t you just go to the CIA when the Order first contacted you?” Zoe followed Logan’s glance at the door of the café. The fact that he looked there several times every minute make her uneasy.

  “I was with the CIA for a while before I moved over to the NSA. I know how they work. They would have tried to get Uncle Giovanni out alive, but it wouldn’t have been their first priority. They want to take the Order down, and if someone dies in the process, they figure it’s just collateral damage.”

  She didn’t know a lot about how the CIA worked, but it made sense. “What makes you think I won’t tell the CIA what you’re doing?”

  “It doesn’t matter if you do. They’re already involved. That doesn’t change what I’m here to do. Of course, if they know that I’m decoding the documents, they might not like that.”

  Zoe had to make a choice. Confirm that she was working with the CIA or continue to deny it. All she had to go on was her instinct. She put her cup down, looked at Logan, and went with her gut.

  “They’ve already figured that out,” she admitted.

  “So what’s your part in our little drama?” he asked.

  “Pretty much what you see. The CIA recruited me to steal for them. This is just one more job.” She decided there was no reason to get into her entire background.

  “I don’t think so.” Logan grinned at her. “This is more than stealing. This is spying. The CIA doesn’t send amateurs out in the field.”

  “I’m not exactly an amateur. I’ve been stealing most of my life.”

  “But you’re relatively new at the spy thing.”

  “I had some training.”

  “That doesn’t make you a spy. That just gives you the basics.”

  “It’s enough for what I’m doing. All I have to do is steal what the Triumvirate wants, then I photograph it before I turn it over to them. The rest is up to the CIA.”

  Logan looked at her for a moment. “So, do we have a truce?”

  “I don’t see why not. You do your thing; I’ll do mine. We help each other out when we can and stay out of the way when we can’t.”

  “Now if we just knew who was gunning for us this morning.”

  December 10, Florence, Italy

  Mussad jerked at the sound of Akbar’s gun. He looked out Akbar’s window as the man pushed the woman to the ground and fell on top of her.

  “Idiot!” he yelled at Akbar as he sped off. “We were supposed to just watch them. What were you thinking?”

  “That I could solve the problem right now.” Akbar glared at Mussad. “And I would have if you hadn’t hit that bump.”

  “And that is why this was not the place to take them out. Ziyad is going to be very displeased.” Mussad drove to the corner, turned, and drove to the next corner before he slowed the car.

  Akbar paled at that comment and Mussad snorted.

  “I should make you tell him yourself how you bungled it.”

  “It could have worked. And if it had, Ziyad would have been pleased with me.”

  “He will not be pleased. Now they are forewarned. It will be more difficult to kill them.” Mussad was pissed. Now he would have to tell Ziyad what Akbar had done. Not that Ziyad would blame him. Hopefully. He would have to make sure Ziyad understood that Akbar was acting on his own. But the real problem was that now the two infidels would be watching for something to happen. He took a deep breath. He could still do it. It would be a little more difficult but he would make it happen. Anything to take down The Order.

  He only wished he could kill his father as well. He was ashamed that the son of a whore had fathered him. But it must be all part of Allah’s design. Because he had found out about the Order and their evil plans from his father.

  Mussad parked the car in the hotel garage and got out. He’d need to return the rental car and get another one. He didn’t really think the couple would report the incident to the police, but he couldn’t take that chance. Ziyad insisted on caution whenever possible. And he was right. There were too many times when caution wasn’t possible if they were to attain their objective. Akbar continued on to their room while

  Mussad stopped at the concierge’s desk to request a different rental car. By the time Mussad arrived in the room, Akbar seemed to have realized that he’d made a mistake. He sat on the edge of the bed watching Mussad nervously as the call was made to Ziyad.

  As soon as Ziyad answered, Mussad told him about the incident. Fortunately Ziyad wasn’t terribly upset.

  “It is disappointing, but not a disaster.”

  “I fear they will be prepared now that they have been shot at,” Mussad said.

  “This is true. But still it will not stop us. Allah will give us a way to kill them. And that will slow down th
e Order in their evil quest.”

  “Yes, it will slow them down. I only wish there was a way to stop them.”

  “Of course,” Ziyad said. “That is the ultimate goal. But we must get there in increments. And that means we need more information about what they are doing.”

