Then Antonio Ascardi’s boat disappeared. All I saw ahead of me was the gray wall of rolling mist. I had lost him.
I shut down the throttle and turned off the engine, hoping to catch the sound of Ascardi’s motor to guide me. Nothing—only the lapping of waves on the boat. I must have sat there for several minutes. I saw no reason to do anything else.
The quiet was broken by the sound of a ringing cell phone, mine. I’d forgotten that I’d left it on after calling Fontana from the basilica rooftop. “Yeah,” I said. It was Greatrex.
“Well?” he sounded anxious.
“I’m fine,” I said, “but it’s over, and not in a good way.”
“What do you mean?”
I told him all that had happened.
“Are Aislinn and Patrick Jay all right?” I asked.
“Yeah. I did just as we discussed. I was close to Fontana’s table but out of sight. It got interesting after your shot. Blood everywhere, Fontana screaming his head off. The only calm person was Domenico. When he realized the cell phone was out of action, he grabbed Aislinn by the arm and led her to a side alley.”
“So, as we thought, Ascardi wanted her there for insurance in case something went wrong,” I said.
“Yep.”
“I’m assuming from your calm demeanor that you took care of Domenico and that Aislinn is safe,” I said.
“Well, yes and no. Don’t worry: Aislinn is fine and Domenico is having a long rest, tied to a mooring pole under a bridge.”
“But?”
“But it wasn’t me who took him out. Do you have any idea of the power behind the swing of a long wooden didgeridoo when swung by a very upset Australian?”
“Patrick Jay?”
“Indeed. When he saw the way Domenico manhandled Aislinn, he didn’t hesitate,” said my friend.
“That’s great,” I said, imagining the scene in my head. “But still, we’ve lost our man. There is no way to find him. I think I’d better just turn the boat around and go back and turn myself in to the authorities.”
“Bullshit,” said Greatrex.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, I’ve seen you do some pretty stupid things, but I’ve never seen you give up.”
Greatrex was right. Giving up had never been my way. Still, I just sat there, staring into the darkness.
“So, I have no idea where the hell Ascardi has gone. There is Lido, there are islands all over the place, or he could have doubled back to the mainland.” My voice sounded tired and empty. “Suggestions?”
The phone was silent.
“Who could possibly know where Ascardi’s base may be?” asked Greatrex eventually.
I said nothing, I had nothing.
“I’ll get onto the General,” said Greatrex. “We’ll see if he can source any ideas of a location that Ascardi is tied to in some way.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll head to Lido and make myself scarce until I hear from you—” I stopped mid-sentence. “Lido, the shed … I know a man who will know Ascardi’s place,” I felt hope rise in my gut. It was a welcome sensation. “He may not want to tell me, but he’ll know.”
“Nicholas, are you all right?” asked the big fella. “Nick …”
“We’ll talk,” I said. I reached down, restarted the engine, pushed down on the throttle, and headed, far more quickly than was safe, in the direction of Malamocco.
Chapter 34
“Cosa vuoi, what do you want?” said the huge man opposite me, his tone agitated and aggressive.
We were standing in the kitchen of the small farm cottage on Lido. I had burst through the door and surprised him while he was preparing his evening meal. Half-sliced vegetables were scattered across the table, and water bubbled on the primitive stove. The knife in his hand and the boiling water on the stove were potential weapons, but I still felt confident, if only because I was pointing Jasper De Vries’ Sig Sauer directly at the big man’s chest.
“I need information, quickly,” I said. “Put the knife on the table and sit down over there.” I motioned with the gun to a chair at the end of the large kitchen table, away from the knife and the stove.
The giant sat down.
“Why should I tell you anything? The last thing you did to me was smash me unconscious when I untied you. Go to hell, cretino!”
The big man leaned forward, looking as though he was going to stand up.
“Just after you did the same thing to me. Now sit. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will. Lives are at stake.”
The man in front of me stared straight into my eyes, as if he was making his mind up. He scratched his beard, tilted his head to one side and then announced, “I do not trust you.”
I didn’t blame him.
“And I don’t trust you,” I replied.
A moment of silence.
“Look, I’m sorry about what happened before,” I said. “There was no choice. I meant you no harm, but I couldn’t let you contact Norbert Fontana.”
After docking the boat in a small canal at Malamocco, I’d spent the fifteen-minute ride here on a stolen bicycle thinking about how to approach this meeting. Deception had worked when we’d met, less than forty-eight hours ago, but honesty was now my best chance. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, but you need to know I’m not the bad guy in all of this.”
“I will give you two minutes to state your case. After that, gun or no gun, I will upend this table and deal with you.”
I could tell he meant what he said, so I explained everything. Ascardi, Fontana, the explosion in Paris, the nuclear power station in Scotland, the assassination of the British chancellor, the murders in Füssen, and the shooting in the Piazza San Marco. I left nothing out.
The big man sat in silence, but the kitchen table was still on its legs.
