Midnight Angels (34 page)

“You called me the smart one only a few minutes ago,” Edwards said. “So, how smart would I be if I believed that you plan to let me out of this bathroom alive?”

“Do you know where they are?” the man asked.

Edwards nodded. “Yes, I do,” he said.

“Then we can make a fair offer,” the man said. “You tell us where the Angels are and we leave the girl alone. If you pass on it, there are men in the city ready to grab her. Once he has her, you know he’ll do whatever he needs to do to get her to talk.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Edwards said.

“It can be,” the man said, “if you let it.”

Edwards turned away from the sink and stood facing the two men. “And if I choose not to take the simple approach?” he asked. “Decide to let the girl fend for herself? What does your plan call for then?”

“You know the Raven better than anyone, is my guess,” the tall man said. “It’s not the path I’d suggest but it’s your call to make.”

“I suppose there are worse places to die than in a men’s room at a pit stop just outside Florence,” Edwards said. “Though, I must admit, I had always envisioned a more romantic finale.”

The tall man eased the left flap of his thin jacket aside and raised his right hand toward the handgun jammed against his hip. The second man walked with his head down and hands folded behind his back, bracing himself against the sink behind Edwards.

“I imagine you placed a sign outside,” Edwards said, “which explains why we’ve been here alone for such a long period.”

“What good is a men’s room when the toilets are overflowing?” the tall man said, smiling.

“You let no one in,” Edwards said with a nod. “That was a smart move. But you did make one mistake.”

“Educate us, Professor,” the tall man said.

“You didn’t check to see who was already in,” Banyon said, emerging from a tight corner of the large room. He had a gun in each hand, both with silencers attached and aimed at the back of the tall man.

“I haven’t pulled my weapon,” the tall man said, his eyes on Edwards, his words directed to Banyon.

“Then that was your second mistake,” Edwards said, coldness now lacing his voice.

He whirled toward the man behind him and deftly and with one furious motion plunged a knife deep into his stomach, not releasing his hard grip until his victim dropped to his knees, his right hand grasping the edge of the white sink, his eyes open wide, his mouth unable to form words. Behind him, Edwards heard the three soft pings of the silencer and low groan of a dying man. He pulled out his knife and turned just as the thin man fell facedown onto the marble floor.

Edwards stared up at Banyon, the smoldering guns still clutched in his hands as two thick trails of blood began to pool around his feet, and shook his head. “You ever wonder at what point the goals of the Society begin to mingle comfortably with those of the Immortals?” he asked.

“There
are
differences,” Banyon said.

“Well, then, perhaps you can remind me what they are,” Edwards said. “It would be nice for me to hear them spoken out loud.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Banyon said, “soon as we dispose of the bodies.”

CHAPTER
10

T
HE HOUSE WAS BIG, STONE, WHITE, AND SECLUDED. IT WAS A
renovated thirteenth century structure framed by manicured lawns and thick shrubs and trees that kept it all but hidden from the winding streets below. It was a half mile from Piazza Michelangelo, and the entire expanse of the city could be seen from the bay windows that dominated the large first-floor sitting room and second-story master bedroom. The ceilings were thirteen feet high, and a series of portraits of dukes, duchesses, and earls lined the walls, while thick Oriental rugs rested on marble floors.

Kate stood in the center of a large reading room on the second floor, Marco to her left. The door to the room was locked from the outside and the drapes were drawn, two large floor lamps bringing them their only light. A small fire smoldered in the stone fireplace just to Kate’s right. Outside, she could hear light rain pelting the windowpanes.

“If he’s as smart as everyone says he is,” Marco said in a hushed voice, “he will know this is a trap.”

“Maybe,” Kate said. “But let’s not give him any extra help. Let him figure it out on his own. Don’t let him see it in your eyes or hear it in your voice.”

“I’m scared,” Marco said, “and he will hear and see that.”

“You are
supposed
to be scared,” she said. “He’ll expect you to be.”

“And you?”

