by Mark Posey
She pointed out Buscaglia to Mike.
Mike shrugged. “I’m not supposed to know about it, remember?”
Alice pursed her lips. “Michael, there is no need to be churlish. You and I both know you are going to be there.”
“We do?”
“Quite right.”
“I thought you didn’t want me there.”
“Quite correct. I do not. But I also know that particular expectation is folly. There is no way you will agree to remain behind. So let us dispense with that and get on with it.”
Mike sat forward. “What’s the plan?”
“There is no plan aside from taking them out. His Holiness has people who can handle the clean-up. I just need to reach them in their rooms, probably at night. There cannot be any witnesses.”
“Right. So where do I come in?”
Alice looked at him as if he was an amusing little boy. “You do not come in. In this, Constable Rafferty is quite correct. You cannot be a party to the murder I will do this night. That is non-negotiable, Michael. I must do this myself.”
Mike looked like a chastised little boy, disappointed that he couldn’t do the thing he most wanted to do.
“I know it is difficult for you to hear, but I have been taking care of things like this on my own since before your grandfather was born. I shall be just fine, Michael.”
“Bob did say that you weren’t the kind of woman I was used to.”
“Did he?”
“He also said that, given your age, I should give you a wider berth than I usually give my girlfriends. That you saw the world differently from everyone else. I’m the one who has to adapt if we stay together.”
“I am not sure that is exactly correct.”
“Why not?”
“To ask you to change just because we are together seems an awful thing to do. You are who you are. I am who I am. We choose to spend our time together. No expectations.”
“None?”
“We already know the outcome of this relationship, Michael.
“We do?”
“Certainly. We are not getting married.”
“No?”
“I am a nun, Michael. Technically, I am married to God.”
“Right.”
“Best case scenario, I shall be at your funeral.”
“That’s pretty grim, Jacs.”
“It is neither grim nor cheerful. It is simply practical.”
“Huh.”
“All relationships end, Michael.” She cupped her hand to his cheek. “Either through separation or death.”
“Glad you’ve got it all worked out.”
“Take heart. Your funeral is years away. We could still spend the rest of your life enjoying each other’s company.”
Mike glared at her. “Or we could separate tomorrow, according to you.”
“Not according to me. That is how the world is. How it has always been and how it will continue to be. All we have is now.”
Mike crossed his arms.
“So, we need to discuss tonight’s reception,” Alice said.
* * * * *
Alice and Mike walked up the front steps of the Ritz-Carlton. They skirted the edges of the well-dressed crowd and scanned the area, watching for Buscaglia’s men. Alice’s veil and the charcoal Armani suit made her look as though she belonged with the crowd attending the Pope’s reception.
Mike’s suit and tie, although dressy for him, looked less than formal compared to everyone else.
At the entrance to the hotel, Mike badged his way past security. Alice flashed her Vatican passport. Once they were inside, they maintained their vigilance, especially in the area where the reception was being held.
Inside the opulent banquet room, they moved to where the Pope received visitors. Bob greeted them with a warm hug.
“Buscaglia and his men are on the twenty-ninth floor,” Bob whispered into Alice’s ear as he pressed a keycard into her hand. “All the arrangements have been made. Vincenzo will wait for you on twenty-eight.”
“Thank you, Your Holiness. I shall not let you down. Hopefully, I can take care of them all tonight.”
“We shall be here for three days.”
Alice turned away from the Pope. Mike waited behind her. Together, they scanned the room and the crowd. Two waiters, each carrying a tray of filled champagne flutes, walked toward them. Alice snatched two glasses off one of the trays and handed one to Mike.
“Are you sure we should have these? We’ll need to stay sharp for later.”
“We will blend in better if we hold these. We do not have to drink them.”
“Gotcha.”
Again, they scanned the crowd. Alice stiffened as a man in robes walked toward her out of the throng of people surrounding the Pope.
“Cardinal,” she said as he came close.
He was a small man, barely taller than Alice. His intense, beady eyed gaze bored into her. “Sister,” he said with a heavy Italian accent. He broke into a smile. “How good to see you.”
“And you, Cardinal.” Alice indicated Mike. “May I present Detective Michael Fredericks of the Philadelphia Police Department.”
The Cardinal stuck out his hand. Mike clasped it.
“Michael—Cardinal Giovanni Buscaglia.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “Cardinal.”
It seemed to Alice as though Mike barely stopped himself from yanking his hand out of Buscaglia’s grip.
“Very nice to meet you, Detective. I hope you enjoy the reception.” Buscaglia smiled at him and then turned to Alice. “Sister, we shall have to talk later, you and I.”
“I have no doubt we will be seeing each other, Cardinal.” Alice continued to scan the room. “We have important business to discuss.”
“Indeed, we do.” Buscaglia’s smile faded.
“In fact, I’ll be speaking with all of your men,” Alice added. “I trust they will be waiting.”
Buscaglia nodded slowly. “Forgive me, Sister. There is someone I must speak with. Excuse me.” He moved into the crowd and toward the door of the banquet room.