Again, his head tilted, and he stared straight into my eyes. Judgment day. “That’s quite a story. I suppose it may even be true.” The big man paused. Then he said, “I never liked Fontana. When he came here and found me tied up the way you had left me, he was angry, more than angry, enraged. He didn’t give a shit about me. My dog wouldn’t stop barking at him, so he kicked the dog, hard.”
I could see the anger flaming in the giant’s eyes.
“The dog is still at the vet, but he will be all right. I don’t trust people who are needlessly violent toward animals. You will think that stupid. Whatever …”
I sat silently. If I made any platitudes, this man would see right through them.
The giant seemed to be talking to himself now, as if I wasn’t there. “I suppose you did show some concern, some humanity—the water and all that.”
More silence.
“All right, I will take the risk and trust my gut.” The giant reached out his hand, “I am Giuseppe Santoro. American, you can call me Joe.”
I stood up, feeling the relief coursing through my veins. I put the gun down on the table between us and offered him my hand. “Nicholas Sharp.”
“Now, Nicholas Sharp, you think I know where Fontana and his boss, this Antonio Ascardi, have their hideout?”
The term “hideout” was a little too Wild West for me, but all I could say was, “Yes, I’m hoping you do.”
Joe Santoro then offered a wry smirk, the mistrust in his eyes had vanished. “Well, you’re in luck, my new friend. I know exactly where your Signor Ascardi will be, but you are not going to like it.”
“What do you know about the Black Plague?” asked Santoro. He was making us both a strong coffee. I was acutely aware of time pressing down on me, but I couldn’t push him. I knew Ascardi would react badly to Fontana’s shooting. With all his resources, both technological and financial, he would have a plan B. I had to get to him quickly, but any competent marine gathers intelligence before acting.
Besides, I needed the coffee.
“I know the plague wiped out huge parts of the population of Europe, including Italy,” I replied.
“Well, in this area everyon
e who had the plague or was even suspected of having the plague was shipped off to Poveglia Island.”
“Poveglia?”
“It’s about half a mile that way,” said Joe Santoro, gesturing with his thumb over his right shoulder.
“That’s where you believe Ascardi has some sort of base?”
“I know it. I know it because I have seen Fontana and his men head directly to the island from the shore near the shed where they store their equipment.”
“Tell me about the island,” I asked. “I presume you’ve been there?”
Joe’s laugh was hearty but brief. Then his face grew taut, his expression serious. “Very few locals have been to Poveglia,” he said.
“Why? It’s so close.”
“There is a lot more to the island’s troubled story,” continued the giant. “As well as a plague graveyard, the place was also an insane asylum. It is rumored that doctors performed illegal lobotomies, experimenting on and torturing patients. They say sometimes you can still hear their screams at night.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. “This sounds like a scene out of a B-grade horror movie,” I said. “Surely, no one takes it seriously.”
Joe Santoro’s face seemed strained. He brought a huge hand to his jaw and rubbed it, as if wiping away the tension. His eyes became focused and intense.
“Nicholas, I can see why you would be skeptical, but you must trust me. What I say is true. Over 150,000 souls have died on that godforsaken island. They say the soil is fifty percent human remains. Poveglia is the most haunted island in Europe. It is illegal to even set foot on it. Only a fool would try.”
I was taken aback by the conviction in my new friend’s voice.
“Who owns the island?” I asked.
“A few years ago, the government sold it off to pay down debt. It has changed hands a couple of times. Once they’ve been to the island, no new owner wants to hold onto it.”
I sat back in my chair and sipped the much-needed coffee. It was smooth but with an unexpectedly raw bite. I waited, hoping Joe Santoro would laugh and tell me this was all a joke at my expense. But he didn’t.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. What better location for Antonio Ascardi than an island protected by a sinister history. It was the best security available … fear.
“I need to go there,” I said. “I need to go to Poveglia.”
Santoro was silent. He was a man who thought before he spoke. His face etched with concentration, I could tell he was making up his mind about something.
Eventually: “Hell,” he said, “I will take you. We will go in my rowboat. A quiet approach. I’m not having you get lost in that mist.”
“I can go alone,” I said.
“From what you have told me about these people, it would be foolish to go alone. I will come,” he responded.
I thought of Greatrex, but he wouldn’t get here in time.
Then the giant surprised me. “If I have inadvertently helped them, then I need to help you take them down.”
I nodded.
“Besides,” Santoro continued, “for the last twenty-four hours, ever since Fontana paid his last visit here along with that brute of an offsider and the girl, I have been trying to figure out a way to make him pay for injuring my dog. Perhaps he will be there, if he is out of hospital,” the giant laughed.
I didn’t laugh. “Girl, what girl?” I asked.
“Didn’t I mention that? Yes, they had a girl with them. I hadn’t seen her before. She was actually quite stunning, you wouldn’t forget her. They took her to the island with them.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Of course. As I said, she was the type you would remember. Long dark hair, a warm, sensuous face, but more than anything I remember her eyes. They were a deep, deep green. They were eyes that a man could get lost in.”
