by Rick Blechta
“Me neither.” Shannon sat up. “Why did you agree so easily to come to Glasgow with me? I was certain it was going to take some heavy pressure. I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you, and I want to make that perfectly clear from the start.”
Maria smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t trust me either. If I’m to tell you what you’re asking, you need to understand why I did what I did in the first place. Haven’t you been curious about that, or has the mighty detective already figured everything out?”
“Spare me the sarcasm, okay?”
“Sorry. Bad habit.”
“How much of the BS you fed me the other day is true? Every time I’ve heard something about you or someone has told me something you said, there’s been a grain of truth in it, but only a grain.”
“Fair enough. Okay, here goes. This is the story, and it’s the truth as far as it goes. My cousin Giovanna was indeed talented and beautiful. It was always ‘Giovanna this’ and ‘Giovanna that’. Even my own parents prattled on about her all the time. I was always the ‘shy, quiet one’, not as pretty and generally just a lesser person. They never came out and said that, but I could tell.
“But as you know, there’s a lot more to me than they imagined. Gia was a good actress, but I was better. She could only speak English and bad Italian. It was little Maria who excelled at languages, not Gia.
“She was a good girl for the most part. I was the one always getting her into trouble. I’ll bet you thought it was me who ratted her out when we’d sneak out to meet boys, right? It was, but I was the one who set things up. She took the heat because they never for a moment thought Maria would do anything bad on her own.
“Mamma Vennuti was a real hammer with her. One thing I got a charge out of doing was dressing up like Gia and doing something bad, like kissing a boy where the priest would be sure to see it, then Mamma V would find out and the crap would fly, I’ll tell you!”
“Didn’t you like your cousin?” Shannon asked.
Maria’s answer came out almost in a wail. “I loved my cousin! She was my best friend, my only friend!”
“Seems you chose a funny way to show it.”
“Maybe, but I also had to put up with a lot because of her. I never got the chances she did. And Gia really didn’t mind. She’d do the same to me when she could.”
Shannon wondered if that last statement were true but kept her mouth shut.
“The part about Gia running off was almost the truth, only she’d planned on doing it when she was twenty, and not for the reasons I told you. I didn’t know any of it at the time, but Mamma V. had told Gia everything about her mother.”
“What things?”
“Like who her father really was. That was a horribly stupid thing to do. You see, Gia was a hopeless romantic, and she’d been imagining all her life that her father was a count or something, and someday he’d come to take her away to his magnificent home. She’d have me come with her, and we’d live like princesses.
“Her father was wealthy, only it turned out that he was also a very bad man. Gia’s mother did come to a sad end when she finally went to confront him. That part was all true. Gia’s mum had also been a romantic, and she’d fallen for a mafia boss from New York.”
Shannon shook her head in wonder. “Not Luigi Mastrocolle!”
Maria nodded her head. “One and the same. Giovanna’s mother didn’t know it at the time, and when she went back to Italy to try to meet up with him again, that’s when she found out, and I guess that’s why she jumped off that bridge—or maybe Mastrocolle helped her. I like to think he did.”
“So what happened to Gia?”
Maria went quiet, and Shannon could tell she was feeling a fair bit of emotional stress at the question. It also crossed her mind that the Chameleon’s current silence might be just another dodge.
After another few minutes, the girl began speaking again, her voice harsh and grating. “Gia got cancer, the really bad kind. It ate her up in about six months.”
“So how do you fit into all this, and why the elaborate charade pretending to be your cousin?”
Now Maria was crying. “Because when my cousin was dying, she made me swear to get her father for what he did! And I’m about to do that! That’s why you’re here.”
“Whoa! Back up the dump truck. That’s why I’m here? What the hell are you talking about?”
Maria got control of herself, but her voice still had a sharp edge. “You don’t honestly think I’d just bow my head and come along nicely to what would certainly be my funeral, do you?”
“So you’re telling me that you’ve planned all this?”
“Don’t be dense. What I did was set certain things in motion, and this is the result.”
Now it was Shannon who was silent for several minutes, as she digested what she’d just been told. The conclusion was either the girl next to her was certifiable, or this whole thing had just gotten impossibly complicated.
“Okay, I can see why you impersonated your cousin. You’re standing in for her, aren’t you?”
Maria was was grim. “Got that in one.”
“But you’re telling me you set this whole thing up? How?”
“I knew that I had to get at Mastrocolle and make him suffer for what he did. The question was how. It took a lot of careful research.”
“Research? What kind of research?”
“I had some money, and Gia left everything she had to me, so I made up a story about a job that would take me all around the world and fed that to my mother. Then I packed up and went to the States. It wasn’t hard to meet people who knew Mastrocolle or worked for him, and after several months I managed to worm my way in among them. As you can imagine, I make a pretty good drug mule. At first, I helped Mastrocolle make a lot of money.”
“What about the boyfriend who was in with you on the drug deal that went wrong?”
