Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics

by Gayle Wigglesworth

  He didn’t feel like sleeping any longer, but he would. The next few days were going to be much busier than he originally thought. He lay down, staring at the ceiling, as he concentrated on relaxing each portion of his body, feeling the tension seep out. He admitted to himself, the smile on his face was entirely due to the fact he was going to see Claire again, soon.

  * * *

  Claire was ensconced in one of the comfy overstuffed chairs near the fireplace, dozing, when Will, James and Kristen noisily entered the room. Claire sat there for a moment, letting the words swirl around her until finally she began to understand what they were talking about.

  “It will be perfectly safe. I promise we can protect you. But we’d like to pick up the assassin. I know he’s just hired juice, but it will be an insult to the Don, you know?”

  “And if we can turn him we can use him to testify against the mole we identify...”

  Claire listened carefully; she knew she was missing a portion of the plan which had probably already been discussed.

  “You’re going to use Kristen as bait to trap the mole?” She was incredulous. “That sounds way too dangerous. Kristen, what are you thinking?”

  Kristen looked at her and then shrugged. “I have to Claire. Someone is selling me out. I’ll never be safe until we discover who it is and remove them.”

  “Well, there has to be another way.” Claire looked at Emily, then Will, finally settling her gaze on James. “This is too dangerous! She isn’t one of your trained agents. She doesn’t belong to your Company. She’s just a person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’s already had her life ripped apart because of it. She doesn’t need any more danger.”

  “Claire, Claire, really, we’ve talked all that out. Believe us it’s the best, fastest and ultimately the safest way. Kristen agrees. We’re going to have someone with her and someone guarding her. She’ll be perfectly safe. I promise.”

  “Well, we’ll see. I’m going to be there too.” Claire was angry; she thought this plan was too dangerous.

  “No, Claire. We want you to go back to Florence, pick up your bags, check out of your hotel, even settle up for the bike and then continue your vacation as you planned. I believe you’re scheduled to go to Venice where you will meet your mother, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes..., “Claire admitted grudgingly, “but I can’t just walk away leaving Kristen still in danger. I have to know she’s safe.”

  “Claire, I’ll be okay. It’s a good plan. It will work. And afterwards the Witness people will place me somewhere safe until after I testify. And then, while I can never have my old life back I can at least build another one without always looking over my shoulder.”

  Claire wasn’t convinced. So they went over the entire plan once more, discussing each detail. In the end she had to agree; she had no more arguments and they were all so certain it would work. They were the experts. This was their business. And by that time it was so late she couldn’t think straight. So she would just pray it worked. And James promised her he’d send someone to Venice to tell her what happened.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Good morning.”

  Only Emily and Kristen were at the table when Claire got to the kitchen.

  “Well you were dead to the world when I got up. I guess you caught up on your sleep.” Kristen smiled.

  Emily went into the kitchen for the coffee pot, and filled the cup sitting in front of Claire. “I made a frittata. Can you eat some?”

  Claire nodded. “Please, it sounds wonderful. Has everyone else eaten?

  “I just finished. And Emily says Will and James went out early.”

  “Where are they?”

  Kristen shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sure they’ll be back soon because they want me to call in.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Claire asked hopefully.

  Kristen shook her head. “It’s the best way, Claire, really!”

  Claire had to accept it. “What will you tell them about how you escaped?”

  “We decided I’ll just pretend we didn’t even know they were there. I’ll tell them we felt too hemmed in there. Because we felt trapped we decided to move on.” She smiled at Claire pleased with their plan.

  “Well, won’t they want to know why you didn’t call sooner? You were supposed to call in yesterday, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” Kristen frowned. “I’ll say I couldn’t get to a safe phone so I waited.”

  Claire nodded. It could work. She sighed; she would have to trust James, Will, and the people at the number she phoned, to make this work. After all, it was their business.

  The frittata was full of mushrooms, spinach, green onions and cheese. Claire managed to eat every bit of the generous slice Emily had served her. In addition she fortified herself with a hunk of bread spread with a soft mild cheese and several pieces of fruit.

  Finally, sated, Claire sat back noticing the newspaper Kristen was scrutinizing. “Is that today’s?”

  Emily nodded. “They deliver it daily down at our mailbox. It helps us keep in touch with the world.”

  Kristen laid the section she was reading on the table and pointed to a very small paragraph at the bottom of a page. “A terrible accident happened yesterday. Two tourists from Rome were found at the bottom of the cliffs between Vernazza and Corniglia. The names are being withheld until the next of kin can be notified.”

  She looked at Claire.

  Claire blanched but managed to keep her voice steady. “How terrible. I wonder what happened.”

  “Those cliffs are treacherous. Many day trippers underestimate the danger,” was Emily’s terse comment. Then, seeking a happier topic, Emily and Kristen quizzed Claire on what she had seen and done while she was in Florence and what she planned to see in Venice.

