All He Saw Was the Girl (36 page)

    "Where
we going?" Sharon said.

    "It's
a surprise," Joey said. "For once just do what I ask and don't say
anything, okay?" Didn't mention Ray. What was the point? If he was still
at the hotel, and that was a good possibility, he might run into Sharon and
she'd have to deal with him. Jesus, why was Joey taking all the heat?

    He
walked up the Spanish Steps, moving along the eastern wall that curved all the
way to the top. On his right was an apartment building with an entrance on the
square below. Joey had checked it out, walked from top to bottom a couple times
earlier that afternoon and noticed the balcony of a second-floor apartment that
was only a couple feet from the wall. Christ he could jump to it. He felt his
phone vibrate in his pants pocket and took it out, heard Mazara say they were
ready, everybody in position. Joey looked up and saw McCabe standing at the
second balcony.

    3:52,
Psuz rested the barrel of an old bolt-action Beretta 501 on top of the metal
railing that went around the penthouse patio, seven floors up, looking down at
the Spanish Steps. Put the scope on Joey walking up, angled it to the right,
saw McCabe at the balcony. Adjusted the scope, put the crosshairs on McCabe's
back about seventy-five meters below him, adjusted again, closing on his head.
Psuz could take the shot, drop him, he would never know what happened. But Joey
said to wait, make sure he had the money, and also Angela.

    It
was Joey's idea to have him on the roof of the building. "Psuz, you really
a sniper?" Joey said to him. "Let's see how good you are."

    But
he also had an idea. After his time in the army he had worked for Italgas. He
went there, the main office in Rome, and took a uniform from the locker room.
First, he was thinking of going in the bell towers at Trinita dei Monti, but to
get up there he'd have to go through the convent next door and that would be
difficult. There were procedures to follow when dealing with the Catholic
Church. So instead he chose the apartment building across Via Sistina from the
Hassler Hotel.

    In
the uniform it was easy to enter with his tool bag, and ride the elevator to
the penthouse apartment, ring the buzzer, and when the man opened the door,
tell him there was gas leaking in the apartment and the occupants, for their
safety, must vacate immediately.

    3:57,
McCabe saw Joey coming up the steps toward him, breathing hard, gut bouncing
under a loose-fitting island shirt with hula dancers on it. "I'd say
you're the one in the wrong business."

    "We'll
see," Joey said. "We all get lucky once in a while. Don't we? I
wouldn't count on it happening again."

    "You
never know," McCabe said.

    "Where's
my cuz at?"

    McCabe
pointed to the balcony of the terrace restaurant just above them on the west
side of the steps. Angela was standing at the railing. Joey looked at her and
waved.

    "Where's
Chip?"

    "Right
up there," Joey nodded, indicating the top of the steps, the street level.
"Let's do it."

    They
started up, McCabe leading the way. When they got to the top, Joey glanced at
him and said, "I've got a surprise for you."

    McCabe
could see Mazara standing in front of the silver Opel, and Sisto standing at
the rear. Was he talking about them?

    Joey
said, "Look over there, " nodding at the roof of a yellow apartment
building rising above them on the right.

    He
saw someone on the rooftop.

    "Know
who that is? My little buddy Psuz, turns out he was a sniper in the Italian
army. You believe that?" Joey grinned, thinking he was back in control.
"Do anything even remotely stupid he's going to punch your ticket, put you
out of business. We're going to let you see Chipper, then I want you to hand me
the money and walk away, don't say another word."

    McCabe
moved closer to the car, saw Noto behind the wheel, watching him. Sisto popped
the trunk and he saw Chip, bound, gagged and curled up in the fetal position.
Chip looked up at him, tried to say something, but Sisto slammed the lid
closed. He noticed the little square in front of the Hassler was empty, the
taxis and Beverage/Gelati truck were gone.

    "I've
got a surprise for you too," McCabe said, eyeing Joey. He could see
Captain Ferarra and three of his men coming toward them from the left, moving
up the street.

    4:02,
Arturo was walking along Via Sistina flanked by Luciano and Gattuso. Next to
Gattuso was Borri, a giant at six feet four inches tall. They were coming up
next to the convent, the building that joined Trinita dei Monti. Traffic had
been stopped on Via Sistina and diverted down Via Gregoriana. The street was
deserted.

    McCabe
had phoned headquarters earlier that afternoon, and Luciano had reached him at
his apartment, calling as he was leaving to spend the afternoon with his wife,
Arturo trying to make up for the last time he had to cancel his plans, the day
they found McCabe's rental car. His wife Teresa was an understanding woman but
this was testing her patience.

    Luciano
explained what he knew. The same gang that kidnapped McCabe now had Chip
Tallenger. The ransom exchange was to take place today, 4:00 at the Spanish
Steps. The question Arturo had asked himself: where was McCabe, and if he was
in trouble, why did he wait so long to contact the police?

    He
could see the silver Opel sedan parked next to the balustrade at the top of the
Spanish Steps, and the men standing next to it. He could see four GIS moving
along Via Sistina, approaching from the opposite direction. And then McCabe
appeared coming up the steps, carrying a soccer bag, standing next to a bigger
heavier man. He saw the sniper on the rooftop, and was bringing the cell phone
to his mouth when he heard a rifle shot.