They watched him go. Even out of sight, they could tell where he was. The well-dressed crowd parted before him and he moved faster as he neared the doorway.
“What did you warn him for?” Mike asked.
“Warned or not, he knows exactly why I am here. His anxiety will be his undoing.” She sipped her champagne and turned away from the doors. “Let us enjoy this part of the evening, Michael. I shall go to work afterwards.”
* * * * *
The Ritz-Carlton was quiet and empty once the reception wound down. Its opulence was muted by the softer lighting used in the late hours of the evening.
Alice and Mike had waited at a table in the lounge just off the lobby for this low-traffic time. The fewer people around the better. Witnesses could not be tolerated and would only add to the body count.
Over the course of the evening, Alice had narrowed down which rooms on the twenty-ninth floor Buscaglia’s men were using. She didn’t think they would be just waiting for her, though. They’d be ready.
She checked the time. It was just before midnight. Alice put her handbag in her lap and pulled out the Tanfoglio.
Mike’s eyes went wide. “Are you crazy? Pulling that out in here? Someone will see.”
Alice scanned the lounge. They were the only table still occupied. The waitress and the bartender were down at the far end of the bar and the back of her chair blocked their view. “Who will see, Michael?”
She screwed the suppressor in place on the end of the Tanfoglio’s barrel and slipped it into her handbag. She looked up at Mike. “Remember, you are not to enter the room with me. Remain in the hallway and keep watch.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Can’t have me compromised.”
“Quite correct, Michael. If you feel you cannot remain in the hallway, then go home. I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own. You do not need to be there.”
Mike shrugged. “I want to
be there.”
“Very good. Let’s go.”
They stood and moved to the elevators. The lower lighting matched the late evening aura perfectly.
Alice pressed the up button and when the elevator arrived, she pressed the button for the twenty-eighth floor.
“I thought they were on twenty-nine,” Mike said.
Alice nodded. “Quite correct.”
When the doors opened on the twenty-eighth floor, a Vatican security man stood with his hands clasped together. The man was enormous. He wore a navy blazer over a black turtleneck sweater. His square jaw and close-cropped hair made him look even more foreboding. He pressed a finger to his earpiece and looked at them as they stepped off.
“Sister Jacobine, a moment please.” His Italian accent was not as heavy as Buscaglia’s or the Pope’s.
“What is it, Vincenzo?” Alice asked.
“Just getting confirmation.” Vincenzo pressed his fingers to the earpiece again. “Capsico.” He nodded quickly to Alice and stepped over to the stairwell door and pushed it open. “Fifteen minutes, then the surveillance cameras will be back online.”
Alice checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes may not be enough.”
He shrugged. “All we could get.”
“Very well.” Alice moved into the stairwell.
Mike moved to follow her. Vincenzo pressed a meaty hand into Michael’s chest. “Just Jacobine.”
“I’ll be back in short order, Michael.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Mike said.
“It always has been.” She rounded the corner on the stairs and moved out of his sight.
“C’mon, Jacs!” she heard him say, sotto voce.
She hated leaving him behind. She had hated stringing him along, but it was for his own good.
She moved silently up the stairs. The low lighting of the late evening did not extend to the stairwell. Bright light glared off the light grey paint of the concrete walls.
At the door to the twenty-ninth floor, she peered through the small glass window into the hallway.
Empty.
She eased the door open. The light in the hallway was dimmer than the stairwell. It took her eyes a second to adjust, then she slipped through the door. She reached into her handbag and lifted out the suppressed Tanfoglio. She set her handbag on the floor next to the stairwell door.
Room 2907 was her first destination. Two of Buscaglia’s enforcers had been scheduled by His Holiness for duty early in the morning. By now, they should be soundly asleep.
She kept the Tanfoglio down by her side as she trotted down the hallway. Unfortunately, room 2907 was at the far end of the floor. She kept her gaze on the window at the end of the hall. She’d see anyone who stepped into the hallway. Anyone who did step out of their room or off the elevator at the far end would have to be eliminated. She could leave no witnesses.
She slowed to a stop outside 2907 and listened for activity in the room. No sound issued. No television, or the volume was very low. Alice slipped the pass card the Pope had given her from the pocket of her pants and slid it quietly into the slot above the door handle.
This was the crucial part--getting into the room undetected. Hotel doors, even hotels so grand and opulent as the Ritz-Carlton, were notorious for making noise. The latches clacked loudly, especially as they closed. If there was something within reach just inside the door, she would use it to keep the door from latching when it swung closed.
The light for the lock glowed green. She pressed the handle down and eased the door inward, her gaze locked on where the flip-over latch would be. It was not engaged. She could still have gained entry if it had been, but it was a rather more involved operation.
She opened the door only wide enough to slip into the room. There were no lights on inside. She didn’t want the light from the hallway to alert the men in the beds. She spared a quick look at the men. Both seemed to be asleep.
She scanned the floor quickly. A pair of shoes sat just the other side of the bathroom opening. She stretched and snagged a shoe with her foot and dragged it to the door. She jammed the shoe between the door and the frame. No light from the hallway would betray her entrance and now the shoe was in place, no clack from the latch would give her away, either.
