Midnight Angels (20 page)

“Grab your friend and get in the van,” the driver said, unshaken.

“What about him?” Kate managed to stammer, pointing a shaking finger at the body resting by her feet, a pool of dark blood spreading out from around his waist.

“He stays here,” the driver said, turning toward the van. “And so will you and your friend unless you both get in the van now.”

Kate managed a few unsteady steps toward Marco, reaching down for him, resting her fingers on the small of his neck. “We need to go,” she whispered.

He looked up at her through a pair of blurry, tear-filled eyes. “What have we done?” he asked.

The driver started the van, and Kate could hear the shift in gears from neutral to first. She helped Marco to his feet and pulled open the side panel, holding him in place as she did. She eased him headfirst into the middle seat and waited as he leaned over and came to rest on his side. She then stepped into the van and slid the door closed, her eyes frozen on the man they were about to leave behind. A man murdered for three sculpted works, which to her, was for no reason at all. It was one thing to want to possess a great work. It was even acceptable to go to great lengths to acquire such works. It was, after all, what treasure hunters had done for centuries. But to kill for them or to die for them seemed to her to bring the world she was now so very much a part of up to new and much more dangerous levels. And she knew there could be no turning back once the journey down such a dark road began.

The van took off, engine churning, lights dimmed, down the dark strada, the Midnight Angels safely in the rear, rescued from the shuttered walls of a secret corridor, the first victim of their escape now lying dead on a quiet street.

CHAPTER
24

“T
HERE’S BEEN A BREACH,” SAID EDWARDS, BARELY ABLE TO
control his anger. He was standing in the middle of an empty street, across from the Excelsior Hotel, a light rain starting to fall about him. “I want to know how it happened.”

“We were prepared for it,” the man said. “There was no way we were going to leave the kids hanging on that street. We had our people in place, anticipating a move from somewhere. And when the guy popped, we had it handled.”

“That’s not the point,” Edwards said. “We had a guy come at Kate with a damn pipe, Russell. No matter how many of our people we had on the ground, there was no way that should have happened.”

“I get it, Richard,” Russell said. “But look, as of last week, there were at least a dozen of the Raven’s men in town, and who knows how many more have been brought in since. On top of that, this city is prime turf for art hunters, gallery thieves, curators looking for a find. There were maybe a hundred ways this might have leaked out, and not all of them could have been stopped by us.”

“She could have been
killed
, Russell. To me, that’s an entire universe removed from a simple security malfunction. On top of that, they didn’t go and hire local, didn’t bring in someone paid to simply scare her and her friend away. Which might have worked. Instead, they opted for brawn over brains and came within a flash of killing Kate.”

“We have an ID on the contract,” Russell said, nodding in silent agreement. “From what little we could gather on his background, he’s not a player in the art world and I doubt that he had a clue what could have
been in the van, or cared a whit about it even if he had. He’s a thug, hired to scare and to harm.”

“He may not have known what was going to be placed in that van,” Edwards said, “but the one who hired him did. It doesn’t surprise me that word found its way to the Raven. What does surprise me is the speed with which it happened. We need to find out who it is and what else he or she knows and has passed on, and we need to do it now.”

“Do you trust the boy?” Russell asked. “Kate’s friend?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“I had him checked out early on, when he first came across Kate’s radar,” Russell said. “There was nothing there. This time, I’ll have our guys poke a little deeper, see what we can turn up, if anything.”

“He’s a start,” Edwards said, “but if he’s a part of this, he’s only a small piece. We need to get to the primary, and the sooner we do that, the better.”

“I’ll double the security around the area where the Angels have been hidden,” Russell said. “And ramp up coverage on Kate as well.”

“Hold off on that,” Edwards said. “I don’t want too much attention brought to the hiding spot, at least not yet. The Raven will be monitoring our moves, and he’ll notice if we increase the number of our people in any one location.”

“Well, as of this morning, not a peep out of the museum,” Russell said. “It’s as if the lift never happened.”

“The museum might have been in the dark about the Angels being in the corridor themselves,” said Edwards. “Whoever hid the works did their best to keep a low profile. The Uffizi may know they’re missing or they may not. Either way, they won’t show their hand until they need to.”

“Until I secure the breach, I’m going to put a hold on everything else we got working in the city,” Russell said. “Is that okay with you?”

Edwards nodded. “As long as it doesn’t take too long,” he said. “We have to seal this up. Once word gets out, it might be too late to prevent a further betrayal.”

“Who knows you’re in the city?”

“Besides you and Rita?” Edwards asked. “No one. And if possible, I want it kept that way.”

“How does she play into this?” Russell asked.

“Rita will have a role. I’m just not sure what that is yet.”

“She won’t be as good as her father,” Russell said, “if that’s what you’re hoping.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Edwards said. “I’m willing to wager she might be better, in a totally different way. Not as brutal, but equally as effective.”

“We’ll know whether you’re right on that soon enough,” Russell said. “I have a feeling there’s not going to be much in the way of downtime on this job.”

“Are we set for tonight’s meeting?” Edwards asked.

“Pretty much,” Russell said. “I need to tighten one or two screws, but it’s all perimeter detail, nothing crucial.”

“Just to be safe, though, make sure you check out the people scheduled to come, even those we know well. No one is above suspicion. I don’t want to be caught off guard twice in less than twenty-four hours.”

“What about Kate?” Russell asked.

“What about her?”

“She still doesn’t know you’re in town, and she might be a little rattled from what happened at the lift. Maybe she would welcome the sight of a friendly face.”

“That will have to wait,” Edwards said. “I’ll connect with her when the time is right. For the moment, let’s keep the focus on our inside problem. Who that person is and how close to us he or she is will affect Kate more than anyone. Her safety and the safety of the Midnight Angels cannot be sacrificed, whatever the cost.”