  Mussad was silent. More information could only come from his father. After a moment, Ziyad confirmed his fears.

  “Tell Akbar to return home. I want you to contact your father. Tell him that you want to come for a visit.”

  “Must I see him?” Mussad asked, hating the whinein his voice.

  “I know you do not wish to. But it is necessary. We must know more and Vito Cimino is the fastest way to get information. If you pretend to be the loving son, he will tell you everything. Perhaps not all at once, but eventually. Convince him that you are interested in joining him in The Order.”

  “Yes.” Mussad straightened in his chair. He should be delighted to be of use in this manner. “I will do it for Allah.”

  “Good. And you need not stay with him long. As soon as you have gleaned enough information from him, you will return. You can always visit him again later.”

  “It will be done, Ziyad.”

  December 15, Florence, Italy

  Drake stepped out of the miniscule shower stall and grabbed a towel from the rack. As Dante Russo, he would be expected to stay in one of the nicer hotels in Florence, frequent the elegant restaurants, and wear expensive clothes. But first, he wanted a couple of days to check out the situation. To see who the active players were and how he might use them to obtain the information he wanted.

  He wrapped the threadbare towel around his waist and walked into the poorly lit bedroom. A glance at his watch told him that Angelo wouldn’t be back with his coffee for another five minutes. If the little monster came back at all. He dropped to the sagging bed and folded his legs into a full-lotus position. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, he cleared his mind of everything. Thoughts of the Order, the CIA, his mission, his very surroundings, dropped away as the seconds passed. He forced himself to think about his breathing, concentrating on the feeling of air bellowing out his lungs then whooshing out his nostrils. His mind floated and his body relaxed completely. In a few minutes he was rejuvenated from the transatlantic flight, the jet lag washed away, his mind clear and sharp. He took another deep breath, stretched his limbs, and rose from the bed just as a knock sounded at the door to his room. He thought he could smell the coffee through the flimsy door.

  “Café, just as you directed.” Angelo held out the large paper cup to Drake.

  “Graci.” Drake took the hot cup and handed the child a couple of euros. The boy’s eyes lit up at the money and he smiled. “Bring me the same thing tomorrow morning at eight.”

  “Si. Would you like canolo or pasticiotto as well?

  My mama makes excellent pasticiotto. I bring you some with your coffee?”

  “Si. I would love some of your mother’s pasticiotto. With ricotta cheese, si?”

  “Si. Ricotta. She make the best.”

  “Buon. Eight, then. Do not forget.” He ruffled Angelo’s curly dark hair with one hand and lifted the coffee to his lips with the other. Angelo scampered down the dirty hallway, no doubt to tell his mother to make pasticiotto with ricotta for tomorrow morning. Drake returned to the bed, pulled his cell phone from his briefcase, and punched in Zoe’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Zoe. Drake here. Can you talk?”

  “Would I have answered if I couldn’t?”

  “Where are you?”

  “At a café on De Panzini, why?”

  “How did the job go? I heard there was a little problem.”

  “You could say that. Some dumb ass decided to break in on the same night. I understand they got away with some jewels that were on display and a couple of valuable paintings. It played havoc with getting off the island.”

  “Ethan tells me that you had to drop the document at a bank in the middle of the night?”

  “Yep. That part was weird, but mostly because weput the document in a safety-deposit box. Then when we met with the Triumvirate, they weren’t at all interested in me retrieving the damn thing. They didn’t even ask for the key.”

  “Sounds like they had an arrangement with the bank, or at least with the bank manager.”

  “I guess. But if that’s the case, they must have an ongoing thing with them because the manager obviously had an extra key to that particular deposit box.”

  “You think that’s significant?”

  “Well, why would they have an arrangement with that particular bank? I mean, it’s a very tiny branch in Sardinia. Sardinia is a tourist area. It just kind of made me think that it was the bank in general. Like maybe they have an arrangement with the mother bank that extends to every freaking branch. Geez, Drake, what the hell would I know about it?”

  “You sound a little tense,” Drake said sipping his coffee.

  “Yeah, well, Logan and I were shot at today in a park. Kind of shook me up.”

  “What were you two doing at a park?”

  “I was going over the plans for the next job. Logan showed up to talk to me.”

  “How did Logan know you were at the park?” Drake asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

  “Had you been there before?”

