by Jill Meengs
“You said the police may be corrupt, and couldn’t be trusted.”
“Yes, but in order for them to get to you through the police, it will take time. When you are with the police, tell them nothing except that you need to speak with an Italian Guardia di Finanza named Marcello Molinari immediately. You seeking him out will appeal to him. I don’t know what his role in this whole thing is exactly, but I know how he feels about you. He will do whatever he can to help you.”
Not happy with his instructions, I glared at the ground.
He gently placed his fingertips under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “Blame everything on me. You’ll have to be good to convince them.”
“Convince them of what, exactly?”
“That you’re a victim. That you know nothing other than that you’re thankful that you got out alive. Right now you are probably just a person of interest, but you need a believable story. You will explain that you don’t know my name or anything about me. You were scared out of your mind the entire time you were with me. You’ve no idea why I took you. All you know is that you were forced to go with me. Keep it short and simple. The less you say, the less you have to prove.”
“No one will believe me.”
“Yes they will. People believe things because they are either afraid it’s the truth or because they want it to be the truth. In this instance, they will want to believe you, especially Marcello. Having him on your side will be very helpful.”
“Why would he want to help me after everything he’s seen?”
“He’ll want to believe you because of what he’s seen. He saw you run to get on a train after I was already on it with your best friend. When he confronted us in Barcelona, you told him he had to stop because he didn’t understand. That can be interpreted a million different ways. For all he knows, I forced you to go with me, using Anna or other threats against you.” Chase was talking quickly now. “Most importantly, Marcello will believe you because he desperately wants to. If you are innocent, he has a chance.”
My brain was humming with information as well as denial. Recognizing that I did not like what he was telling me, his face softened as he offered another option.
“If you don’t want to go to the police right away, then you need to get in touch with Anna and Max. You should be able to contact Max via this secure email account, [email protected]. I know you won’t forget it.”
Involuntarily, my head snapped up as he kept talking.
“Max should be able to get you out of Spain. He can also help the two of you get your stories straight before you go to the police with Anna. With his coaching, and with Anna corroborating your story, they’ll have every reason to believe you.”
“Alright, I got it. I won’t need it, but I got it,” I said reluctantly.
Suddenly dropping his cool and calculated demeanor, he pressed his forehead to mine. At that moment it was more intimate than an embrace or a kiss.
Leaning back he spoke. “Your safety is the most important thing to me.”
I forced a shaky smile.
“Even if I can’t get to you by noon tomorrow, I’ll find you. Now that I have you, I won’t lose you.” He went from ardent to severe in an instant.
I took a deep breath. Adrenaline, already trickling through my veins, flooded my body. I felt myself sharpen acutely, both mentally and physically, as every part of me came together. There would be no uncertainty. No hesitation. I would not falter.
“Let’s do this,” I said.
His mouth twisted in a confident smile. He had switched back into professional mode again. Together, we headed along the back of the cathedral and then crossed the street that ran perpendicular to it in silence. There was no one around. He turned right at the first opportunity so we were now heading in the direction of the cafe with one block between us and the open area around the cathedral.
We were moving quickly, so it only took a few minutes to reach the road that separated the front of the cafe from the front of the cathedral. We crossed it and Chase led us down two more blocks before turning right so we could circle back behind the café. At the entrance to the alley directly behind our target, he motioned for me to get completely behind him before he slunk to the corner. Seconds passed by with agonizing slowness as we waited. Just when I thought I couldn’t wait any longer, he squeezed my hand. It was time.
He stepped into the narrow alley behind our objective. I followed him closely. There were no signs of any human presence in the cafe. Sticking close to the wall, we approached the service door, which he scrutinized closely. From his pocket, he pulled out a small multi-tool to use on the lock. It wasn’t long before there was a telltale click. We were in.
The tool in his hand was replaced by his gun as he paused in the open doorway to listen before slipping inside. I trailed him, closing the door behind me. Chase stealthily made his way down the hallway with his gun ready. I thought about bringing out my weapon, then decided against it.
Whenever he passed a door, Chase would pause in front of it to listen briefly. I knew he hadn’t heard anything when he would move onto the next one. I didn’t hear anything either. In fact, the place was eerily quiet, which raked hotly on my nerves. At the end of the hallway was a set of stairs, which Chase started climbing. His tread was soundless. I followed almost as quietly.
The whole place smelled of food and alcohol from the cafe. Beneath those odors lingered a slightly musty smell that suggested the place was long overdue for a thorough cleaning. There was almost no light inside, which made it more nerve-racking as we moved deeper into the building.
Arriving at the top floor without incident, Chase ghosted to the end of the corridor. In front of the door to the corner room, he listened for a moment before waving me forward. I was halfway down the hallway when he held up his hand to stop me. He motioned for me to stand against the wall.
