Havoc (18 page)

“You?” sneered Captain Moretti. “A foreigner on vacation? You think you could do a better job than my detectives?”

“No, sir,” said Alton. “What I meant to say was, if I can help do some of the easy work…you know, looking through databases to learn more about Crowe and Wu…so your men can do the important work, I’d be happy to help.”

“Well, we can always use help with the dirty work. I think that will be good, no, Rossi?”

“Yes, sir—is good,” replied the inspector. “I was gonna ask Sergeant Lama to help me, but maybe is better if Mr. Blackwell and Agent Wilson help.”

“Why is that?” asked Mallory.

“‘Cause Lama is
tonto
—stupid,” snorted Captain Moretti.

“I think maybe he is smarter than he acts,” said Rossi, “but he is a little lazy. He doesn’t like to work so much. In any case, we are happy to receive your help.”

“We’re happy to give it,” said Alton, “Having been targeted twice already, our minds won’t be at ease until the perps are behind bars.”

“I understand,” said Rossi. “Mr. Blackwell, what information do you and Agent Wilson need to do your investigations?”

“I can get started with their passport numbers. I’ll call you if I need more information…and to share anything I discover, of course.”

“Okay. I will text their numbers to you in a few minutes. Are you going to work from Florence?”

Alton looked at Mallory. “We hadn’t discussed it, to be honest. Considering the fact that Crowe tracked down our specific tour, we have to assume he may have tracked down our hotel as well. I think it’d be safer to return to Rome—at least until we nail Crowe.”

Mallory nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” said Rossi. “We will be in touch.”

Alton ended the call. He rose, stretched his back, and took a seat on the bed.

“Alton,” said Mallory, “it’s admirable you want to help Rossi and Moretti with this case, but what about our vacation?”

“I don’t think we’re going to have one—not a safe one, at least—until we track down Crowe and maybe the fourth guy who was in the Colosseum when Duncan was killed. Until now, we’ve been trying to enjoy ourselves on this trip, but the environment has become too dangerous to keep pursuing that approach. It’s time to devote ourselves full-time to finding Crowe—and Feng Wu, if we’re lucky.”

“You’re right,” said Mallory. “I just hate we have to spend our vacation time doing this. I know how much this trip meant to you.”

“I hate it, too. But I’d hate it even more if something happened to you because I was careless.”

“Or you, too,” said Mallory. “Hopefully we can find Crowe while we still have a few days left.”

“That’s right. And you know…as long as I’m with you, I’m always on vacation, in a way—in a better place in my life than I ever thought I’d be.”

Mallory walked over and sat beside him on the bed. “And I love being with you, Sweetie.” She grinned. “But considering the cases we’ve worked, sometimes being together feels more like a safari than a vacation—you know, like the excitement never seems to end.”

Mallory giggled, but Alton cringed inwardly. Why wouldn’t she prefer another man—Tom, perhaps?—to himself, who seemed to always steer her into the path of danger? The wonder was that she had ever chosen Alton in the first place.

“What is it?” asked Mallory. “You were far away just now.”

“Sorry, I’m back,” he replied with the best smile he could force. “I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t have to carry this on your shoulders alone, you know. I am an FBI agent. I fully intend on working this investigation with you.”

“I was counting on that. This research needs to be a team effort.”

“Team effort, huh?” said Mallory, leaning her head on his shoulder. “That’s my favorite kind.”

After checking out of their hotel, Alton and Mallory cruised down the Autostrada del Sole on their way back to Rome.

Italian hills and the occasional cottage rolled by, lulling Alton into a state of contemplation. It seemed as though whenever he thought the events of this trip couldn’t get any crazier, his suppositions were confounded with a new level of insanity. He could only hope things would calm down from here.

CHAPTER 47

Ernesto Vega took a sip of black coffee and stared at his laptop’s screen. According to the e-mail Gantt had sent before retiring for the night, Wu had still not activated Duncan Wells’ cellphone again. On a more encouraging note, however, Wu had been spotted on the hotel security cameras returning to his room.