“Paul was a greedy fool and stubborn as all get out. I almost lost everything because of him. He had to be played just right. All men do.”
Shannon was well aware of what that might mean. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
“With Paul, I was closer to the inside of his organization. The Mafia is getting squeezed on all sides: law enforcement, biker gangs, Russian mob, Asian Triads, you name it. The old man needed really a big score. With a little encouragement from Paul and me, that was turned into a huge score.”
“Why didn’t you work for the police?”
“Only a cop would say that! Look, Shannon, you and I both know there are too many people on the take. That would have been an incredibly stupid thing to do. No, I wanted his own greed to bring him down.
“All the time I was working in New York, I was also setting up my other bases from which to operate.”
“How many do you have?”
“I told you about the one in Hamburg, even though I’d already cleared out of there. That was to get you out of the way so the New Yorkers could grab Michael. Sadly, the plan did a ball’s up when he didn’t come back to his room the other night.”
“Why would you need me out of the way for that?”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt by doing something stupidly heroic. I actually like you, Shannon. Michael, too, for that matter.”
“What if I hadn’t figured out who you were?”
The girl shrugged. “I had contingency plans.”
Shannon could only shake her head.
Maria continued, “You found the apartment in Montreal, and I also know that in New York you met with those two old drunks who used to work for Mastrocolle.”
“You were following me.”
Maria’s smile reminded Shannon of a fox. “Certainly. And I was cheering from the far side of the restaurant when you had that touching rendezvous with your ex over dinner. You see, it was very useful to have everyone looking around for Giovanna when I could just stand and watch things happen as Maria.” A road sign flashed by. “I have to use the loo.Mind if we stop? There’s a rest area c
oming up.”
They pulled off and parked near the entrance. Shannon followed Maria in, walking just behind her right elbow and ready for anything to happen. Inside the deserted washroom, Shannon waited outside the stall, not taking any chances.
Maria had gone in, but the girl who came out was a completely different person, certainly not unknown to Shannon, although she’d never met her in the flesh before.
Coolly walking over to the sinks, she opened her purse and took out mascara and lipstick. After a bit of makeup and a quick combing of her long brown hair, she turned around and casually dropped a wig of short brown hair into a stunned Shannon’s hand. “Say hello to Giovanna, Shannon. Looks like you missed this when you searched me earlier.”
Her voice sounded different: lower, more throaty and far more sexy, her accent slightly less jarring. She moved with liquid grace. The damn Chameleon even managed to seem taller somehow.
Throughout the display, the detective felt as if she’d been clobbered in the gut by a two-by-four and doubted if she’d ever be able trust her skills again. About the only thing she’d done right was realize that something wasn’t kosher in the Rota household. Everything else she had missed. Everything!
The Chameleon patted Shannon’s cheek. “In a bar on St. Denis in Montreal, you actually asked me for directions back to the airport. Remember the blonde?”
Shannon remembered all right, and her face burned with embarrassment. All the time she’d thought she was being so clever following up her leads. And all the time, the Chameleon had been watching her, no doubt laughing at her pathetic attempts. She was so angry with herself that she had to hit back.
“Do you know what you almost did to my family back in Toronto?”
The Chameleon sighed. “There are only two things I regret, Shannon: what happened to Angus and getting your children tangled up in this. I tried telling Angus that he should leave, but he was a stubborn old goat, you know? As for what happened at your farm, I was in New York at the time, pushing a few buttons, and I don’t know what I would have been able to do even if I had been there. Those damned Brums were always the spanner in my plans. There is one good thing that came out of it, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Michael and you got together.” She started for the washroom door and said over her shoulder, “Aren’t you even going to thank me?”
***
I don’t know how many hours later it was when the lights went on and the room started to fill up with people.
My hands and feet were numb from the plastic ties being too tight.
I’d spent the time being alternately angry with myself for being taken so easily, worrying about Tommy, worrying about Shannon and trying to come to grips with what Rolly had told me just before I’d been nabbed.
That was probably the most stunning thing of all: to know that the twenty-four years I’d spent in musical exile had been based on totally wrong information. Neurotica would probably have failed ultimately, but we could have had a much longer ride. I could have spared myself anguish that had almost overwhelmed me on more than one occasion.
Angus, how could you have lied to me like that?
The first person to enter the room stuffed the bag down over my head again. It had a musty smell that made me want to gag.
Across from me, the armchair creaked as someone sat down heavily. Several people in the room who had been talking abruptly stopped.
From the chair a voice, American, old and hoarse. “This is him?”
“Yeah, boss.”
“And the girl, when’s she expected?”
“They should have called us by now.”
“You might want to give her a call on loverboy’s cell phone and let her know just how impatient we’re getting, capisci?”
Shannon answered the phone on the first ring. Fortunately, the connection was good.
“Where the hell are you?” the American voice said harshly. “We been waiting too long... Well, you got a lot of driving to do yet. Do you know the area? ...Just a second.” One of the locals must have been called over, because the American then said, “You talk to her. I don’t know nothin’ about the roads around here.”