I did as instructed, while Chase tested the door handle. When it didn’t move, he picked it with the same multi-tool he had used earlier. He positioned himself with his gun ready. With one last look at me, he swung the door open, gliding through it silently.
Unable to stand still, I inched closer to the door. Moments later, Chase emerged, motioning me to his side.
“Clear,” he whispered, heading back in with me.
The room was furnished with two sofas, some chairs, a television, lamps and a desk in the corner by the window. The desk had an open laptop on it. Some boxes and files were scattered around it. The screen on the laptop was on, providing the only light in the room.
Taking a flash drive from his pocket, Chase inserted it into the computer then started tapping away at the keyboard. The screen was password-protected, but that didn’t deter him as he continued to type quickly.
Not able to help him with the computer, I started to shuffle through the file folders on the desk. The top ones held maps and pictures of buildings. Nothing catching my eye, I reached for a thick file near the bottom of the stack.
Angling the folder on the desk so that the weak light from the computer screen would provide as much help as possible, I flipped it open. What I saw made my blood run cold.
The first thing in the folder was an 8-by-10 inch color photo of me, smiling for the camera.
CHAPTER 16
IT TOOK a full five seconds for me to realize it was the photo from my university student ID card. Not only was I completely staggered that the file contained this particular picture, I was shaken by the fact that someone had the ability to obtain it.
Bile churned at the base of my throat. Part of me didn’t want to look at the rest of the file, but I couldn’t stop myself. I put the photo of my smiling face down and picked up the next paper. It listed my flight itinerary from the USA to France. Behind that was a picture of Anna with a paragraph describing who she was. Another sheet explained the details of our Eurail passes. It also listed places we might visit. The words started to swim on the page in front of me. A rushing sound filled my ears as my skin sta
rted to feel hot and tingly.
I fought to focus objectively on the material in front of me. Something triggered in my memory. I shuffled back through the files on the desk until I found the first folder with the maps and pictures of the landmarks. Looking closely at the top one, I saw that it was a map of Paris with several locations marked; the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Champs Elysees, and Versailles. They were all places I had been on this trip and they were all marked in the order I had visited them.
Behind the map of Paris were photos of the highlighted landmarks. In the photo of Notre Dame, I could clearly see myself and Anna. The next photo was of me fiddling with my camera at the Arc de Triomphe. The following one showed Anna and me approaching the main gates at Versailles. The pictures were a very high resolution. I could tell they had been taken by someone that had been watching us from nearby with a professional-quality camera.
Dropping that stack, I picked up a map of Rome. It also had photos attached to it. I went through them like they were on fire. Some were of Anna and me while others were just of me. It was obvious that I had been observed closely throughout the entire trip.
I continued going through the photos until I came to one of the Colosseum. There were a few of me looking up at the monument, but none of the altercation with Spiky. The photos resumed with the dinner date by the river. I’d been right; we were being watched that night. They also had pictures of the Italians dropping us off at the train station in the morning.
Even though I had known people had been following me and observing me, it was a whole different thing to see the physical evidence of it. Dropping the stack of Rome pictures, I picked up the next batch. The one on top was taken in Monterosso. There were photos of us arriving in the village, entering the hotel room, walking on the beach—almost everywhere.
While there were lots of pictures of me, there weren’t any of Chase. They had either missed him completely, or he was even better at his profession than I had imagined. My instinct told me it was the latter.
The smaller files exhausted, I returned to the thick folder that held my university photo. I opened it thinking that nothing could be more horrifying than what I had already seen.
I was wrong.
On an innocuous sheet of white paper, every aspect of my life was laid out in minute detail. My full legal name along with my address and an alarmingly accurate physical description were at the top. The name of my school, my major, classes I had taken, my schedule for the next term, my advisor’s name, and my GPA were all listed. The names of friends and my extracurricular activities were inventoried. The second page described where I grew up, my parents’ address, my high school classes, grades, and accomplishments. Listed, too, were things I liked and disliked. The information didn’t seem to stop, and it was never wrong.
How could someone get so much detailed information on me? More importantly, why did they want it?
Next was another stack of photos. They showed me playing high school sports, on summer trips with my family, and with my friends. I hadn’t just been watched on this trip, I had been watched for years.
The sick feeling in my stomach was starting to be replaced with something else—anger. I had never felt so violated. Who were these people and what gave them the right to do this to me?
“Did you see all this?” My voice sounded too calm for all the things I was feeling.
“Yes.” He was still transfixed by the computer.
Glancing at the screen, I realized that he had gotten past the password protection. He was now rapidly going through files while he copied it all to his flash drive.
“How’d you do that?” I demanded.
“There is decryption software on the flash drive,” he mumbled as he continued to navigate through computer files.
I stared down at the pictures I held with a white knuckled grip.
