The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9 Read online

  Darwin frowned.

  “It says …” Rosina cleared her throat and read the note to him.

  “Oh …” Darwin said. “That’s some freaky shit.”

  “I know. I didn’t know what to do with it when I first read the note.”

  Darwin wiped his face and rubbed his thighs a couple of times. “I got goose bumps. Wow, and that’s supposedly from her dead sister?”

  Rosina nodded.

  “I can’t do that. If I was killed—”

  “Would her sister send you to your death?”

  “Has she sent Sarah to her death?” Darwin countered.

  Rosina looked at the note.

  “Not if I’m reading this correctly. If this note is accurate, then Sarah is still alive and needs our help.”

  Darwin shook his head and got up. “Rosina, what she’s asking is too much.” He walked to the sink and poured his coffee down the drain. “I can’t risk everything we’ve accomplished here. Even for Sarah.”

  “What happens if we don’t help her? What would our world look like without Sarah Roberts out there?”

  “I don’t know, but we can’t save everybody.”

  “We’re not being asked to save everybody. Just one girl.”

  Darwin walked to the kitchen door and stopped to look back. “Rosina, think about Bradley.”

  “I have.”

  Darwin walked down the corridor toward his office. Over his shoulder he said, “I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 39

  Voices arguing. Men’s voices. One with an Italian accent, the other two recognizable.

  Parkman?

  “I understand,” the Italian voice said. He sounded quite angry. “The only way she leaves this hospital is in cuffs. Then it’s the airport. I want her out of my city and out of my country.”

  “Please, you’re being unreasonable,” the other voice said.

  Who the hell is that?

  “We all know she didn’t do what you think she did.”

  “I had officers who attended the scene,” the Italian voice said. “They were shot at before the explosion. She destroyed an entire section of my ancient walled city. Don’t lecture me that it’s all over because Sam Marconi is dead. There are easier ways to kill a man.”

  “But she didn’t—”

  “I’m not finished,” the Italian cut in. “I have a waiter and a cook who were ordered out of their kitchen at gunpoint. According to them, she said she was going to kill them. And let’s not forget the destruction of the Internet store earlier in the day. Witnesses there say a car raced away with your red-haired maniac here shooting at them and murdering three business men in suits who, as far as we know, were just stopping by to get online. She was a blonde then. This red hair was an obvious way for her to go unnoticed. I’ve been an officer for too many years to play in the kiddy park with the likes of you.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, we don’t know if they attacked first. At the restaurant, she could’ve ordered those men out of the kitchen to save their lives and she shot at your officers to stop their approach. She probably saved their lives.”

  “It is of no interest to me what your theories are. I have statements, witness accounts. I have proof and I have bullets and shell casings that match. I also have dozens of local officers who don’t want her here. If she doesn’t leave this room in cuffs, and leave my country, I will order her shot on sight. Are we clear? Does this get through to your American way of thinking?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You all ride in here and shoot my city up. Then you complain when I ask you to stop. She destroys historical buildings and kills people, and you’re upset with us when we ask again for you to stop. I’m done with this. We’ll solve our own problems. We don’t need your help anymore.”

  A door opened.

  “McPherson,” an Italian voice again, “leave as soon as you can and take her with you or face dire consequences.”

  “You don’t have the authority. We were asked to be here by an official who outranks you. We leave when he tells us to.”

  “Your choice. But this is my city. Stay out of sight. Get lost, as you Americans say.” The door slammed shut.

  She jolted in her bed at the sound.

  “How about we play a game of fuck off? You go first.”

  “How mature, McPherson,” Parkman said. “He can’t hear you. He’s already gone.”

  McPherson? Or Kierian?

  Sarah opened her eyes.

  Two men stood by the door. They both turned around at the same time. Parkman was on the left and the other man was a dead man.

  “Kierian?” Sarah said.

  He raised his hands in defense.

  “What?” Sarah said. “You’re … alive? I thought you died in Rome.”

  “I can explain.”

  “Kierian?” Parkman asked. “I thought you said your name was McPherson?”

  “It is.” He looked between them. “I was using the name Kierian for so long it just became my name.”

  “Who are you?” Sarah asked.

  “My name is Scott McPherson. I don’t work for the FBI.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Sarah said. She looked at Parkman. “Hey, you got a gun? This guy died in Rome. Can you shoot him for me? No one will miss him. He’s supposed to be dead.”

  Parkman moved closer.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Kierian said. “Let me explain.”

  “Start talking,” Parkman said. “I warned you about this. Nobody messes with her. You lied to me once already today.”

  “And I explained how necessary that was.”

