The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9 Page 34

  The image of Sarah exploding from within made him smile.

  Man, am I going to love killing this stupid bitch.

  Chapter 30

  They found a large cafe that was nearly empty as siesta had started. Most businesses closed from 1:30 p.m. until around 3:30 p.m. to avoid the hottest part of the day. It had become such a custom that the Italians did it even in the colder months.

  After ordering two cappuccinos, they sat in the far corner. Sarah placed the Sig on her lap.

  “My piece is aimed at you. The safety is off. We’re going to talk. You so much as twitch, I’ll twitch, too. You don’t want me to twitch.”

  He nodded as he raised his coffee cup slowly.

  “Now, talk,” she said. “Where’s Marconi going to be?”

  “In the square called April 25, at a restaurant.”

  “Why did they name the square a date?”

  “At the end of World War II, April 25th was the date Italy was liberated from the Nazis.”

  “Oh.” Sarah nodded. “It’s a good name then. Tell me about the restaurant.”

  “It’s called Capitone.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  “I won’t reveal my sources. You can shoot me, but I’ll never reveal my sources. Even in a court of law, my sources stay with me.”

  “Honorable. Admirable. But I don’t care. How do you know about this dinner?”

  He looked down at his cup and stirred the milk froth on top.

  Sarah kicked him under the table. “What do you think this is? A fucking game? I ask a question, I get an answer.” She kicked him again. “If you’re some asshole who’s here to kill me or Marconi or the ministers at the conference or all of us, then your stupidity will give you away. But if you’re really The Cowboy, then we’re on the same side and I need to know everything. It’s a matter of my life and your death.”

  He looked up and met her gaze. “I often use illegal means to get the information I need.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “I’m not proud of what I do,” Frank said.

  Kick me again, Frank thought. I’ll shove that foot so far up your pretty little ass it’ll come out your mouth.

  “What did you do to learn about Marconi in Umbertide?”

  He was beginning to think she would never believe him. Was there anything he could say that would get her to believe him? He wracked his brain trying to remember anything he could about that fucking Cowboy, but couldn’t. He would just have to wing it and hoped she took the bait.

  Otherwise he would kill the stupid whore in a cafe in Umbertide for the world to see.

  His breaking point was near, the edge close. One more disrespectful act from Sarah, just one, and he would teach her some manners.

  I hope she believes me or she’ll end up dead over her cappuccino.

  Frank opened his mouth and continued to lie.

  “I tracked Marconi’s cell phone. Then I used illegal software to hack into his phone. I was able to hear everything.”

  Was he lying? Sarah couldn’t tell. Is there software that allowed people to do this? Are the days of planting bugs over?

  “Why not take this to the authorities?” she said. “Let them track Marconi and arrest him.”

  “The information was obtained illegally. It would never hold up in court.”

  She nodded. “Why aren’t you wearing a cowboy hat if you’re The Cowboy?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Look at my face.” She gave him a blank stare. “Do you think I’m kidding?”

  He shook his head.

  “You’ll know when I’m kidding,” she added. “I’ll have wine in one hand, a smile on my face, music will be playing and people will be dancing. I’ll crack a sour joke and we’ll pretend to laugh. That’s me kidding. This isn’t. Catch the difference?”

  His eye twitched briefly.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Muscle spasm? Or anger?”

  “Fear,” he mumbled. “You scare me.”

  “Good.” She didn’t believe him. “Now answer the fucking question.”

  “I got the nickname The Cowboy because of my reckless nature in the articles I write.” He paused to clear his throat. “I write about hot subjects and call people to answer for their actions. I didn’t get the name because of how I dress and I didn’t change how I dress because of the name.”

  “What can you tell me about the conference coming to Umbertide?”

  “The man who hired Marconi will be there. I know that.”

  “Who is he?”

  Ponytail man almost looked happy to say his name.

  “The Minister of Finance, Silvio Capelli.”

  “And this Capelli wants to have the other two ministers killed? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Ponytail man nodded.

  “Bit harsh, isn’t it? Aren’t there other ways to veto a bill? Vote it down, hold meetings, lobby for change. Isn’t that what politicians do?”

  “I can’t speak for Capelli’s motivations. Each man knows intimately what drives him.”

  “What drives you?”

  “Truth.”

  “What’s your real name? I won’t call you The Cowboy.”

  “I don’t reveal—”

  She kicked him hard under the table.

  His hands rose and for a brief second his face changed then settled back. He set his hands on the tabletop.

