A Dangerous Arrangement (25 page)

He was at the piazza now, cutting through the American markets.

Italian women with cane baskets over their arms took their time inspecting the fresh produce. He jammed the Cobra cap on his head and made for the golf shop opposite the cathedral.

Food didn't interest him.

Golf interested him.

He glanced at the cathedral and wondered if Marina would turn up.

He needed a number of things to go his way for the plan to come together. She had to have seen his text. And she'd need to keep her nerve. He was sure she would have been checking her phone. He was unsure about her holding her nerve.

The piazza was swarming with paparazzi. They stood in groups, drinking coffee. Waiting for a celebrity.

A stroke of luck.

If his lone wolf days were to end here, his arrest should garner every bit of publicity it could.

Recognition was not to be feared.

Publicity would be his friend.

The higher his profile, the greater chance a huge government department in either China or the United States would request his services.

A group of paparazzi burst into raucous laughter.

Biding their time.

Waiting for a celebrity.

Not him.

At least, not yet.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Marina sat in the hot shuttle, jammed between a man with a walking stick and an elegant older lady who'd told her she'd been into Florence and Pisa on previous cruises. This time, she'd decided to venture as far as Livorno.

Marina's heart pounded and her forehead beaded with perspiration. She said as little as possible. Any moment she feared the woman would recognise her and mention the string quartet.

It's no big deal. Say you stayed on board for the remainder of the cruise. Remember what he said. Act naturally.

She could see the balding officer who'd left before her. He was sitting three rows in front, looking through a tourist brochure on Livorno.

Dean was somewhere up the back.

She couldn't see the others.

A ten-minute shuttle ride.

Two minutes to go.

The last minute and a half, Marina counted down the seconds. When the shuttle finally pulled into the Piazza Grande, she lined up to exit with the others.

Grateful for the sunglasses.

Glad of the hat.

Chapter Thirty

The piazza bustled with activity. Buses and taxis, markets and pedestrians, shops and cafes everywhere.

Dean focused on Marina, and didn't look for the others. For the first time since Venice, his camera swung from his neck. It was a practical addition to the Hawaiian shirt and Yankees cap.

He stayed behind her, and to the left. When she moved to the left to look in the shop windows, he moved to the right, towards the centre of the piazza.

He could see the cathedral up ahead on the right.

Was Yu, or Li rather, already there?

The paparazzi certainly were. They were right out the front, standing in groups, smoking and drinking coffee.

Rask would be hyperventilating if he could see how close Dean was to them now, and he was glad his old friend was spared the stress. The delight Rask took evading the paparazzi had grown out of a protectiveness born twenty-odd years ago.

Nothing would change that now.

Dean kept his eyes on Marina, hands clammy, adrenaline making his heart beat faster. If the police made an arrest, these vultures were already on the spot. They'd be all over it like a rash in seconds.

Dread settled like a weight in Dean's chest.

It would be a miracle if Marina got out of this without being recognised.

Right then she stopped to look in a shop window.

Dean lingered by a stall, pretending to inspect the merchandise.

An Italian lady, dressed in top-to-toe black, smiled at him. ‘Can I help you, signore?'

‘Er …' Dean scanned the assortment of summer clothing, an idea forming in his head. A colourful woman's caftan was on display, the kind that reached midway between the thigh and knee and was usually worn over a swimsuit. It was a striking piece, modern and smart.

And best of all, it had a hood.

‘I'll take that.' He pointed to the caftan.

‘It's lovely, isn't it?'

‘Hmm.' Dean looked up, his eyes on Marina.

Shit!

She was starting to cross the piazza, heading for the cathedral.

He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and thrust it at the woman. ‘Would you mind hurrying, please? I'm losing my wife.'

As the woman pulled a plastic bag from under the stall, Dean grabbed a pair of ‘Jackie Onassis' style black sunnies from the display and dropped them in the bag. ‘I'll take those as well.'

‘My pleasure, signore.'

Ten seconds later the woman was handing him the bag, and he was waving away his change.

Then he was crossing the piazza, eyes on Marina as she walked up the steps of the Cathedral of San Francesco d'Assisi.

Chapter Thirty-One

Marina averted her face away from the men with the zoom lenses and walked purposefully up the steps of the church.

An old man sat on a wooden chair in the vestibule. He was collecting admission from the line of people in front. An assortment of medals, rosary beads, holy cards and prayer books were displayed for sale on the table beside him. Next to it stood a notice stating the money was used for the ongoing restoration of the church.

Marina shivered as the cool air caressed her clammy skin. Was Victor somewhere inside, or would she be required to sit in a pew and wait for him? It had been a long time since she'd been inside a church. She'd attended a catholic school in Boston, so she had a recollection of the protocol required.

She could light a candle. That would be a nice thing to do, and from what the old fellow was saying to the people ahead of her, there were intricate ceiling frescos and a famous painting
Christ Crowned with Thorns
. At least that would give her something to look at if Victor, or Li, wasn't inside. She'd be conspicuous sitting in a pew for ages.

As it turned out, she didn't make it through the door.

‘I'm sorry, Miss.' The man gave her a disapproving look as she approached. ‘No shorts allowed.'

‘What?' Marina went light-headed as the blood drained from her face.

‘There's the dress code.' The man pointed to a sign hanging on the wall.

No shorts. Ladies arms must be covered.

‘Oh, what a shame.'

Marina heard a sympathetic voice behind her.

A woman of around fifty was throwing a wrap around her bare shoulders. ‘You learn after a while. I got caught out like that in Florence. It's not so bad if it's your arms, some of the churches even keep a box of scarves at the door for women to use for that very purpose. But when it's shorts?' The woman shrugged. ‘There's not much you can do.'

