Marked Masters (31 page)

I arrived unscathed at the outer end of the
pedestrian zone. My watcher's duties apparently were to pursue
rather than intercept. I was relieved by this revelation but not
particularly reassured about my future safety. When I arrived at
the road I recognized as the one leading to the parking area, I
pretended to window shop and drifted down the sidewalk in the
direction toward where I'd left the Vespa. I wanted to give Nico
time to move the scooter into position to watch for us. We'd
decided not to call or text when he was ready, in case my shadow
got too close at the wrong time. Once enough time elapsed, I
quickened my pace and noticed my "friend" doing likewise.

The blue front fender of the Vespa peeped
out from the cover of a shrub, so I assumed Nico was ready for the
second phase of our plan. I watched for two empty cabs coming at
the same time and hailed the first one.

As expected, the other cab was quickly
flagged down by my tail.

I gave the cabbie the address of the
pension.
I was paid up for several more days, and I intended
to leave today without a good-bye to my landlady. I wanted her to
be able to honestly say she expected me back at any time. A look at
my watch made me send up a quick prayer that her priest was long
winded and her lunch a lengthy affair. We were working on instinct
and serendipity here and had to take every advantage.

The taxi soon pulled to the curb in front of
my
pension
, and the other cab drove a bit further on but
stopped where someone in the backseat could easily observe my
destination.

As I paid my fare, I asked, "Can you come
back for me in thirty minutes?"

He cocked his bald head to one side. "Thirty
minuti
?"

"
Sì.
" I racked my brain for the
Italian word for return, finally remembering, "You…" I pointed at
him. "
Ritorno
here…" I pointed down, toward the spot the
taxi occupied in the street. "In thirty
minuti
." I felt like
such an ugly American with my disjointed words and sign
language.

"
Sì.
" He nodded and gave me a wide
smile. "
Sì.
"

I thanked him and climbed from the cab,
walking casually toward the front door despite a desire to run. My
taxi pulled away. I hoped I would see him again soon, as promised.
The other cab remained parked in its nearby location.

Palming the key, I turned slightly when I
got to the door so my body hid the fact that I had to unlock the
entrance. A neighbor standing outside was surprised when I called a
greeting and waved, pretending I was so glad to see her. When I
actually opened the front door, I extended my charade, remaining on
the stoop for a moment to talk nonsense at the empty foyer, as if
carrying on a conversation with my landlady before finally crossing
the threshold. Once inside, I bolted myself in and raced up to the
nearest window.

A tiny break in the curtains allowed me to
watch for six and a half minutes until the other cab pulled back
into traffic and drove away. I stayed rooted to my spot and was
rewarded with the sight of Nico and the Vespa emerging from an
alley across the way a moment later. He would tail the cab to see
if that gave us a location for Tony B's headquarters in
Florence.

I hurried upstairs to pack, and was back in
the foyer again, my luggage sitting beside me when my patient
cabbie returned for the second time.

The next phase of our plan called for me to
ride around in the taxi until Nico called for a pickup from the
Vespa place. Another forty-five minutes and he was sitting beside
me and giving our cabbie directions in Italian to the hotel he'd
chosen.

"Find out anything?" I asked quietly in
English after our driver pulled back into traffic.

"A business first," Nico said. "It was a
converted palazzo too, but on the other side of the city and in a
rundown area. No sign outside, but there were a lot of trucks, as
if they used the building for storage."

Generally, addresses with red numbering
signified a business in Florence, whereas residences used the color
black/blue, so I understood how Nico reached his conclusion. "So
without a business name, we don't know who operates out of the
place."

"I sent the address to Cassie and told her
how to research it. She will send back info when she has
something."

"You two work well together," I said, a bit
proud of my team.

"She is very smart. Her brain—" He made a
curve motion at the side of his head with an index finger. "You see
behind her eyes. She is working. Puzzling it all out."

Wow! I'd better watch out, or my
assistant could stage a coup. She already has Max and Nico behind
her.
I smiled at the thought. Cassie was one person I would
trust never to betray me, unlike my current reticence about my old
friend Flavia.