  “I’d appreciate it if you stopped doing that.”

  “Fuck you.” She brought the gun above the table. The cafe was empty and the woman behind the counter had gone in the back. “Someone showed up at my hotel in Rome and shot the man I came to Italy with. Government officials are hiring Mafia hit men. You’re following me. I see a cowboy in Rome, but you’re claiming to be him.” She sipped the end of her cappuccino. “And you want to be evasive? Well, fuck you. I get the answers I want or I send you to the hospital or morgue. You’ll get out in a few weeks. By then all this will be over and I’ll be back home, a glass of wine in my hand. Get it? Answers or morgue. At least I’m giving you options. Can’t say that about those four thugs who tried to kill us an hour ago.”

  “My name is Frank De Luca.”

  He decided to give her his real name because no one knew it. The more he lied the more he would have to lie to keep covering it up.

  That last kick almost made him dive across the table and wrap his hands around her throat.

  He couldn’t play around anymore. It was time to lay it out and then catch her off guard. She would have to use the bathroom soon. She would walk back into town with him. She would do something that would unwittingly give him the upper hand and then he would strike and when he did, she would feel it.

  The hospital or the morgue?

  It’ll be morgue for you, bitch.

  Sometime within the next hour or so, he would kill her. He’d jab the cappuccino spoon in her eye if he had to.

  I’m going to enjoy that moment.

  Sarah saw something in his eyes change. A determination. Something that made her yearn for contact from Vivian.

  Where have you been, Vivian?

  She wouldn’t shoot him in the cafe unless he made her. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t The Cowboy at this point. But who was he then? Kierian’s executioner? And why did those men show up at the Internet spot and shoot at him? If she was their intended target, then why put Ponytail man in danger?

  He shot and killed three of the four men at Infomatica. She could safely say they weren’t working together. So who was he and who did he work for?

  Was Marconi really going to be in Umbertide at a restaurant called Capitone in five or six hours?

  There were too many questions and no one she trusted to give her the right answers.

  Except Vivian.

  It was time to get paper and pen and be alone for a while. Either Vivian offered some divine wisdom or Sarah would be completely lost.

  “Get up,” she ordered.
>
  “Why? Where are we going?”

  “You’re getting on the next train out of Umbertide.”

  “What? Why? Where am I going?”

  “I said get up.”

  He got to his feet slowly. “But I came to help you with this case. Why would you send me away?”

  “Stop with the act or I’ll shoot you for persisting in the lie you’re living.”

  “But I’m not lying—”

  She rushed him, grabbed his throat with her free hand and brought the gun up to his temple. His back smacked into the cafe’s window.

  “You’re lying to me. Stop talking or I’ll stop you. My tolerance level is very low today. Any other day I might have laughed at your stupid attempt to act like a journalist, but today is not that day.”

  His eyes took on an evil she had only seen in murderers like Armond Stuart and Death, the leader of a violent street gang. It was like his eyes took on a redness all of their own.

  She almost shot him in the head to make the world a better place.

  “You’ll get on that train and leave town,” she said. “How it works is, if I see you again, I kill you. That’s it. Plain and simple. I don’t bluff.”

  He nodded ever so slightly.

  She pulled the gun away, let go of his throat and stepped back.

  “Now move.”

  She followed him out and down to the train station, the gun tucked away, hidden, her hand remaining firm on the butt of the weapon.

  At the train station she bought a ticket for Sansepolcro. The train was coming in five minutes.

  “Any last words?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Too afraid to say anything?”

  “Just saddened that you don’t believe me. I’m here to help.”

  “I’m not the psychic one, my sister is. But I predict you’ll return even though I’m warning you against it. I predict that I’ll kill you and you won’t like that very much.”

  He looked down the track, avoiding her eyes.

  “If you’re really The Cowboy, you won’t come back because you’re not welcome here. I know what I need to know to end this and I couldn’t live with myself if the innocent journalist got hurt. But if you’re not The Cowboy, you’ll return because someone hired you to do a job and that job isn’t done.”

  He looked back at her, squinting in the sun.

  “Therefore,” she continued, “if you return to Umbertide, you’re my enemy.” She leaned in close, tightened her jaw and clenched her teeth. “I hate my enemies,” she said. “Settle your affairs before you come back because you won’t make it in this city an hour if you do. Clear?”

  The train came around the corner. He got up slowly, took the proffered ticket and walked to where the train would stop.