The woman's words barely permeated Marina's numb mind. Not one of them, not Rask, Dean or the three Italian policemen had picked up on this.

What did she do now?

Use your wits.

She cleared her throat and did her best to smile at the man. ‘Would you be able to make an exception in this case? I've arranged to meet someone inside.'

‘I'm sorry,' the man said, though he looked far from apologetic. ‘If we made exceptions for one we'd have to make exceptions for all.'

So much for Christianity.

Marina swallowed and bit back a retort. Now wasn't the time to draw attention to herself by trying to convince this man to let her in.

Someone touched her on the shoulder, and she jumped.

Heart banging, she swung around.

It was the woman who'd spoken earlier. ‘Would you like me to see if your friend's inside? I could give them a message.'

‘Oh, no, thank you.' Marina attempted a smile and backed away. ‘I'll just wait outside.'

She swung around and almost collided with the policeman with the wire-rimmed glasses. He didn't look at her, but she knew he'd heard every word.

Son of a bitch!

What was she to do now?

She'd have to buy a skirt from one of the shops and pull it over the top of her denim shorts.

She stepped outside and halted at the top of the steps, eyes scanning the area. There was no sign of Victor—Li, but she saw Dean coming towards her. He was in the middle of the piazza and heading right for the church.

Thankfully, he stopped when he caught sight of her, put down the carry bag he was holding and picked up his camera from where it hung around his neck. Except for his touristy clothes, he could have been another member of the paparazzi. Certainly no-one paid him any attention as he stood on the pavement, a little way along from the others, and fiddled with the zoom lens.

As Marina descended the steps, he turned towards the Town Hall opposite and began taking photographs of the building.

Thankful for his quick thinking, Marina was halfway down the steps when her phone rang. She paused again, and with shaking hands picked her phone from her bag. This was certain to be the police officer who'd witnessed the debacle in the vestibule.

‘Hello?'

‘Marina.'

Marina's legs seemed to disappear out from under her.

‘Victor?'

‘What are you doing standing outside? Our plans were to meet inside the church.'

He was here!

Watching her!

And he'd recognised her even with the hat and sunglasses.

Did that mean he'd spotted Dean too?

Come on, Marina! Think! Think!

‘I've got shorts on. They won't let me in. I didn't know.'

In the pause that followed, Marina recalled the police would be listening in on the conversation.

‘Do you have it?'

‘I'm here, aren't I?' she snapped.

Natural enough?

She turned her back on Dean so she was looking at the church. If Victor could see her, the last thing she wanted to do was draw his attention to Dean.

Then Victor—
Li
, spoke again. ‘Okay, you see that cafe opposite?'

Heart pounding so hard the blood was crashing in her temples, Marina turned slowly and looked to the other side of the piazza. ‘The one under the big white building? The one with the green awnings?'

‘That's right. Go in there.'

‘Okay.'

She swiped a shaking thumb across the screen and killed the call. As she put the phone back inside the bag, she felt for the USB.

Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck!

This was it.

She began descending the steps again, Dean's words ringing in her ears.
He'll expect you to be nervous. It would be strange if you weren't.

Determined not to look at him, and careful not to fall down the steps, she continued to the bottom. The police would be aware of what was happening, but Rask had given them strict instructions not to make a move until they were positive they had the right man.

She headed across the piazza, eyes peeled for Li Chen.

Chapter Thirty-Two

From inside the golf shop next door, Li watched Marina come towards him. He scanned the surrounding area. The place was packed with locals, tourists from the cruise ship and the paparazzi.

Even so, it was peaceful.

People were out enjoying the early morning sun.

Not a cop anywhere in sight.

Most of them were probably stationed down by the docks, waiting for the celebrity's yacht to berth. According to the golf shop owner, another large contingent of paparazzi was gathered down by the water.

Li watched as Marina grew closer. Even from across the piazza, he'd had no trouble recognising her. He'd lived with her for six months. Even her hat was familiar.

He shifted the pack on his back and pretended to inspect the ‘Big Bertha' driver he held, though he continued to scan the piazza.

He was certain she was alone.

And she'd made a natural gaff, turning up at the church wearing shorts.

Returning the driver to the sets of clubs in front of him, he turned and thanked the shopkeeper.

Marina was outside now, only a few metres away.

He opened the door and walked towards her.

There was safety in numbers.

Another minute, and he'd have the designs in his hands.

***

Marina faltered as Li came towards her.

He looked the same as always. Jeans, tee-shirt, cap with some kind of logo.

She heard the policeman's voice in her head.
He's a white collar criminal. There's nothing to suggest he'll harm the lady.

‘I thought you wanted to meet inside,' she said when he was within earshot, pointing to the cafe and trying to sound as natural as possible.

‘It's crowded, and it's not like we'll be drinking coffee.'

Marina stiffened as his eyes shifted around the piazza, praying he wouldn't recognise Dean.

‘Why me, Victor?'

She couldn't slip up, couldn't call him Li, couldn't let him know she knew his true identity.

And she had to distract him.

‘You were the stand-out candidate for flatmate,' he said, watching as she began to unzip her handbag. ‘An American citizen. No family or significant other in the country.'

She dug in the bag with nervous fingers, sweat beading on her forehead.

Where the hell were the cops?

Surely they'd seen him by now.

‘Teaching all day, rehearsing at night. A world traveller.'

Arsehole.

It seemed she too had been specifically chosen.

‘Hurry up.'

She jumped as he lost his patience.

‘Alright! I'm nervous, goddamn it. It's in the inside zipper.'

Where the hell were they?

‘You hand it over—nothing will happen to your career.'

‘How
generous
.'

An impotent anger burned in Marina's chest. She wanted to push him, shove him, pummel the bastard with her fists and kick out at him with her feet.