“There’s something you should see, but I don’t want you to get upset,” he cautioned.
“What could upset me more than finding a complete dossier on myself in a random fortified apartment in Spain?” My tone reflected the wrath that was steadily escalating inside me.
He spun the computer so the screen was facing me. It was the family photo my mom had taken last Christmas. He tapped a key and the next photo was of my parents’ home. Another keystroke displayed a map with the location of their house circled. The next page listed the names of my family, including descriptions and ages. A final keystroke revealed a picture of Carter outside of his apartment in Palo Alto. The date stamp was the day before.
The rising fury I felt instantly flared to rage. They were watching my family right now? The fact that my family was in danger flipped a switch inside me. All the anger, fear, and dread disappeared into the vault with all the other emotions I couldn’t let interfere right now. I felt a complete calm wash over me. In that moment, I made a finite decision.
They were not going to get away with this.
Chase turned the screen back to face him, fingers flying over the keys. He removed the flash drive and slipped it back into his pocket.
“This is interesting,” Chase muttered like he hadn’t heard me. “These are field notes.”
“Field notes?”
“Notes from a reconnaissance mission summing up the operative’s findings. They detail what was observed during the mission, and suggestions about the subject.”
“Those field notes are about me, aren’t they?” I said dispassionately.
“Yes,” he answered. “There are several things I find disturbing about this.”
“Really? Only several?”
Ignoring my sardonic remark, he continued. “There at least three different sets of field notes from roughly the same time period from three different people. Sometimes their observations overlap, but they definitely don’t refer to each other.” He flicked a look at me to see if I understood what he was saying.
“You mean they were watching me at the same time, but not together?”
“Not only were they working independently of each other, they appear to have no knowledge that anyone else had been given the same assignment.”
“That seems redundant,” I said. “Unless, whoever sent them was cross referencing the data for better accuracy.” My mind was evaluating the whole situation now with no sentiment. Not only did it feel good, it felt right to be able to be so analytical about it.
“That’s what I would do.” Chase didn’t pause in his scrolling.
I felt like there was more that he wanted to say.
“There is something you’re not telling me.”
“These are the type of notes that a spotter would take.”
I didn’t flinch. “What do the notes say about me exactly?”
The question was only halfway out when Chase spun to face the door, raising his gun.
“They say all sorts of fascinating things.” A suave, thickly accented voice came from the entryway.
I spun toward the door, instinctively crouching down into a defensive position. Dropping to his knee, Chase squeezed off several rounds. There was an answering shot that missed us both.
“I wouldn’t try anything, my boy, unless you want me to shoot her.”
The voice was coming from a shadowy figure standing just inside the room. The speaker took a step to the right so the dim lighting from the hallway allowed me to see his features. He was a very fit older gentleman dressed in a well-cut suit. His thick, steel-gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed. His gray eyes were currently locked on Chase. In his hand was a gun pointed directly at me, which was why Chase hadn’t fired again.
The man smiled arrogantly as he moved closer. I estimated he was in his late fifties. He was approximately my height, moved with assertiveness, and held the weapon as though he knew how to use it.
“Clearly you cannot shoot me before I shoot her, so I suggest you put it down.” The accent was Eastern European but his English was excellent.
Hesitant to give up his weapon, Chase appeared to be weig
hing his options. Not finding a suitable alternative, he slowly crouched and placed the pistol on the ground, his eyes never leaving the man. Then he stood with his empty hands at his sides.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name, otherwise I would greet you properly,” the man said.
Chase remained silent.
“I don’t need to know your name to kill you.”
The tension in the room was electric.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“I’m the person who has been so desperate to meet you. You’ve given me quite a bit of trouble.” His eyes flicked down the length of my body before resting on my face.
His visual examination made me feel sullied. He looked at me like I was something to possess. “What do you want from me?”
Next to me, Chase shifted his weight, almost imperceptibly. As subtle as his movement had been, it didn’t go unnoticed. The man swung the weapon so it was pointed at Chase now instead of me.
“Let’s not get all heroic. I believe you’ve done quite enough of that,” the man chastised Chase. “There is only one way out of this room for her and that’s with me. You behave or things will get messy.”
Chase visibly relaxed his tensed muscles.
“That’s better.”
I was intensely aware of the gun tucked in the back of my pants under my shirt. Despite the fact it was on my body, I had no idea how to get to it quickly enough to shoot this guy before he shot one of us.
“What now?” Chase asked.
“The young lady asked me several questions. I was considering whether or not to answer them.”
It suddenly occurred to me that he wasn’t taking time to consider answering my questions. He was waiting for back-up.
“No need to answer the first one. I know who you are…Baron.” Chase gave the title an inflection that was respectful and disgusted at the same time.
“Really, how is that?”
“Let’s just say your reputation precedes you.”