He went down almost to the park entrance and came back, studying the scene from a different angle. He walked down the Spanish Steps to the second level and leaned against the balustrade. It was all going to be over one way or the other in thirty minutes. He looked down at the bottom of the steps, always more crowded than the top, people sitting in rows, side by side like they were at a concert, people standing around Fontana della Barcaccia, the boat-shaped fountain, and more people crisscrossing Piazza di Spagna, heading for the shops. There were carriages lined up and he caught the faint odor of horse manure. There were flower vendors and photographers and black merchants selling jewelry, bags and sunglasses.
The Spanish Steps had to be at least one hundred yards from top to bottom, and maybe fifty yards from side to side. He thought they would come from the top. It was a better vantage point, and it was easier to go down than up.
3:48, Joey stood at the bottom of the Spanish Steps, the lower level packed with people, eyes going left to right. He looked up at the balcony on the second level, half a dozen tourists standing there, too far away to recognize. He was more relaxed now after getting out of the hotel, sure he'd lost the agent, and there was no way he was going back. It was time to get out of Rome, too. That's why the ransom money was more important than ever. He had a couple hundred grand in a Swiss account, but it wasn't enough. This was his stake in the future. He'd called Sharon and told her to pack her bag and meet him at the train station, the main terminal, at five.
"First tell me what's going on?" Sharon had said. "You were supposed to come back and get me. We were going to have lunch. Where are you?"
"I can't talk right now," Joey said. "I'll tell you later. Just meet me at the train station. Bring your things and bring mine. There's a bag in the closet."
"Where we going?" Sharon said.
"It's a surprise," Joey said. "For once just do what I ask and don't say anything, okay?" Didn't mention Ray. What was the point? If he was still at the hotel, and that was a good possibility, he might run into Sharon and she'd have to deal with him. Jesus, why was Joey taking all the heat?
He walked up the Spanish Steps, moving along the eastern wall that curved all the way to the top. On his right was an apartment building with an entrance on the square below. Joey had checked it out, walked from top to bottom a couple times earlier that afternoon and noticed the balcony of a second-floor apartment that was only a couple feet from the wall. Christ he could jump to it. He felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket and took it out, heard Mazara say they were ready, everybody in position. Joey looked up and saw McCabe standing at the second balcony.
3:52, Psuz rested the barrel of an old bolt-action Beretta 501 on top of the metal railing that went around the penthouse patio, seven floors up, looking down at the Spanish Steps. Put the scope on Joey walking up, angled it to the right, saw McCabe at the balcony. Adjusted the scope, put the crosshairs on McCabe's back about seventy-five meters below him, adjusted again, closing on his head. Psuz could take the shot, drop him, he would never know what happened. But Joey said to wait, make sure he had the money, and also Angela.
It was Joey's idea to have him on the roof of the building. "Psuz, you really a sniper?" Joey said to him. "Let's see how good you are."
But he also had an idea. After his time in the army he had worked for Italgas. He went there, the main office in Rome, and took a uniform from the locker room. First, he was thinking of going in the bell towers at Trinita dei Monti, but to get up there he'd have to go through the convent next door and that would be difficult. There were procedures to follow when dealing with the Catholic Church. So instead he chose the apartment building across Via Sistina from the Hassler Hotel.
In the uniform it was easy to enter with his tool bag, and ride the elevator to the penthouse apartment, ring the buzzer, and when the man opened the door, tell him there was gas leaking in the apartment and the occupants, for their safety, must vacate immediately.
3:57, McCabe saw Joey coming up the steps toward him, breathing hard, gut bouncing under a loose-fitting island shirt with hula dancers on it. "I'd say you're the one in the wrong business."
"We'll see," Joey said. "We all get lucky once in a while. Don't we? I wouldn't count on it happening again."
"You never know," McCabe said.
"Where's my cuz at?"
McCabe pointed to the balcony of the terrace restaurant just above them on the west side of the steps. Angela was standing at the railing. Joey looked at her and waved.
"Where's Chip?"
"Right up there," Joey nodded, indicating the top of the steps, the street level. "Let's do it."
They started up, McCabe leading the way. When they got to the top, Joey glanced at him and said, "I've got a surprise for you."
McCabe could see Mazara standing in front of the silver Opel, and Sisto standing at the rear. Was he talking about them?
Joey said, "Look over there, " nodding at the roof of a yellow apartment building rising above them on the right.
He saw someone on the rooftop.
"Know who that is? My little buddy Psuz, turns out he was a sniper in the Italian army. You believe that?" Joey grinned, thinking he was back in control. "Do anything even remotely stupid he's going to punch your ticket, put you out of business. We're going to let you see Chipper, then I want you to hand me the money and walk away, don't say another word."
McCabe moved closer to the car, saw Noto behind the wheel, watching him. Sisto popped the trunk and he saw Chip, bound, gagged and curled up in the fetal position. Chip looked up at him, tried to say something, but Sisto slammed the lid closed. He noticed the little square in front of the Hassler was empty, the taxis and Beverage/Gelati truck were gone.
"I've got a surprise for you too," McCabe said, eyeing Joey. He could see Captain Ferarra and three of his men coming toward them from the left, moving up the street.
4:02, Arturo was walking along Via Sistina flanked by Luciano and Gattuso. Next to Gattuso was Borri, a giant at six feet four inches tall. They were coming up next to the convent, the building that joined Trinita dei Monti. Traffic had been stopped on Via Sistina and diverted down Via Gregoriana. The street was deserted.
McCabe had phoned headquarters earlier that afternoon, and Luciano had reached him at his apartment, calling as he was leaving to spend the afternoon with his wife, Arturo trying to make up for the last time he had to cancel his plans, the day they found McCabe's rental car. His wife Teresa was an understanding woman but this was testing her patience.
Luciano explained what he knew. The same gang that kidnapped McCabe now had Chip Tallenger. The ransom exchange was to take place today, 4:00 at the Spanish Steps. The question Arturo had asked himself: where was McCabe, and if he was in trouble, why did he wait so long to contact the police?
He could see the silver Opel sedan parked next to the balustrade at the top of the Spanish Steps, and the men standing next to it. He could see four GIS moving along Via Sistina, approaching from the opposite direction. And then McCabe appeared coming up the steps, carrying a soccer bag, standing next to a bigger heavier man. He saw the sniper on the rooftop, and was bringing the cell phone to his mouth when he heard a rifle shot.
"He hands me the soccer bag shoot him," Joey had said to him. But McCabe did not give the soccer bag to Joey, and Joey was standing close to him, so close he did not have a clear shot. Psuz noticed something else. It was quiet now. No traffic. No car had driven by on the street for some time. He aimed the scope along Via Sistina and understood why. There were police coming, four from the left and four from the right. He put the cross hairs of the scope on one of the men in a suit jacket, running past the church, squeezed the trigger, heard the crack of the rifle echo off the rooftop and saw him fall. He worked the bolt and aimed for a second man, but he was moving, they all were, taking cover behind the stairway that led to the church and he did not have another target.