  Without saying a word, he got on and took a seat. The doors closed and the train left the station heading north.

  Sarah ran from the station. She had plans for tonight’s dinner with Marconi.

  She also had to get a cell phone. She needed the Internet so she could read one of The Cowboy’s articles, maybe find a picture of him.

  But most of all she needed a hotel room where she could rest and wait for Vivian.

  Everything counted on whether or not Vivian got in touch with her.

  Everything.

  Chapter 31

  Frank waited until the train stopped in Città Di Castello before he got off. He found a pay phone and called his driver. A half hour later, his car showed up. Inside he had a new cell phone and a choice of five different handguns.

  Killing Sarah was going to be an immense pleasure. There was nothing left to do but finish the job he was hired for.

  He ordered his driver to turn around and head back to Umbertide. He was a good driver who didn’t ask questions. He didn’t care that Frank was in Città Di Castello. All he cared about was the phone attached to his hip, and when it rang, he drove to get Frank and he made a shitload of money being wherever Frank wanted him to be.

  He would wait for Sarah to show up at the restaurant Capitone to kill her and Marconi, but he couldn’t be sure she would show.

  He loaded three handguns, holstered two of them, stuck the third in his pants and watched the countryside as it passed his windows.

  Won’t Sarah be surprised when his face was the last thing she saw?

  Twenty minutes, Sarah. Twenty minutes and I’ll be back in Umbertide. Let’s see how tough you are with a dozen bullets in you.

  Chapter 32

  Sarah couldn’t buy a cell phone, which was infuriating. It was explained to her in broken English that in order to buy a cell phone she had to have either an Italian tax number, which residents had, or a passport with a local address where she was staying.

  Since the Internet store was closed for the investigation and repairs, she had no way of getting in touch with Parkman or finding out what was happening with Aaron.

  She didn’t want to be called every time a hit man was hired to kill someone somewhere in the world. What happened in foreign countries was beyond her scope. When she returned home, she would have to make a new rule to only work with Vivian in North America. No more cops or law officials. Otherwise she would be traveling the world and never having any sort of life. If she allowed it, she would be kidnapped by the job and completely taken over.

  She walked the length of the main piazza, watching the restaurant where Marconi was supposed to be in a few hours.

  Instead of dwelling on what had happened up until now, she had to stay proactive. She needed to identify Marconi, see him with her own eyes and maybe have a sit down with him. The man claiming to be The Cowboy would return. He said his name was Frank, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t shoot people because she felt like it. When he returned and posed a threat, he would be dealt with. In the meantime, she had two weapons, thanks to Darwin and Frank.

  A change in appearance was necessary. It seemed everyone recognized her wherever she went.

  At just after six in the evening, she left the small piazza where Ristorante Capitone was located and made her way out of the center of town where she stopped at a Conad, a small grocery store. Inside, she found all the supplies she would need to disguise herself.

  Now she just needed a restroom. With bag in hand, she walked to Antico Caffè and entered their restroom. She used a shaver to shave only one side of her head up around the left ear. Then she added color to her hair and applied dark eye shadow.

  When she was done, she brushed her hair out and cleaned up as best as she could. Only two people knocked on the door during the entire time she monopolized the bathroom.

  She was now ready for the evening.

  It wasn’t mobsters, hit men, or cowboys that scared her. What scared her most was not hearing from Vivian.

  Why, Vivian?

  The mirror reflected an image she didn’t recognize. The black eye shadow rode her eyes horizontally to her temple. The red coloring in her hair didn’t come out auburn as she had hoped. It was reddish-orange, like the color of a ripe tomato.

  At least I’ll stand out.

  Now she needed a dress. She threw everything out in Antico’s restroom garbage and left in search of a long dress for tonight’s dinner.

  Vivian, I could use you here. What’s my play?

  With Aaron in jail, no ally in Italy, her name on their hit list, whoever they were, and every authority in the country looking for her, she didn’t have much hope in things working out. But walking away was never an option.

  No, this job looked like it might be her last.

  If they don’t kill me first.

  Chapter 33

  Frank had his driver stop the car under a large tree in a park off one of the main roads in Umbertide. While he slept in the backseat, he instructed his driver to go for a walk and return with food by six in the evening.

  At 6:30 p.m., Frank was rested, his stomach content, and he was ready. He grabbed a black jacket from the trunk and opened the spare tire compartment.
A black box sat where the spare tire was supposed to be. He typed a code into the black box’s keypad and opened the lid. Inside he found what he was looking for.