  “Really, you should go to one of the glass factories on Murano. Don’t take one of the tours offered by the showrooms. They get you there and then hold you captive until you buy. Just take the vaporetti, that’s what they call their water buses, to the island. It’s one of their regular routes. I forget the number, but ask, someone will tell you. Then you can explore the island on your own. You’ll enjoy it. And I think you’ll find the town is quite pretty, much different than the grand palaces of Venice.” Emily was enthusiastic. “I wish I was going with you. I love Venice.”

  Kristen nodded, agreeing. “It’s different from Florence. I went on holiday soon after I arrived in Florence. It’s small, contained. The only modes of transportation are the water buses and your feet. You can’t even use bikes because all the little bridges over the canals have steps that render bikes useless.”

  “Well, there are the water taxis...” Emily said.

  “Don’t even think about taking a water taxi!” Kristen was adamant. “They are way too expensive. As are the gondolas unless you have someone special you want to cuddle with, otherwise, stick to the vaporetti.

  “Look, when you get off the train just stop at Travelers’ Information and find out what number vaporetti you need for your hotel. They’ll give you a map of the city and directions to find your hotel. It’s a little hard to find addresses in Venice as the streets wander and are apt to change their names. The city is not laid out in grids like most cities. But there are signs and arrows everywhere directing you to key places such as San Marco Square or the Rialto Bridge, and it doesn’t take long to get your bearings.”

  “Is it safe?”

  Emily nodded. “It’s probably safer than any other city in Italy. It’s contained, you see. That seems to keep crime to a minimum. Still traveling alone can be tricky. Don’t wander down dark lonely streets; stay where the people are at night. During the day you’ll be very safe. Don’t you agree, Kristen?”

  “Yes, but considering your visit to Italy so far, it wouldn’t hurt you to stay indoors after dark. After all, your mother and her friend will catch up with you Wednesday. Then you could safely wander about after dark.”

&
nbsp; She sounded a lot like Claire’s mother. Before Claire could say anything they were all distracted by the return of James and Will. The house filled with noise as they helped themselves to coffee and joined them at the table.

  “How is everyone this morning?” James was in a good mood.

  After a few pleasantries were exchanged he got down to business. “Well, it’s all arranged. Kristen, we’ll want you to call in and then we’re off.

  “Claire, Emily is going to drive you into Florence, go with you while you retrieve your baggage and check out of the hotel. She’ll take you to the shop where you rented the bike and make sure that’s all taken care of. Then she’ll take you to the train station and get you on the right train for Venice.”

  “Wait, wait.” He forestalled her objection. “You know we all agreed last night that this was the best course of action.”

  She nodded reluctantly, still not comfortable about being excluded.

  “We have a specially trained agent, a woman, on the Italian Police Force who will be Kristen’s companion. That way we’ll have the maximum protection right at her side. Based on your past experiences, we don’t expect much to happen until tomorrow morning. It apparently takes them a little time to get their assassins in place after you call in.” He looked at Kristen, carefully watching her reaction. “But, we will be prepared for anything, anytime. We won’t relax until we have the mole and the Witness Protection people have you tucked safely away once more.”

  Kristen nodded. She looked a little scared but determined; she was ready.

  What could Claire do but agree. “But remember I’m going to be on pins and needles...”

  “We promise we’ll get a message to you Tuesday, and let you know what happened.” James so solemnly crossed his heart that Claire could only grin at the silly gesture.

  “You better,” she warned.

  “Come on, let’s make that call.”

  “I’m going too.” Claire followed, then glancing over her shoulder she saw Emily was right behind her. No one wanted to miss this.

  * * *

  “What’s with LiAnn today? She’s in a pissy mood,” Randy whispered to Millie as he sliced the mushrooms they were going to sauté to serve on top of the crisply fried squares of polenta for one of their antipasto selections.

  Millie shrugged. She had noticed, too. How could she have not when LiAnn almost took her head off for no apparent reason? “She must have had a bad night,” was her only comment.

  And maybe that was all it was. Today, LiAnn’s face was so rigid her age lines appeared deeper making her look ancient. And Millie had noticed she wasn’t able to control the tremor in her hands while she was working. It had struck her how frail LiAnn really was, so she resolved to help her unobtrusively which only resulted in LiAnn loudly and tersely telling her to get lost. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment remember-ing the incident. LiAnn’s rudeness had really been unwarranted.

  “Millie, can you help me here?” Renee asked, turning out the dough he had mixed, which they would roll around the little Wild Boar sausages.

  Millie quickly washed and dried her hands eager to help roll out the dough and encase the sausages. “Are you sure all these will reheat without losing their freshness?”

  “We’re not even going to bake these until just before serving so they’ll be fine. And I’ve used the crispy fried polenta before, so I know it reheats easily. The grilled eggplant and sweet peppers stay at room temperature marinating in garlic and oil, so we don’t have to worry about those. We made good choices here.”

  “Those look good enough to eat already, Millie.” George smacked his lips. “We’re doing very well, right on schedule. I’m just about to grill the vegetables. Randy is almost ready to sauté the mushroom medley. Renee, when you finish here do you want to help him? Where’s LiAnn?”

  He looked around. “Oh, there she is, slicing the chilled polenta. Millie perhaps you can help her finish up there?”