“I’m twice as scared as I’ve ever been in my life,” she said.

“What are you going to tell him?” Marco asked. “I mean, when he asks you about the Angels.”

“I’ll have no choice but to tell him the truth,” Kate said. “I don’t know where they are and I’m not at all certain who has them.”

“He won’t believe that,” Marco said. “If he thought anyone other than you knew where the Angels were, those people would be standing here instead of the two of us. He’ll just assume we’re lying, and that will make him angry, and as has been mentioned often enough, I’ll be the first to feel his anger.”

“Rumore won’t allow that to happen,” Kate said with a degree of reassurance, “either to you or to me.”

“You can think of him as your protector, if you wish,” Marco said, an edge to his words. “But somehow, I can’t imagine my safety being his primary concern.”

Kate smiled and pressed her right hand against his face. “That’s because you’re jealous,” she said.

“I have no cause to be jealous,” he said, caught off guard, both by Kate’s touch and her correct reading of his feelings. “Even though you must admit you are somewhat taken by him.”

“I only just met him, Marco,” she said. “But I was pretty impressed by how he handled those two men in the Gardens. He took what should have been a confrontational situation and turned it to his advantage without breaking a sweat. And he made the plan he came up with sound as if he had worked on it for weeks, instead of just inventing it on the spot.”

“He’s a detective,” Marco said. “That’s what he’s paid to do. And the plan isn’t all that wonderful, trust me. He’s out there, safe and surrounded by dozens of other police officers, while we’re in here forced to confront a danger we should be avoiding at all costs.”

“It’s all very flattering,” Kate said.

“What is?”

“Your jealousy of Rumore,” she said.

The door behind them swung open and the Raven walked in, escorted by the two men from the Gardens. “I’m glad to see you could make our little meeting,” he said. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“I don’t think we were left much choice in the matter,” Kate said.

She looked directly at him, seeing him not only as an adversary, but also as the man who might be her father. The very notion that she would have to view him as both flushed her face red with anger and trepidation. She wondered if he ever had such thoughts himself, or if he had learned
long ago simply to keep his focus on the matter facing him at that moment. Or maybe he didn’t even know the full story, had no idea of the history the two shared.

“There is always a choice,” the Raven said, “regardless of the circumstances. It always boils down to a question of need. You made the decision to come here because you felt it was in your best interest to do what you could to protect the life of your young friend. Now, that’s an admirable trait in most professions, but a damaging one in ours.”

“That would mean something if I thought we
were
in the same profession,” Kate said. “But I’m not a thief.”

“You are so much your mother’s daughter,” the Raven said, his eyes betraying the slightest hint of emotion. “I’m happy to see all the years spent under the tutelage of the professor didn’t completely dull your spirit. You’ve managed to keep it alive.”

“I understand my mother meant a great deal to you,” Kate said. She took several steps closer to him, only a few feet separating them. “Is there any truth to that?”

“There is as much truth to those words as to any you might say,” he answered.

“Then you can stop all of this now,” Kate said. “You can show me how much my mother and now her memory means to you by letting me go, along with Marco.”

“I see you also inherited your mother’s romantic side as well,” the Raven said, a smile spreading across his face, his hands gently gripping the back of a chair. “There is only one problem with that idea.”

“What?”

“I care for the Midnight Angels more than I ever cared for your mother,” he said.

“Then you didn’t know her as well as I thought.”

“Perhaps,” the Raven said. “Or maybe I knew her better than anyone else. Your mother lived for the work, and if she were as close to the Angels as I am, then she would allow nothing to stand in her way.”

Kate nodded. “I have no idea where the Angels are.”

The Raven lost the smile and the relaxed manner, the muscles of his face tensing, his hands clutching the back of the chair with a harder grip. He stared at Kate and then gave a quick glance in Marco’s direction. “By this time,” he said, “you have some idea of the kind of man I am. You have
heard or maybe even witnessed what I am capable of. If indeed you neither possess them nor know where they are, then you cease being of any use to me. Have I been clear enough?”