"That reminds me." I took a minute to sketch
out my concerns about Flavia and reiterate what Jack told me the
previous evening about the gallery. "When we get a chance, we need
to do some checking on everyone associated with the gallery, but
especially Flavia."

He nodded, pulling out his wallet as the
view of our hotel filled the windshield.

"But we got off track," I said, stepping
from the cab after he opened the curbside door. "I take it you went
somewhere else after the warehouse?"

The cabbie passed him my luggage, and Nico
extended the handle. "Yes, we went next to a villa on the outskirts
of the city. There was a high wall, and the house was at least
three stories, but I couldn't find any trace of guard dogs."

"So you think—"

"That is where your friend is staying, I
believe."

I barely acknowledged the sumptuous lobby.
My mind was too focused on the possibility of interrogating Tina.
Nico got us checked into a suite, and I kept silent until we
entered the elevator alone with just my one piece of rolling
luggage.

"Was the wall electrified?" I asked.

"I saw no evidence. There was razor wire
across the top of the wall, however."

I grinned. "I can get around that."

"I know you can."

"Just like his office in Miami, he counts on
his goons for protection instead of gizmos. Tony B needs to join
the twenty-first century and amp up his security." No dogs. No
perimeter electric hazard. A sense of calm filled me. "How many
stories did you say?"

"Mostly two. There is a small third story,
but I seriously doubt Tina is there. My guess is the balcony
bedroom near the southwest corner. At least, I would start
there."

"Because?"

"I saw a young woman walk past the open
balcony doors while I was scouting out the area. She didn't appear
to be a servant."

Our floor dinged, and Nico rolled my bag
down the hall. I instinctively noted where the staircase was
located, not so much for fire safety as general escape. The keycard
produced the necessary green light, and we were inside. I could
finally ask the rest of my questions.

"Why didn't you think she was a servant? Was
she young? Beautiful?" I asked.

Nico set my bag on the luggage rack, then
walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. He lowered himself
elegantly into the leather seat and took a moment to pinch the
crease in his tan slacks, pointedly ignoring me until he was ready.
Then he looked up and smiled. "Yes, she was young, and she was
beautiful."

I was about to ask if she resembled the
picture that first appeared on the Internet in connection with the
murder in Bricknell, but I stopped when Nico added, "And after she
removed a chin-length blond wig, she pulled out the clips in her
dark hair, and the long waves fell to the middle of her back."

"Bingo!"

By nine in the evening, Detective Roblo's
plane landed at the Galileo Galilei Airport in Pisa, and he would
soon be en route by train to Florence. It was the cheaper way to
get into the area, and I felt sorry for him having to take the
longer route. Originally, we'd planned to wait for him before
approaching the villa, had even promised him we would when he
returned our call during his long layover at Heathrow. Then he
called from the train, pleased to inform us he'd connected with
authorities in Pisa and made sure Tony B stayed under surveillance
as we directed our investigation toward the villa.

I choked out words that sounded something
like "Oh good lord" and tossed the phone to Nico. When he
disconnected, I was already changing into my black Lycra
catsuit.

He shifted rapidly through screens on his
phone and said, "I take it you believe our detective was a bit
naïve in thinking he could trust the
polizia
in Pisa."

"No, right now I'm thinking
we
were
beyond naïve and way over into
stupid
to trust a detective
from Miami!" I finished pulling at the neckline to get the material
to lay comfortably over my shoulders. "Can you track Tony B's
movements?"

"He is currently using his phone. Given what
the detective said, and based on the cell towers triggered by Tony
B's call and his movements, I can deduce that he is heading back
this way from Pisa at a significantly higher rate of speed than the
posted limit."

"Shit!" I added a utility belt around my
waist. "Can we get there ahead of him?"

"I expect it will be close."

With the right tools, I can get into
anything, and I'd spent that afternoon acquiring whatever I needed
to break into the villa in the event the worst-case scenario
occurred. Currently, we were well past that point.