Vega contemplated storming Wu in the room as the man slept. Surely the phone had to be in the room somewhere as long as Wu was there.

But this approach contained a flaw. Vega had just become aware of other operatives conducting the same investigation—looking into Duncan’s murder and, presumably, searching for the man’s phone. Who were these operatives, and what were their intentions? Were they other Vidulum employees in possession of the remaining Silverstar files, hoping to sell them to Cúnchú? Until Vega could be assured of these new players’ motives, he couldn’t move against Wu. If he took down Wu and recovered the files now, he would leave these other potential sellers at large, ready to reach out to Cúnchú to secure a new agreement. Of course, he couldn’t let Wu leave Italy with Wells’ phone, but Vega hoped to first determine the motives of the other operatives before moving against Wu. Therefore, while Vega kept a close eye on Wu, he waited to confront him.

Vega resisted the urge to call Gantt. His colleague and mentor had already been awake nearly twenty-four hours and needed rest. Rather than calling, Vega replied to Gantt’s e-mail message: “Have discovered other operatives investigating Wells’ murder. One is originally from New York City and now reported living in Seattle. Have no intel on other operative except that he resides in California. Will send details as I learn them.”

After clicking the “send” button, Vega considered his own European contact, who preferred to be addressed by the moniker of “Raven.” The man was a loose cannon, with his own style for getting things done. But he achieved results—most of the time. On this investigation, however, Raven’s results had been deficient. Hoping his associate had enjoyed a better run of luck recently, Vega sent him a text: “Need status update on your efforts asap.”

Now to wait—again.

Vega turned his attention back to researching the other operatives, hoping to learn their allegiances, their background, their goals. In acquiring this information, Vega could anticipate their next move and, if necessary, wait in ambush. In this chess match, the winner was the person who rigged the game. And Vega had no intention of losing.

CHAPTER 48

At Rome’s
Polizia di Stato
office, Sergeant Orso Lama looked up as Inspector Rossi finished a call.

“You’re already busy this morning, aren’t you?” asked the portly sergeant.

“Yeah.” replied Rossi. “Tell me about it.”

“Anything new going on?”

“Not really. Some tourists involved with a murder case are coming back into town to help research the suspects.”

“Those are nice tourists. I wish my witnesses would do my work for me.”

“Ha! These aren’t ordinary witnesses. One of them is an FBI agent, and the other—well, he’s pretty smart.”

“They must be involved in the Duncan Wells case, right?”

“That’s right. You been listening to my calls, Lama?” asked Rossi with a snicker.

“Everybody here knows about that case. A tourist shot up by three men in the Colosseum? Not exactly routine.”

“What does ‘routine’ mean in this job? We see everything eventually.”

“True,” said Lama. “So are the Americans going to come here to the office to work?”

“No, I think they will work from their hotel.”

“But Santa Maura is so close,” said Lama, deliberately naming a hotel just down the street from their police station. “Why don’t they just come in here?”

“Who said they are in Santa Maura?” replied Rossi. “They are in the Pantheon Royal Suite. It’s a long drive. Plus, they are not policemen. Why should I ask them to come all the way here? I am happy they are helping me from any place.”

“Ah…I made a mistake,” said Lama. “You are right. Why
should
they come in here from so far away?”

“You see my point, no?” said Rossi. “Well, I have to go. See you later.”

Sergeant Lama watched Rossi’s retreating figure. He waited two more minutes, then sauntered out to his car and lit a cigarette. As the Marlboro dangled from his lips, he stabbed out a number on his phone with chubby fingers.

“Hello?” said the other party.

“Gino, it’s me. Orso Lama.”

“Lama,” said Gino Piazza, the Sicilian Mafia crew leader. “Do you have news?”

“I do. The Americans are returning to Rome.”

“Where are they staying?”

“The Pantheon Royal Suite,” said Lama. “They are on their way there now.”