    "He
hands me the soccer bag shoot him," Joey had said to him. But McCabe did
not give the soccer bag to Joey, and Joey was standing close to him, so close
he did not have a clear shot. Psuz noticed something else. It was quiet now. No
traffic. No car had driven by on the street for some time. He aimed the scope
along Via Sistina and understood why. There were police coming, four from the
left and four from the right. He put the cross hairs of the scope on one of the
men in a suit jacket, running past the church, squeezed the trigger, heard the
crack of the rifle echo off the rooftop and saw him fall. He worked the bolt
and aimed for a second man, but he was moving, they all were, taking cover
behind the stairway that led to the church and he did not have another target.

    When
the firing started everyone scattered. McCabe popped the trunk and tried to
free Chip, but Noto put the Opel in gear, took a hard left, accelerating,
driving down the west side of the steps, picking up speed, front end bouncing,
trunk lid swinging up and down before slamming closed.

    Bullets
pinged off the obelisk in front of him. Another bullet ricocheted off the sidewalk
next to him. And then someone grabbed McCabe from behind and pulled him back
off his feet and brought him down behind the balustrade. McCabe turning now,
looking at him, dark hair, late thirties, a guy he'd never seen before in his
life, squatting next to him.

    "You
okay? Stay down. There's a sniper up there."

    That's
all he said. He was an American and had probably saved McCabe's life, but who
was he? The guy glanced up at Psuz on the rooftop and took off, crouching low,
moving along the balcony, and disappeared down the steps. The shooting
continued, Psuz firing at the police, and the police firing back.

    McCabe
looked through the balusters, watched the dark- haired guy run down. Below him
the Opel lost control, hit the stone railing on the second level, spun out and
crashed broadside into the eastern wall. McCabe could hear the whelp of sirens,
looked down, saw two carabinieri sedans enter Piazza de Spagna from opposite
sides, pulling up at the bottom of the Spanish Steps, more cops getting out of
the cars, moving through the scattering mass of panicked tourists. The shooting
had stopped.

    Mazara
was confused. He had seen Angela on the terrace, sitting at a table by herself,
sipping coffee. What was she doing? He ran there, hopped the entrance gate, and
saw her crouching at the wall, peeking over. All of the customers had gone in
the hotel, leaving their cappucini and espressos, their biscotti and cannoli on
the tables. There was no one around. He crouched next to her. "What are
you doing? Why are you here?" He reached for her hand and tried to pull
her up. "Come with me. We have to go." He could see the carabinieri
running down the steps, swarming the Opel, pulling Noto out of the vehicle.
"There is no time."

    She
was watching the action below, hardly paying attention to him.

    "It's
over," Angela said, glancing at him. "Go before they arrest
you."

    "What
about you?"

    “I’m
staying.”

    And
in that moment he understood, it became clear what had happened. "You and McCabe,
uh?"

    She
looked at him and nodded. He reached behind his back, gripped the Tanfoglio,
wanted to take it out and shoot her for betraying him, but he couldn't do it.
Two carabinieri sedans drove up Via Sistina and stopped twenty meters away. And
now Roberto had no choice but to go. He ran across the terrace and went over
the wall, hanging and dropping to the courtyard below.

    An
ambulance followed two police cars pulling up on the street above them, lights
flashing, sirens wailing, and a crowd had formed around the Opel, police
holding people back. Angela had come down from the top, put her arms around
him, hugged him and then stood close. Captain Ferrara opened the trunk. McCabe
could see Chip curled up inside. The EMS techs moved down the steps with a
gurney and lifted Chip onto it, untied the gag and freed his hands. His eyes
were closed and McCabe didn't know if he was alive or not. Then Chip's eyes
flickered open. He looked around and saw McCabe.

    '"Are
you afraid to die, Spartacus? When one man says no, I won't, Rome begins to
fear.'"

    "I
think he's going to make it," McCabe said to Angela.

    Joey
boosted himself up on the eastern wall, and jumped a couple feet to the
apartment balcony he’d seen earlier, going over the railing onto the patio and
into the apartment, door unlocked, no idea who lived there, no sign of anyone,
and moved down a dark hallway to the front door. He unlocked it and turned the
handle, opened the door and went out.

    He
took the stairs down two flights, opened the door and moved through the crowd
that had formed around Piazza de Spagna. He could see Sisto in the square,
hands cuffed behind his back, two cops pushing him in the back seat of a patrol
car. He walked past store fronts: Rucoline, Byron and Scalinata, all the way to
American Express. He looked back. No one was following him. There was a taxi
queue down the street. He went there, got in a cab and took it to the train
station. It was 4:47.

    Sharon
had spent the night with Joey at the Excelsior but something was different. He
had changed, or maybe she was finally seeing the real him. He seemed crude,
vulgar, not the suave, handsome guy she had fallen in love with. It was a big
disappointment after all the planning and anticipation, putting her life on
hold, flying to Rome to be with him. She was ready to give up her marriage,
what was left of it, her job and family to be with Joey. She had been that
sure, that confident.

    He
was supposed to meet her at the hotel, be there when she arrived, but he
wasn't, and he hadn't called till the next evening. She'd said, "You know
how long I've been waiting for you?"

    "I've
been tied up. Doing a job for my uncle," Joey had said.

    "What,
they don't have phones in Italy?"

    "Babe,
I'll make it up to you," Joey said. "Check out, come to the
Excelsior, this cool, classy hotel on Via Veneto, you'll love it."