  “Start talking and start telling. She has a right to know why the Italian authorities hate her.”

  Kierian moved to the side of the bed. Her pulse quickened. She wanted to rip the IV from her arm and wrap the cord around his neck until his eyes popped out.

  “First,” she said. “Tell me about my injuries. How bad?”

  “Not bad at all. Mostly bruising, cuts and scrapes. You took a nasty hit to the head. A severe concussion, maybe swelling on the brain. Doctors induced a coma for a few days until you were in the clear.”

  “Am I in the clear now?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “How long have I been out? Did the GMO conference take place?”

  “You’ve been out all week. The conference happens tomorrow afternoon. But that doesn’t matter. You’re not going anywhere near that place.”

  “Whatever. Talk to me. Explain your ass away. Then I’m out of here.”

  “You’re not going anywhere but to the airport.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not. I’m royally pissed and I know the man who needs to pay for this. We had coffee together the other day and now he has to die.”

  “You had coffee together?” Kierian asked. “Shit, I’d hate to have lunch with you.”

  “Stop with the routine and tell us what’s going on,” Parkman shouted.

  Kierian jumped at Parkman’s voice and then pulled a chair over and straddled it backwards.

  “I don’t work for the FBI. I work with a branch of the CIA—we’re almost rogue, really. We do intelligence work and gather what we can to confirm certain ambiguities the CIA have encountered. When data stored at the warehouse of the Sophia Project came across my desk, I put in for a transfer to monitor you. My old partner and I were assigned to see if there was anything to their claims.”

  Sarah remembered the Sophia Project clearly, and their failed attempts to recruit her until their organization was dissolved. She had no idea it would come back to haunt her.

  “This was an intelligence gathering mission,” Kierian said. “You and I were supposed to meet The Cowboy in Rome, and then come here. Learn what we could and report back.”

  “So why fake your death?”

  “When you went out for a walk early that first morning in Rome, the contact who dropped the gun off the night before called me. He said my room was being watched by Marco
ni’s men. We decided the best plan was to have me killed in a public fashion so The Cowboy would see it as well as the man watching the room. I contacted the authorities in Rome and told them to pick you up. I would debrief you then and we’d grab The Cowboy together. Our plan was flawless. Once we learned everything we could, we would travel back to Toronto and your end of things was done. The trained authorities would swoop in and pick Marconi up. But no one expected you to run.”

  “I don’t trust cops.”

  “Yeah, you’ve said that before.” Kierian face wrinkled as he winced. “But that has cost us now. You came to Umbertide, the last place on earth I thought you’d go, to the heart of the GMO conference, and killed Marconi and his henchmen. I don’t know how you did it or where you got the bombs, but every cop outside this room wouldn’t bat an eye if you didn’t make it out of here alive.”

  “I didn’t plant those bombs.”

  “Then who did? Marconi?”

  “A man named Frank De Luca.”

  Kierian’s eyes widened. His gaze swiveled to Parkman and then back to Sarah.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why?”

  “Frank De Luca is a ghost. No one has seen him in years. He works in the shadows. We have a large file on him. He’s Norwegian. The only people who have ever seen him are dead. Frank is the name he’s known by because most of his hits are sourced by the Mafia. He’s a perfectionist. He has never missed.”

  “And he didn’t this time. His target was Marconi.”

  “How do you know this?” Kierian looked astounded, his mouth agape.

  “I told you. We had coffee.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Tell me about Toronto,” Sarah said, changing the subject. “Was the attack on Aaron’s apartment you too?” She looked down at her body, examining her wounds. She flexed her fingers, moved her toes and lifted her legs. A soft pain flared everywhere, but just as Kierian had said, nothing was broken. Her head ached, but that was expected after body checking a stone wall.

  “Toronto was us,” Kierian admitted.

  Sarah decided in that one sentence that she was going to kill the man she knew as Special Agent Penn Kierian.

  “You motherfucker,” she whispered. “You will pay for that.”

  “We had to up the schedule. I also wanted you prepared for how serious people like Marconi are. My superiors were worried I was walking an untrained civilian into trouble. I set the exercise up to show them how good you were.”

  “The men with blanks … that was all you and your people?”

  He nodded. “All us.”

  “What about the man who got shot? Did he really get shot?”

  “Not by me. That first shot I took was a blank. He had a blood packet in his hand connected to my gun’s trigger by remote control. The gun Aaron grabbed was actually the officer’s sidearm.”

  “So Aaron actually shot the man?”

  “Yes, and fucked up his windshield. He just got out of the hospital the other day.”