She brought the Tanfoglio up and eased deeper into the room. The first one to go would be the closest. The loud pop from the suppressor in the small space of the room would alert whichever one she did not shoot. Best to have that man farthest from the door.
As she stepped close to the first bed, the man in the second bed snorted and sat up with a jolt.
She pivoted and popped two shots off, hitting him in the chest with both. The shots slammed him down to the bed and off the far edge.
The man in the first bed jumped as the first shot went off. After the second, he jolted fully awake. His gaze went to the Tanfoglio in her hand, still pointed at the bed of his roommate.
His eyes went wide and he scrambled out of the bed as she pivoted toward him. He ducked to the floor on the far side of the mattress and scrambled to the end of the bed.
Alice moved to the end of the bed to cut him off.
He dashed for the door, wearing nothing but his underwear. He skidded to a stop and yanked the door open.
She popped off a shot but only hit him in the shoulder. His frenetic motion throwing off her aim.
The impact of the shot threw off his step and he stumbled out into the hallway, turning left.
Alice charged after him. She heard him running as she rushed out into the hallway.
He was already three doors down as she dropped to a knee and aimed. Two quick and precise shots, and he dropped to the hallway floor, dead.
Alice rose and heard a gasp behind her. She whirled, bringing the Tanfoglio to bear.
At the end of the hallway, a woman in a hotel uniform stood behind a room service cart, hands clasped to her mouth.
Alice sagged. Regret tinged her as she met the woman’s eyes. “Oh child...”
* * * * *
Alice slipped quietly through the door on the twenty-eighth floor. Mike and Vincenzo waited. As she put the Tanfoglio in her handbag, she looked up at Vincenzo.
He raised a brow at her.
Alice nodded. “Found two of them. The other three are not in their rooms. There are three bodies for the cleaners to deal with.”
Vincenzo nodded and turned away, his hand going to his earpiece.
Mike stepped forward. “If you only found two of them, how come there are three bodies to clean up?”
Alice looked up at him sadly. “A woman from room service entered the hallway just as I dealt with the second man.”
Mike’s jaw dropped. “And you killed her?”
Alice set her jaw. “I could not leave any witnesses, Michael. You knew that.”
Mike looked aghast. “Yeah, I knew that. Sure. But I never expected...” He furrowed his brow. “You killed an innocent woman?”
“It could not be helped,” Alice said. She pushed the button to call the elevator.
Mike stalked back and forth. Tension crept into his arms and he clenched and unclenched his fists.
As it was after midnight, the elevator was quick to arrive. It dinged as it came to a stop and the doors opened.
“We had better get on the elevator. Surveillance will be back online momentarily.” She put her hand on his upper arm, trying to shepherd him into the elevator.
Irritated, he threw her arm off and stalked into the elevator. She stepped in behind him and hit the button for the parkade below the hotel.
No witnesses.
He fumed silently all the way down to the parkade. Alice stood beside him. She could feel the waves of anger coming off him.
When the doors opened in the parkade they stepped off and she said, “Michael...”
He put his hand out to stop her. “Don’t,” he growled. “This is not what I signed up for.”
She pursed her lips. “You did not sign up for anything, Mich
ael. I told you from the start I could do this on my own. That you did not have to accompany me.”
“Well, now I wish I hadn’t, Jacs. This is not a side of you I’d ever hoped to see.”
“And what side is that, precisely?”
“The cold-blooded murderous side. I could arrest you right now, y’know.”
“Michael Fredericks, you know bloody well that arresting me would be a total waste of time.”
“It’s the least I could do for that woman you killed.”
“What in the name of all that is holy did you think I would be doing up there? You know what my role in the church is. Why, when faced with the actuality of it, are you now objecting to what I do?”
“You killed an innocent woman, Jacs!” he roared. “How can you live with that?”
“I have been living with far more than that for over five hundred years!”
“Yeah? Well, you may be able to live with it, but I can’t.”
“I’m afraid that you will have to, Michael. It’s already done.”
“No, it’s not done, Jacs! I’m done.”
He turned and stalked across the parking lot to his car. He did not look back before he got in. He started the car and the tires squealed as the vehicle rocketed out of the parking space.
Alice stared at the empty space. It always went this way whenever she tried to share her life with someone. She hated that it did. She always thought that maybe this time would be different.
It never was.
Michael would join the long line of disapproving former friends and lovers. She had hoped that with him being a policeman, he would be more...tolerant.
She checked her watch. It was almost twelve-thirty. The bar would still be open. She turned away from the now-empty parking stall and pressed the call button for the elevator. The doors opened immediately.
She went up to the lobby and from there into the lounge. She took a stool at the end of the bar and waited for the barman to serve her.
The barman strolled down after a couple of minutes with a scowl on his face. “Sister. What’ll it be?”
“Old Bushmill’s. Neat.”
He was clearly surprised at her order. He poured the drink, his gaze flitting from the glass to her. He smiled as he placed it in front of her. “Wanna run a tab?”