As the Scot gave Shannon directions, I realized that we must be somewhere in Argyll, probably reasonably close to Dunoon, because he mentioned Come By Chance and the road down along Loch Eck.
“...and partway down Loch Eck, there’s a restaurant on the left hand side of the road. You can’t miss it. When you arrive there, call us. You’ll get the final directions then.”
The American took the phone. “And no funny business, or your boyfriend won’t be playing no more concerts.”
They stuck the cell back in my shirt pocket, and I listened to the old man ask questions about what was going on. Things didn’t sound too good for Shannon’s Chameleon. They were going to make her suffer. Mastrocolle’s honour had to be avenged. Actually, he used the word vendetta.
It must have been at least two hours later when my cell rang again. I’d sat there the whole time, head still covered by that stinky bag, feeling woozy and terribly thirsty while they all ate and drank. I guess the condemned man doesn’t get a last meal in Mafia circles.
The Scot took the call. “Yeah, okay. Now listen carefully, lassie. I’m only saying this once. Here’s how you get to where we are.”
Now I knew pretty well exactly where we were. I wondered if this crew had any idea how close they were to Angus’s place.
“And remember: we have people watching your every move.”
Mastrocolle sent the two locals outside to bolster the forces already on guard duty. “Make sure there are no screw-ups. Any monkey business and this guy gets it. Don’t take any chances on this deal going bad!... What?... Yeah, okay. I’ll put him on.”
The cell was stuck under the hood. “Shannon? Be very careful!”
A short time later, I heard a car labouring up a driveway covered with gravel.
In the next few minutes, I’d find out whether we were all going to live or die.
Thirty-One
The drive continued north with Shannon in an increasingly anxious state. Struggle as she might, the playing field continued to tilt towards the Chameleon.
Actually, she had no idea what to even call the girl any more— other than that. The person sitting next to her now was no longer any more Maria Rota than Shannon was.
That had been the most stunning event yet. Maria had walked into that washroom cubicle as one person and walked out as someone who not only looked different, but was different in every way. Either she was the finest actor ever, or...
Shannon shuddered. To be stuck with a person who was at best mentally unstable was not a comforting thought—with lives hanging in the balance.
At the top of the next hour she had turned on the BBC news, discovering to her dismay that the kidnapping of Michael Quicksilver was the lead story. Facts were sparse, but it had been confirmed by police that he’d been taken shortly before five. Also mentioned was the fact that one of the other Neurotica members had been injured when he’d tried to stop the abduction.
Her anxiety ratcheted up to teeth-clenching levels, and she knew the Chameleon was fully aware of it.
As they were approaching Carlisle, just south of the Scottish border, the girl looked over and asked, “So do you have any ideas about what we’re going to do, Shannon? Because you are going to have to make that call pretty soon, and you’d better have a bloody good plan in place, or this is not going to end well.”
Shannon felt as if she was sliding down a steep incline, with nothing to grab on to. Ahead there was a cliff, and she knew damn well she was going to go over.
She bit her lip to keep from screaming. “Just drive the goddamn car and let me worry about what we’re going to do!”
“It’s obvious that you have no plan.”
“Shut up and let me think!” she shouted as she turned away and stared out into the night.
A few miles later, as
Welcome to Scotland signs flew past, Shannon knew she was beaten. There were just too many uncertainties to take into account, too many unknowns on which to stake Michael’s life— and quite likely her own.
As if reading her mind, the Chameleon said, “Ready to give in now, Shannon, and listen to my suggestions?”
Shannon gritted her teeth. “Sure. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”
Gia (Shannon had decided this name fit best if she had to call the girl anything) flashed a cocky smile. “Good decision.”
She did indeed have a plan, one that made Shannon’s head spin more than before. Every bit as audacious as she would have expected, it also might very well work. That’s why fifteen minutes later, Shannon was on her cell trying to raise DCI Campbell.
She somehow managed to cajole one of Campbell’s underlings into phoning his home to give him her cell number, only because the person she’d talked to remembered the “guv’nor” mentioning the Canadian ex-cop. From the lackey’s tone, Campbell’s comments had not been complimentary.
“It’s too bad we have to bother with him,” Gia observed while they waited for the call back. “He’s such a dry old stick.”
Was there anything this girl didn’t know? Shannon felt more inadequate than ever.
Thankfully, she only had to wait five minutes for Campbell to return her call.
“What do you have for me, lassie?” came the clipped voice Shannon found so irritating. “I don’t normally take calls when off duty.”
Because of her foul mood, Shannon snapped, “And I wouldn’t be wasting your time if this weren’t crucial! You’ve heard of Michael Quinn having been kidnapped?”
“Yes. I’m sure the people who have been assigned to the case will handle it adequately.”
The unmitigated gall of the man! “Look, I know who has him. They’ve contacted me.”
“Best give it to me, lassie,” the Scot said. “We’ll take it from there.”