“Yes,” Marco said. “But she’s telling you the truth. She has no idea where the Angels are.”

“How is that possible, since you were the dynamic team that found them, then retrieved and then hid them?” the Raven asked.

“We’ll admit to that,” Kate said. “But just like we took them out of their hidden home, someone else found them and took them from what we obviously thought was a secure location.”

“Why am I to believe that?” the Raven asked.

“I don’t care whether you do or not,” Kate said. “It’s the truth.”

“Well, I’ll need you to prove that for me,” the Raven said. “And believe me when I tell you that those moments will not be pleasant ones.”

“Don’t forget to start with me,” Marco said, shaking his head in defeat. “It’s okay. I’ve been forewarned.”

“You’re also naive,” the Raven said. “Your death will not matter one bit to the young lady to whom you so clearly have sworn your devotion. Our methods may differ, but make no mistake. She and I share the same goals.”

“I don’t have the Angels and I don’t know where they are,” Kate said.

She did her best to maintain her composure, but couldn’t hide her fear. Her legs felt lifeless and she could feel a tremble in her right hand and was certain the Raven had noticed it as well. The nape of her neck was damp, and the excessive heat in the room made it difficult for her to take a full breath. She had spent large chunks of her life preparing to fulfill this role, but as she stood there, her body just a few ticks away from twitching, she realized that no amount of training could ever prepare her for the reality of such a moment.

“Then we have reached an impasse,” the Raven said. “And the only method I know to remedy such a problem is a very painful one.”

The door behind him opened and three men walked in, one of them holding a thick roll of leather.

The Raven didn’t turn to face them. “Strip the boy of his shirt and spread him out on the table,” he said, his eyes moving from Kate to Marco. “Tie his hands and bind his feet. If nothing else, I’m a complete fool for religious symbolism.”

Kate shouted, the panic finally taking full command of her body. “I don’t know where they are,” she said. “You have to believe me!”

Two of the men grabbed Marco and ripped open his blue shirt, the white circular buttons scattering to the floor, then dragged him toward a table in the corner of the room. Marco put up minimal struggle, realizing how little effect it would have on the two much stronger men. He caught Kate’s eye and saw the cold look of fear on her face, as if the blunt force of the truth had finally hit. She now knew what he had known all along—they were students who had placed themselves in the middle of a struggle between forces stronger and deadlier than any they could possibly imagine. She might have thought she was ready for such a move, and perhaps with more time and training she would have been, but the moment arrived too soon and with not enough warning for her to anticipate all the dangers that would rain down upon them.

“I don’t know what my mother saw in you,” she said, her voice low, her eyes focused on the Raven, consciously avoiding Marco as he was laid out with arms spread across the long table in the corner. “It is difficult to imagine she would risk losing the only man she loved for someone so pathetic.”

“Then you clearly know as little about your mother as I initially imagined,” the Raven said. “And you know even less about me.”

“I know what I see,” Kate said. “A man consumed by greed who reverts to murder and torture in order to acquire works of art only so that he can sell them. That is not a man my mother could ever love. That much I
do
know about her.”

“And you think her goals were so different?” he asked. “Or your own? You’re much too intelligent to believe that. Simply look at the life you’ve led—beautiful home, the best schools, travel whenever and wherever you chose to go. How do you suppose all that was paid for? And then there’s the Vittoria Society, praised far and wide as the most altruistic benefactors. Yet, here they are, the richest organization of their kind in the world, and there you stand, ready to step up to the throne when the professor’s day is done. Once you piece all those threads together, dare to tell me the difference between your mother and me.”

Kate stood silent for several moments, the heat in the room becoming even more oppressive despite the bottom of the curtains furling in the evening breeze of the gardens below. “My mother would not have stood
for this,” she finally said. “She might have given her all to acquire the works, but there were certain lines she would never have crossed.”

“And I might have done the same,” the Raven said, “had she chosen to remain by my side.”