“Do you know where from?”
“They’re landing at a small airstrip in La Spezia and Sam Reilly’s going to make his own way there.”
Andre grinned. “Then I’ll just have to make sure to beat him there.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sam asked, “Do you have a car here?”
Catarina frowned. “I don’t have one. But you can borrow my motorcycle.”
“You ride a bike?”
“Always have. Don’t you remember?” She smiled. “Of course, you don’t remember.”
Sam grinned. “Can I ride it?”
“Sure.” She grabbed a set of keys and passed them to him. “Go for it.”
He smiled. “No. I mean, do I know how to ride it?”
She nodded. “Yeah. You can ride a motorcycle all right.”
“Thanks.” Sam paused. “I don’t think I can get it back to you. I’ll leave it somewhere near the airstrip at La Spezia. Is there any way you’ll be able to reach it?”
“Yeah. There’s a secret key safe beneath the fuel tank. Just make sure you leave the keys there and I’ll come pick it up in the morning.”
“Thanks. Really, I mean it.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “Come on, I’ll walk you to where it’s parked. What are you going to do about the suitcase?”
“Good question. I forgot about that. I can’t exactly carry it on the motorcycle.”
“Wait here, I have a backpack you can have.”
Sam smiled. “Thanks. Again. I’ll get it back to you if I manage to survive.”
Catarina returned a few seconds later with a small backpack. Sam opened the suitcase and quickly transferred its contents into the backpack. He zipped up the backpack and threw it over his shoulders, making sure to connect and tighten the waist straps.
Sam opened the door and stepped outside.
It was heading into midafternoon. He breathed deeply, taking in the warm sea breeze. It felt good. He felt good. Things were far from making sense, but at least they were coming together. He had been on a mission when something went wrong. Someone intentionally erased his memory. Whoever that was, and why, could still be worked out. The important thing was that he would be meeting Tom Bower soon and would learn the truth.
He held Catarina’s hand affectionately as he strolled down the masonry path and stairs that meandered down to the roadway behind the set of buildings. He forced himself to stroll, taking on the appearance of a romantic couple on vacation, instead of a fugitive on the run for his life.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, turned east onto Via M. Caratino, making their way through the narrow street, heading uphill toward the city’s communal carpark.
Far behind them, and still high up on the masonry steps, back where they had come from, two people began to follow them. One was a big guy, the other a woman. He couldn’t make out a lot from the distance. But even at a glance, both moved with the speed and agility of professional soldiers. They might have been walking to catch a bus, but had that been the case, there was no reason for them to pick up speed and purpose, as soon as they had spotted him.
They were making a beeline straight for him.
No. One thing was certain, whoever they were, they were after him.
Sam’s eyes darted between his pursuers and Catarina. “Don’t suppose they’re friends of yours?”
“Afraid not. Any chance they might be yours?”
“Not a chance in hell. Tom Bower said that he’d meet me on the aircraft.”
“Then I suggest we get a move on.”
“Agreed. How much farther to your bike?”
“Not far. Come on, we’ll cut through this alleyway to the main street.”
Sam followed Catarina as they both picked up their pace to a run. Behind them, the big guy and the girl started to run.
Catarina said, “Through here!”
“I see it!” Sam said, as they ducked beneath a sandstone archway, cutting across the back of the Pizzeria Lercari Ercole — a pizza restaurant — and turned right onto Via Roma.
They entered the main street. Sam forced himself to slow to a fast walk to try to avoid drawing too much attention to them.
He scanned the Via Roma as they headed uphill.
The last train had left more than an hour ago, leaving the city nearly tourist free and almost deserted compared to the throng of people in the street earlier in the day.
To their left, they passed an old man parked on the side of the cobbled street. He was struggling to get his ascot green, 1972 Lancia Montecarlo Coupe started. Like everyone else who visited or lived in the small coastal village of Vernazza, he’d probably left the car as soon as he’d arrived, and was now suffering the consequence of its disuse. Behind them some polizia were walking briskly their way, coming from the harbor to the south. Up ahead, stationed at the entrance to the communal carpark, were two men loitering, wearing overcoats and smoking cigarettes.
There was no way any normal person would be wearing overcoats in Vernazza during its summer months.
Sam’s eyes darted left to right.
He was searching for a way around the two most likely threats.
There were none.
He could turn around, but that meant dealing with the big guy and woman with him, who were clearly following them. It also meant they were more likely to be confronted by the polizia.
Catarina said, “Two o’clock. Do you see them?”
Sam kept moving. “I see them.”
“They sure as hell don’t look like they belong here.”
“I agree,” Sam said, without slowing his stride.
“What do you want to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Something will come up.”
She took a surreptitious glance behind her. The polizia had picked up their pace, the big guy and the woman were closing the gap. “We’re running out of options. Do we keep going or turn around? It’s your call.”
“Keep going,” Sam said, his voice emphatic. “We’re going to have to deal with someone. May as well keep heading in the right direction while we do it.”
“Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Sam grinned. “Not a clue, but I’m sure something will come up. It usually does.”
“Oh yeah?” She arched her eyebrow. “That’s very reassuring coming from a guy who’s lost his memory.”
Sam didn’t make a response.
He kept walking past the two men in overcoats, through the sandstone arch, and into the underground carpark. He met the first man in the overcoat’s eye and gave a firm nod as acknowledgement. There was instant recognition in the man’s face, but no movement.
Sam gritted his teeth and kept walking.
The parking lot was underground.
They had only made it fifteen feet before the sound of trailing footsteps echoed behind them.
Sam turned to greet his attackers.
Both men had their handguns drawn. Glock 19s.
Sam reached for his handgun. But it was too late. The smaller of the two men said, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
Sam paused, his hand just about on the weapon’s handle. He relaxed his fingers so they came free, and distanced his hand from the weapon. The big guy behind him quickly removed the handgun and stepped back so that he wasn’t close enough for Sam to reach.
“Good decision.” The man closest to him said, “Now, Mr. Reilly, I think you’d better come with us.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam turned the palms of his hands skyward. “Hey guys, do I know you?”
“No, but my boss knows you. He seems to think that you have something that belongs to him in that suitcase.”