Chapter 35
The mist hung low over the water. We couldn’t see ten feet ahead of the bow. Joe Santoro was rowing in quiet, powerful strokes. I sat at the stern of the small boat, the passenger. Almost all sound was muffled by the thick fog. We could have been in the middle of the Atlantic.
“I hope you know where you’re going,” I said.
“You get to know your way in the mist,” Joe responded. “Keep the waves at the same angle as they hit the boat and you’re basically going in a straight line. We’re headed directly for the island.”
I was glad Joe had insisted on coming. I could have rowed around in this fog all night and gotten nowhere.
“How long till we get there?” I asked.
“About ten minutes.”
I tried to focus on the task ahead. There was no certainty here about anything. Joe’s description of the girl he had seen had only added more confusion. I tried to put it out of my mind.
Quietly, we slipped through the fog. Symbolic.
A few minutes later a shadow started to loom out of the misty darkness ahead of us. I could just make out the shapes of a low tree line, a long building, and then a tower. Their gradual revelation though the surrounding murkiness added mystery to the image. As we drew in closer, an even more foreboding sight was given form by the neglected appearance of the buildings, half fallen walls and whole sections swamped by vines from the surrounding bushland.
“There’s a canal that runs between the two main sections of the island,” said Joe. “We’ll put in there, on the eastern side, furthest from the buildings. Do you expect any sort of guard?”
“There’s a strong chance,” I said. “Keep your eyes open.”
We followed the island’s misted silhouette to the east, low trees and thick scrub looming in the darkness. Joe maneuvered us into the canal, and the boat bumped against a stone bank that appeared from nowhere. We’d arrived.
I put a hand to my lips, motioning for Joe to be silent. The two of us sat there quietly, listening to a soundscape of rustling bushes, the unnervingly low-pitched whistle of a developing breeze, and waves pummeling the bank. Joe Santoro’s stories of mass death and screams in the night hadn’t spooked me, but I was now entering a zone beyond exhaustion. As I stumbled out of the boat onto the canal bank, I began questioning my ability to trust my senses. Was that crying voices I heard in the wind? Could I see the shadows of gaunt, skull-like faces staring back at us from the undergrowth? Nicholas Sharp, needing to get a grip.
Joe climbed up after me. He tied the boat to a large rock, and we both stood on the bank waiting, listening.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out: Greatrex.
“Nicholas, are you all right?”
“As safe as can be expected,” I whispered, not wanting to advertise our presence.
“I have news,” said my friend. “The General did some digging. It appears he’s got some very thorough researchers at his disposal.”
“Go on.”
“Well, they searched a litany of shell companies for any real estate linked to Ascardi. What they found was well hidden, but I think we’ve struck gold.”
Greatrex paused, as though expecting a reaction. I just listened.
“It appears,” he continued, “that Antonio Ascardi recently bought—”
“Poveglia Island,” I interrupted.
“… How?”
“I’m standing on it.” Nicholas Sharp, smart-ass.
“Hmph.”
I looked up. Joe Santoro had moved along the water’s edge, pointing with his flashlight to indicate he’d explore inland. He shone his beam over a narrow opening in the bushes and he slipped out of view. I let him go.
“Nicholas, there’s more,” said Greatrex.
“Okay, what have you got?” I asked.
“As you suggested, we’ve been looking for connections between Ascardi and the groups claiming those attacks. We found them: URLs connected to them, and money transfers to each group, all in Bitcoin and almost untraceable.”
“Then we’ve got the how but not the why,” I said.
“Yeah,
but that’s not all,” replied Greatrex. The call was starting to fade a bit. Santoro had told me reception was bad on the island. I could only just make out what Greatrex was saying. “It appears that Ascardi also has URL links and funding arrangements with a host of other radical groups. A heap of them, right across the world.”
“That can’t be good,” I said.
“No, not at all, especially when you factor in that, according to the General’s people, traffic has heated up considerably between Ascardi and many of these groups over the last ninety minutes.”
“That’s worrying,” I said.
“Nick, the General believes Ascardi’s next move is going to be decisive, perhaps even catastrophic.”
“Just as well someone’s on the job,” I said, feigning confidence I didn’t feel. “Now, Jack, listen carefully, this is what I want you to do—”
The line died.
Nothing else for it, we were on our own—best keep moving. I made my way along the water’s edge and turned left along the path I’d seen Joe take.
I quietly called the giant’s name. No reply, just the unnerving low growl of the wind.
I walked along a little further down the gloomy track. “Joe, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
A moment later my heel caught something solid, the light ping of the sound suggesting it was metallic. I knelt down and shone my flashlight’s beam on the object. Joe’s own light was lying smashed and half buried in the ground. I flicked my beam off, welcoming the darkness.
Joe Santoro had just disappeared.
I left what there was of a path and started moving through the undergrowth, thinking the cover would make my detection more difficult. In the distance, the tower we had seen from the boat gradually appeared as a shadow through the mist. Using the top of the tower as a marker, I made my way toward it. Another lower building to the right of the tower appeared a couple of minutes later. I waited under the cover of the edge of the bushes, gazing fixedly at the buildings.
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