“I should have some credible information in a few hours,” Russell said. “We’ll take some hard looks at anyone who might have reason to be unhappy with the Society and stands within the Raven’s reach. This business always comes down to a question of easy money. I need to find out who in our group is most in need.”

“Any chance we’re dealing with more than one loose thread?” Edwards asked. “That there might be a rogue team within the Society?”

“There’s always a risk of that, no matter how tight the organization,” Russell said. “There is always the temptation to reach for a bigger cut. But we screen and vet our people for months before we even consider a first meeting. It might be possible for one or two bad seeds to filter in. But a whole splinter group? With all the checks and internals we have in place, I would give something like that the longest possible odds.”

“It’s happened before,” Edwards said. “And, at the time, there was no one who was held in greater regard than the Raven.”

“We have no one in the Society today who’s even in the same league as the Raven,” Russell said. “We learned a harsh lesson from his betrayal. No one has been allowed the access he had and the power he could wield. There was not one aspect of the business he didn’t know about or have input into. That’s the risk you run when you groom someone to succeed you.”

“That’s what happens when you groom the
wrong
someone,” Edwards said.

“If there’s a loose wire under our feet, rest assured, Richard, I will find out who it is,” Russell said, “and I’ll deal with it.”

“Not right away,” Edwards said. “We need to know who it is and who he is now working for, that part is abundantly clear. But we also need to keep the spy in our midst alive, at least for the run of this mission. He can be an important asset that we shouldn’t be quick to dismiss.”

“That will work once, maybe twice if we catch some luck,” Russell said. “You can’t expect it to go much further than that.”

“All I need is just the once,” Edwards said. “After that, our spy will have served his purpose and no longer be of any use to us or to the Raven.”

“In that case, we might as well keep our hands completely clean,” Russell said. “Leave it to the Raven to bring our traitor to a well-deserved death.”

“You’ll need to make one more phone call before we allow that to happen,” Edwards said, “just to complete the picture.”

Russell smiled. “Our police contacts will be notified.”

“Don’t go local,” Edwards said. “They’ll be looking to come in and simply make an arrest.”

“But you want more,” Russell said.

Edwards thought a moment, then nodded. “A lot more,” he said.

CHAPTER
25

I
T WAS A COOL SUNDAY MORNING, TWO DAYS AFTER THE MIDNIGHT
Angels were lifted out of their hiding place, and the bells of Florence were clanging, the streets filled with citizens of all ages moving, willingly or not, toward the closest church and the start of high mass, the first step in what would be a leisurely day of food, drink, and family gatherings. It is a weekly ritual that helps frame the fabric of most any town, but it is especially true in Florence, a modern city that happily wraps itself in the warmth of its medieval traditions.

The past still resonates in Florence’s present, no more strongly than early on a Sunday morning. The windows of the stone homes are opened wide during the spring and summer weeks or are slightly ajar in the colder months, allowing the smells of percolating sauces and grilling chickens or fresh-cut roasts crackling in warm ovens to wind their way down the ancient stone paths. Music mingles with the sounds of the street—children laughing; teenagers marching in hand-locked pairs, their voices rising as they make their way through the various squares that lead to the ornate church doors; clusters of tourists moving with the flow, some stopping to take pictures and buy gifts or a panino at the various stores and stalls catering to their desires, most just enjoying the vibrant pageantry—while old men in suits they have worn for years and elderly women in equally vintage outfits slowly lead the march toward the rows of straw chairs and wooden pews of high-ceilinged cathedrals to hear the soothing words of a religion they have embraced their entire lives.

Kate and Marco walked down a shadowed path in the beautiful gardens of the Giardino dei Semplici, the aroma of the flowers and foliage
mixing sweetly with the thick scent of tomato sauce filtering down from the windows and doors of the surrounding homes. “Sunday has always been my favorite day,” Marco said. “No matter how sad it makes me.”

“Why does it make you sad?” Kate asked.

“Look around,” he said. “What do you see? Families and friends heading off to church, walking as one, and after mass they will head back home to sit and enjoy a big meal. They will spend the day telling stories, watching football, napping, playing cards, going for long walks, maybe they’ll even have an argument or a political discussion. But whatever they do, they will do it together.”

“And you don’t have that?”

“I did, but it was for too short a time,” he said. “After my father died, it was never the same. And then when my mother remarried, it all changed, and not for the better. I’m not blaming anyone. It’s just something that happened. But on days like today, I do miss it.”

“I know how you feel,” Kate said. “I wish I had more memories of my parents. I can go back and read the work they left behind, and Professor Edwards did his best to keep them alive for me through the stories he told, but it’s not the same as having them there next to you, through good days and bad.”

“How do you think they would feel about what we just did?” Marco asked. “Not so much the discovery. I would imagine they would have been thrilled about that. I mean the other part. You know, the two of us removing the Angels from their hidden place. Would they approve of that?”

Kate walked with her head down and stayed silent for several moments. The question was not one she expected, and it gave her pause. Her parents were renowned and respected art historians and probably would be quick to frown on what pretty much amounted to art theft. Still, they did believe that art deserved to be seen and not hidden away, that it belonged not to collectors who hoarded it but to the people for whom the works were originally intended.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Marco,” she finally said. “I suppose they would want a reasoned explanation as to why I decided to move them. And I think I would have to do a lot better than thinking it was simply the right thing to do.”

“Do you believe that?” he asked. “That it was the right thing to do?”

“I wouldn’t have moved them if I didn’t,” Kate said.

“And what happens now?”

“We wait,” she said, “but not for long. Soon, there will be people here with a lot more experience than we have, and it will be up to them to determine the next move.”