Half an hour later I had Nico planted along
the inside of the villa's perimeter wall and was scaling the
building's rock face like Spiderman. Only a fanny pack of chalk
powder kept my hands from slipping from the stone façade. Nico had
a rope and grappling hook if he had to ride to the rescue, but I
preferred to try the stealth approach.

Each move offered its own risk and reward. I
couldn't climb close to Tina's room, because the wall below it was
a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows and a French door that accessed
the patio. I had to move over about twelve feet to start my climb,
then once I reached the second level take a horizontal path to get
back to the balcony. Anytime a hold slipped, I grabbed another
handful of chalk. I knew my suit would look like a panda by the
time I reached my objective, but I carried a set of wipes tucked
into my bra to return my suit to its black beauty at the proper
time.

I heard movement and shouts inside the
villa, and engines revving in the garage. Time was ticking away
fast for us to pull this off, but at least all the activity kept
them from noticing me attempting to sneak inside.

When I reached the balcony, I slid my left
foot over to balance on the railing. Then I carefully dragged my
right shoe left to meet its mate. Every nerve ending in me wanted
to leap off and run into the room, but my endless planning and
training held me back. I couldn't stop a quiet thump when I hit the
stone deck, but I reassured myself I was the only one who heard the
sound.

In seconds, I removed the wipes and dusted
away the chalk from my suit in case I needed to move further into
the house and hide in shadows. I knew Nico would be watching to see
me when I hit the light from the room, so I didn't bother to wave
or give him any kind of high sign. Focus was the key, and I was
giving it my all.

Under the glare of every bedroom light, I
saw Tina flitting from one end of the room to the other, packing
her clothes and sorting through papers. Some of the pages were
packed in a file case. Others were shredded. I couldn't help
wondering what was too sensitive to simply throw away. Bills of
lading? Counterfeit provenance on the marked masters we'd already
discovered? And what part had she played in this terrifying farce
of fakes, guns, and dead bodies?

I unsheathed the knife hanging on the
opposite side of my belt from the chalk pack and pulled the
flexible plastic tie cuffs from my bra. I waited. Whenever she
shredded documents, Tina had to turn so her back was to me. If she
grabbed a larger than normal stack, I planned to use her action,
along with the grinding noise of the shredder, to cover my
entrance. I'd almost given up hope, when she grabbed the last
stack, scanned the top couple of sheets, then grasped one side
tight in one hand and used the other to fan through the pages from
the opposite corner as if she were viewing a flip book. Satisfied,
she moved to the shredder with the ream of paper.

My knife was at her throat in seconds.

"Put your hands behind your back."

"Laurel, I—"

"Now!" I let the knife scrape her skin. She
didn't need any more persuasion. A second later my free hand held
her wrists together, and I held the knife between my teeth so I
could restrain her with the zip tie cuffs. I shoved her toward a
chair, but she missed the seat and landed in a heap on the floor. I
pulled another zip tie from my bra and bound her ankles together,
then flashed the knife so her eyes grew wide as I asked, "Who
killed Phyllis? You or Tony B?"

"Are you kidding me? Who cares?" She started
crying, and her face mottled in red splotches as her angry words
spewed. "You know what my family is like. You saw how I was pimped
out to any feeble old billionaire Phyllis could sink her tentacles
into. You have no idea the kind of humiliation—"

"So now you pimp yourself out to Tony
B?"

Her tears stopped in an instant, and she
sneered at me. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You're
off base completely."

"Why did Tony B have Jack arrested?"

"Because he could!" she snapped at me.

"What is he afraid of? Why is he after Jack
and me?"

She started laughing then, and I wondered if
mental illness was also a gift from Phyllis, given the manic shift
she'd just broad jumped from despair all the way through to glee.
When she stopped laughing, she said, "He isn't afraid of anyone.
You have no idea the scope of what and whom you're dealing with,
Laurel. You have no idea who you're dealing with when it comes to
Tony B."