  “Sure. It’s not far from the hotel. I like to walk, and it’s a nice spot.”

  “Still how did he know you were there?” Drake paused but there was no answer from her. “He might have bugged you. And they might have bugged your room. Have you made any calls from your room?”

  “No. I called Ethan from a pay phone on the street.”

  “Good. Don’t make any calls from your room. We need to talk. I’ll meet you tomorrow at the Boboli Gardens. Go to the amphitheater and wait for me. Nine thirty. And be sure to erase this number from your call history.”

  “Sure. But, Drake, what are you doing in Italy?”

  “Be there. At nine thirty.” He punched the end button. What the hell was he doing in Italy? Besides trying to hook up with some terrorists and hoping he could rescue Hank Robertson from the Order without the CIA discovering that he’d lied to them?

  December 16, Florence, Italy

  Zoe arrived at the Boboli Gardens shortly after nine and paid her admission fee. She took a pamphlet witha map of the gardens and strolled along the walkways toward the amphitheater. The place was almost empty that early and Zoe regretted she didn’t have the time to fully enjoy all the statuary and neatly manicured lawns bordered with hedges. When she reached the amphitheater, she sat in front of a statue and read the rest of the pamphlet. In minutes, Drake approached from the Pitti Palace. Before she could say anything, he signaled her to silence with a finger pressed to his lips. She picked up her backpack and followed him out of the amphitheater and along a path, then behind a thick hedge.

  She watched as Drake took the backpack from her, opened it, and dumped the contents on the ground. He pawed through everything, examining books, pens, her wallet, makeup case. Then he examined the bag itself, running his hands over every inch of it. He removed her jacket and gave it the same attentive examination, then motioned for her to take her shoes off. She complied and after looking at them closely, he handed them back and knelt to run his hands slowly over her pants. When he reached her hips, she batted his hands away, but he frowned at her and continued. She stood still while his examination moved to her torso and chest. Her face flamed when her nipples stiffened as his hands swept across her breasts.

  “You’re clean,” he announced.

  “What was that about?” she demanded, stuffing her belongings back into the backpack.

  “I was checking for a bug. The Triumvirate or Logan could have planted one on you.”

  “I can’t imagine what for.”

  “Ethan told me that Logan found the lipstick camera. You really think he hasn’t said anything to them about tha
t?”

  “He told me he didn’t. And if he did, they haven’t mentioned it, and they still have jobs for me to do.”

  “Just because they don’t trust you doesn’t mean they won’t use you, Zoe.”

  “I’m doing the next job alone, so they must trust me to some degree.”

  “Doesn’t make sense that Logan wouldn’t have told them about the camera, unless he has a different agenda from the Order.”

  Zoe only debated for a moment. It wasn’t just that she was supposed to trust Drake because he was her handler. Or that she knew she was absolutely out of her depth with the Order and could use all the professional help she could get. It was also her instinct that made her tell Drake about Logan’s motives.

  “He does.” But even though Logan had said that it didn’t matter if the CIA knew what he was doing, she still felt like she was ratting him out. “The Order has his uncle, Giovanni Castiglia. His only goal is to get his uncle away from them.”

  Drake barked a short laugh and shook his head.

  “I believe him. He was afraid that if he went to the CIA, they would consider his uncle’s death as acceptable collateral damage.”

  “So you told Logan that you’re working for the CIA?”

  “No. I’m not stupid, Drake. He figured that out from the camera. And probably from the fact that I’m just about the worst CIA agent ever.”

  “That’s probably what’s saving your life. These guys have been able to sniff out every agent we’ve sent in. You don’t behave like an agent, so they aren’t concerned.”

  Zoe grinned at him. “Well, as long as there’s an upside to my ineptness.”

  Drake returned the grin. “Ninety percent of a successful op is doing what works. Where’s your next job? And when?”

  “Tonight. The Institute and Museum of the History of Science. You ever heard of Augustino Columbo?” Drake shook his head. “He studied with Einstein for several years in Prague. After Einstein moved to America, they stayed in touch. Evidently the man was brilliant.”

  “What are you stealing?”

  “The museum has a box of instruments that belongedto Columbo. According to the Triumvirate, there’s a document hidden in the lining of the box. I’m to take the document and leave no one the wiser.”