  “And Aaron?” Parkman cut in. “He’s stuck in jail on first degree murder charges. Is that why it’s so hush hush?”

  “Yes. Those charges are to keep him protected while we are over here. As soon as we land in Toronto, all charges will be expunged from the record as if they didn’t happen. Not even an arrest record. But nothing changes until Sarah is on Canadian soil.”

  “So that’s why Agent Hanover couldn’t find anything on an agent named Kierian,” Parkman said.

  “Wow, you’ve really done a number on me and my family.” Sarah rolled her head across the pillow. “Get me a phone. I gotta call home.”

  Parkman padded his pockets. “Oh yeah.” He looked at Kierian. “You took my cell.”

  “I’m afraid no one can go anywhere or call anyone until this thing is over.”

  “So you’re going to let Aaron rot in jail and my parents think I’m in trouble, or worse?”

  “Sarah,” Parkman stepped closer. “They know I’m here to identify your body. They think you’re dead.”

  Her eyes welled up in tears. “Kierian, you better fix this. Right fucking now. Or I will.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. A man like Frank De Luca has an army working for him. Nothing changes until after the weekend. This GMO conference has to happen as planned. The authorities have a police guard placed outside your door. You can’t leave this room until Monday. It’s for your own good. Especially knowing that Frank De Luca is local.”

  Sarah pulled the IV out of her arm and yanked the white bed sheet off. “Because Frank is in town is the reason I need out of here.”

  “Sarah, you can’t,” Kierian got up and stood in front of her. Parkman moved in.

  “Everyone relax,” Sarah shouted. “Kierian, you’ve got him to ID my body.” She pointed at Parkman. “Declare me dead. My parents already think so, anyway. Then I go after Frank and the man who hired him.”

  “You know who hired Frank?”

  “Yes, I do.” She wavered on her feet, dizzy, her legs weak from being in bed for so long. She held the bed’s rail for a second until it passed.

  “You okay, Sarah?” Parkman asked, stepping closer.

  “Yes, just got up too fast.”

  “Who hired De Luca?” Kierian asked.

  “None of your business. Get me out of here and I’ll tell you. Then I can go after De Luca and you can go after his boss.”

  “No deal. Even if I liked the idea. Even if I saw great success with it, I couldn’t agree to it.” He looked at Parkman. “You heard the senior officer of the State Police. He said he would send out a ‘shoot on sight’ order if Sarah leaves this room.” He looked back at Sarah. “It would be a death sentence for you to leave this room. The funeral your parents are no doubt planning would actually have a body for the coffin if you go out that door.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Sarah said.

  “Then you’ll die.”

  “You’ve fucked with me since we met, Kierian. You’ve lied to me, had Aaron arrested, and now my parents think I’m dead, all because of you. Stand in my way, please. Try to stop me.” She stepped toward him. “So I can hurt you bad. Because right now I can’t think of anything I would like more than to rip your face off and use the skin as a lamp shade.”

  “Sarah, that’s creepy,” Parkman said.

  “I know, sorry. Couldn’t think of anything worse right now.”

  “Who fucked your hair up?” Parkman asked. “You look like you belong on the ‘People of Wal-Mart’ website.”

  “Nice. Thanks, dickweed.”

  “Love you, too, Sarah.”

  She smiled at him and tapped his shoulder, more for support to keep standing.

  “Sarah, think about this,” Kierian said as he stepped backwards.

  A second wave of dizziness swept over her. She teetered and then stumbled. Before hitting the hospital floor, Parkman’s arms came in fast and eased her down.

  Then she was out.

  Chapter 40

  Darwin entered a side door of the Umbertide hospital. Vivian’s note, authored by Sarah, had asked him to do a couple of things. After talking with his wife, she had convinced him. They could never forgive themselves if something happened to Sarah because they failed to act when she needed them the most.

  Whether it was the dead sister Sarah had talked about, or Sarah herself, the note had said to come at five sharp in the morning and cause a distraction on the third floor. Just enough to pull the police officer from the door.

  Darwin reached the third floor without being stopped by the minimal hospital staff at this early hour. He had worn one of his many wigs and felt his disguise would never reveal who he really was if they had him on camera.

  A guard outside the hospital room the note referred to sat reading a newspaper, a small coffee cup on the floor beside his chair.

  Darwin took his jacket off and limped down the hall. He wore shorts and a tank top so his multiple scars were exposed.

  Wh
en he was fifteen feet away, the officer looked up.

  “Tutto bene?” the cop asked.

  “No,” Darwin said, a pained expression on his face. “I’m not okay.” He leaned against the wall and breathed heavily. Then he continued, waving the cop to help support him. “I need your help.”