  Millie and Renee nodded. George was playing head chef for them today. It was his turn. They needed a leader so one of them played that role at each of their activities to make sure everything got done efficiently. They covered the pans of sausage rolls and Renee carried them into the big walk-in refrigerator to keep until the kitchen staff would put them in the oven to bake before serving tonight.

  Millie joined LiAnn. “Should I start frying these, LiAnn?” she offered.

  “No, I’m going to fry them,” was her abrupt reply. She must have realized how she sounded because she said in a more normal tone, “Please, if you could finish slicing these, I’m just about ready to start.” She indicated with her head the large deep pan of oil heating on the back burner of the stove.

  “Of course.” Millie stepped up to the table, anxious not to upset LiAnn again. She looked carefully at the rectangles LiAnn had cut, making sure she duplicated her efforts.

  “Stop!”

  Millie paused, her knife in mid-cut, thinking someone was talking to her.

  “Wait, don’t do that.” George actually grabbed LiAnn and pulled her away from the stove.

  “Take your hands off of me.” The fury in LiAnn’s voice was startling. Everyone turned toward her, but George didn’t let go.

  “The oil is too hot. Can’t you see the smoke? If you put the polenta in now it would sputter and pop and most likely bubble over. It would be very dangerous. We could have a bad grease fire. You might even have been burned.”

  LiAnn stopped struggling. She looked at George, her gaze inscrutable.

  Randy stepped around George and took a towel which he wadded up and used to hold the handle of the pan as he carefully moved it to another burner, one that was not lit.

  Renee looked at the flame which had been on under the pan. “My God, who turned the flame up so high? George is right! The polenta contains a lot of moisture which makes it bubble and spit. LiAnn, if you put it in oil that hot, for sure it would have bubbled over. The oil could have even ignited if it reached the coals in the grill.” He pointed to the charcoal grill next to the burner where the pan had been heating.

  Luckily George had been standing there grilling the eggplant and peppers and noticed how hot the oil had become. “George probably saved you from a nasty burn.”

  LiAnn nodded her head and stepped back from George. “Thank you, George. But who turned up the gas? I set it on low, and I checked the temperature with the thermometer just a short time ago. It was 350º. That is the correct temperature, is it not?”

  “Well, it’s not 350º now, and it’s been off the flame for a minute or more.” Randy looked at the thermometer in his hand. “It would have been very dangerous. When it cools down we’ll light the burner once more and carefully monitor it. Then we can finish the polenta.”

  LiAnn nodded her head meekly, moving over to help Millie finish cutting the polenta.

  Millie thought LiAnn had turned the flame too high herself, even though she wouldn’t admit it. It was probably just a senior moment; one more example of LiAnn’s day going amok.

  They finished their chores in the kitchen without further incident. LiAnn had declined to fry the polenta, obviously still shocked at her close brush with disaster. So George good-naturedly finished up with Randy’s help.

  When Wanda came to check on their progress they showed her the prepared food and handed her the written instructions for the final preparation to pass on to the Villa’s kitchen staff. They were all pretty pleased with the results of their morning by the time they joined the others for lunch. They were looking forward to the afternoon when they would visit the Villa’s wine cellars and select the wines that would be served tonight.

  * * *

  “Hi Mom. Sorry I missed you again, but I guess you’re pretty busy. I hope you’re having fun.

  “I’m back in Florence, but checking out in a little bit and will be off to Venice. I’m looking forward to it. I loved my little sojourn to the hill towns. I’m so sorry about the bomb in Florence, but it resulted in
a nice change of schedule for me. I visited Sienna and then the Cinque Terre. They were both beautiful and if you ever come back you need to include them on your itinerary.

  “I won’t call you again unless I have a change of plans. Otherwise, I’ll meet you at the train station in Venice. Look for me near the Travelers’ Information sign. I can’t wait to see you and hear all about the Retreat.

  “Tell Ruth hi for me, and I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  * * *

  Venice’s Santa Lucia Station looked like all the others Claire had seen on this trip. She followed Emily and Kristen’s instructions and made her first stop the Traveler’s Information desk.

  The clerk’s English was good. The words he used were correct even though his accent was confusing. However, he was sincere in his efforts to make her understand. So she left the train station fairly confident she could find her way to Alloggi Riva, the small hotel where they had reserved a room. The first hurdle was getting on the vaporetti number 82 with her wheelie bag. The vaporetti was a boat and, like all boats, it dipped and swayed as people got on and off. And while the wheelie bag was compact and much easier to wheel rather than carry, certain activities such as lifting it into the overhead bin in the train and now getting it from the dock into the body of the vaporetti made Claire wish she had packed lighter.

  A kind man reached out and pulled the bag on board. Claire smiled her thanks murmuring “Grazie.” Abruptly the boat moved away from the dock and Claire clutched a rail to keep from falling. Suddenly she realized she was in Venice. The little boat chugged from one stop to another, sometimes stopping on one side of the wide canal, sometimes across the canal on the other side. People got on and off with a casual skill that Claire envied. She didn’t take a seat when they became available preferring to stand next to her bag, so she would be better prepared to disembark when they arrived at her stop.