“Excellent. Good work, Lama.”

“And…uh…about the remuneration…”

“Don’t worry. My soldier will meet you in the usual spot. Be there at eight tonight.”

Zane Crowe munched on the panini he had coaxed the hostel proprietor to purchase on his behalf. Between his injured leg and the police dragnet which surely must be ongoing, Crowe had no inclination to show his face outdoors.

A soccer game with fuzzy reception played on the room’s small television as Crowe consumed his meal. Not a bad way to pass the time, if one had to avoid the police and recover from a leg wound.

After lunch, he would resume his search for the buyer of Duncan Wells’ phone, but he was beginning to lose hope in that enterprise. None of his usual tricks seemed to work, and the associate with whom he had offered to split the proceeds had been unable to generate any leads. At least he still had the fifteen grand coming as soon as he finished off the Americans.

He started at the jarring sound of his cellphone’s ringtone. Recovering his composure, he answered the call. “Yeah.”

“Zane, this is Gino Piazza.”

“Hello, mate. Any news for me?”

“Yes, the Americans are returning to Rome today. They will be staying in the Pantheon Royal Suite.”

“That’s the ticket,” said Crowe. “Now I can track ‘em down, although I’m not leaving here until tomorrow at the earliest. I gotta get a little more rest first.”

“What happened to you, exactly?”

“The bugger shot my leg—just like he did to Fabio down in Naples. It’s like he’s trying to be captain of the bloody bad-leg club.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Piazza.

“It ain’t too bad, really, but it won’t happen again. I can promise you that.”

“I believe you,
mi amico
. I would not want to be those guys.”

Crowe ended the call. He popped the rest of the panini in his mouth and chewed in satisfaction. Things were looking up. He knew he couldn’t show his face in Florence again. The town was much too hot to assume that kind of risk. As he had predicted, the Americans were leaving town, fearful of being ambushed at their hotel, wherever that was. Little did they know that by leaving Florence, Blackwell and Wilson had breathed new life into his plan to take them out.

Now Crowe had the name of their hotel in Rome, a much better piece of intel than he had possessed here in Florence. With that information, he could work up a foolproof ambush—one involving a silent weapon that wouldn’t draw attention to itself, one they would never see coming until it was too late.

CHAPTER 49

Realizing they would have to watch for Zane Crowe regardless of the hotel they used in Rome, Alton and Mallory opted to return to the Pantheon Royal Suite.

After checking in, they deposited their suitcases on the floor of their room. Alton had been unable to secure their previous room, but this new one felt just as inviting—plus it had a single, king-sized bed.

“Welcome back,” said Alton. “Say, Rossi texted me and said he’s gathering a little more background information to kick start our research, but he hasn’t sent it yet. Since we’re in a holding pattern, we may as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Sounds good to me,” replied Mallory.

Alton fell backwards onto the soft comforter. “Hmm…I wonder why I’m so happy to be here.”

“Ha! I can guess,” said Mallory. “So…how are you feeling, anyway?”

“Fine. Glad to be back in this hotel.”

“Alton, I meant how are you feeling…south of the border?” she said, gazing below his waistline.

“South of the border, huh? Well, the…uh…capital city has always been good, but the femur province continues to stir up rebellion.”

“Ha ha. Seriously, do you think you’re ready for round two?”

“I’m still a little sore, but if we don’t do too much walking today, I think I’ll be good for tonight.”

“Okay. I don’t want you to do anything painful. I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. We could just stay here today—you know, order room service. No need to walk anywhere.”

“I don’t think we need to take it
that
easy. I really am feeling better. So long as we aren’t chased by Mafia thugs or ex-Special Forces soldiers, I should be good.”

“Okay—we’ll go out, but we’ll take it easy.”

Alton laughed. “Sounds good. We could both use a day of fun.”

“That’s right. Plus, when we get back here later, there are always ways of um…proceeding tonight that won’t be so hard on your leg.”