The gate number for Sam’s flight flashed up on the screen. He shouldered his bag and set off. It was not a large airport, and it did not take him long to reach the waiting area by the gate marked Frankfurt. He took a seat, opened his magazine and pretended to read, turning pages occasionally while stealing frequent, furtive glances round the area.
Sure enough, within a couple of minutes of Sam sitting down, the security guard appeared again. He walked with a steady, measured pace, looking around indifferently, then when he reached Sam’s gate he stopped and stood with his hands on his belt, taking in the scene before him.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Sam decided. ‘If that guy is following me, there’s no way I’m getting away from him. I’ve got another fifteen minutes before they start boarding. I’m stuck here until then. I can’t run from him or I’ll get shot, and if I wait it out he’ll just have his mates waiting for me beyond the gate to spirit me away to some other part of the airport and then god knows where. I’m going to find out one way or the other.’
Heedless of his bag, Sam stood up and started walking directly towards the security guard. He did not attempt to make eye contact through the dark glasses, and he moderated his step so that it could not be perceived as threatening. He settled for a leisurely, tourist-like amble, but on a direct and unmistakable path towards the guard.
As he got within range Sam’s whole body tensed, adrenaline beginning to course through his system. There would be fight or flight. There would be an end to this matter. His steps quickened slightly. His breathing grew faster and more ragged.
The security guard strolled away, straight past Sam, past the gate, and disappeared in the crowd. Sam stopped, confused. ‘Was that… Did I really just imagine all of that?’ he asked himself. ‘I was so sure that he was after me…’
Feeling like an idiot, he returned to his seat and stared at his magazine until it was time to board. He looked around once more as he stepped through the door towards the plane, filled with a bizarre combination of hope that the security guard would not be there so that Sam would know that he was safe, and hope that he would be so that Sam would be vindicated.
He was not there. Sam skulked onto the plane and thought himself lucky that no-one else had been there to witness the whole embarrassing incident.
Chapter Eleven
Since they had arrived in Florence, Nina had hoped that she would get a chance to visit the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo. She had never felt that she knew nearly enough about visual art, but museum visits had always made her feel calm and happy, bringing back memories of childhood and discovering the delights of history for the first time. Besides, being at liberty to wander around galleries and museums would mean that everything was resolved and she was now safe, which would have made her feel better than anything else.
Visiting under these circumstances, where the museum was simply a rendezvous point for her to collect her travel tickets from Matteus… it was not what she had hoped for. She wondered whether she would ever get the chance to visit again, or whether her days as a free woman were over and life on the run was all she would ever know.
Matteus was standing in front of Donatello’s Maddalena Penitente, a blank manila envelope in his hands, held casually behind his back. Nina walked straight up to him, greeted him in a politely formal way, accepted the envelope and walked away. Questions about her destination would not be answered until she was back downstairs, collecting her case from the cloakroom. While she waited for it to be fetched she slipped the printed tickets out and examined them. Stazione di Milano Centrale — Milan Central Station. Whether that was her destination or just a stop along the way, she did not know. All she knew was that she would be travelling by train, leaving from Santa Maria Novella that same evening.
As she stepped out of the museum into the early evening darkness, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Someone was lurking under the arches of the loggia of the adjacent building. Someone dressed in dark clothes, with a hood pulled up. The air was damp with the threat of rain, so it was possible that the hood was just a sensible precaution… but Nina could not see the person’s face, and it gave her a bad feeling. Unbidden, her mind threw up the image of the intruder who had broken in. Was the dark figure the same person? ‘Looks like the same height and build,’ Nina thought, ‘but that could just be my imagination. Just fear. Still, better safe than sorry. Time to get out of here.’
She quickly crossed the street, past the Duomo, along Via dei Cerretani towards Via Panzani. Not wanting to look round and risk letting anyone know that she thought she was being followed, she relied on reflections in darkened shop windows to tell her whether there was anyone on her tail. It was hard to be certain. There were plenty of people around, and many of them were wearing dark clothes. Without being able to stop and scrutinize, she could only go with her instinct — and her instinct was screaming at her to put it to the test, to find somewhere she could duck indoors and see whether the figure followed. Ahead of her, a middle-aged couple stepped through a lit door into a small church, apparently holding an evening service. ‘That will do,’ she thought, and followed them in.
The heavy oak door of the church closed with a muted thump behind Nina. A small congregation sat scattered throughout the pews, listening to the comforting drone of the priest. One or two turned to look at her reproachfully for missing the start of the service, so she assumed an air of contrition as she dipped her fingers in the stoup. She bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward to conceal her face and hurried as far towards the front as she dared.
She had no sooner taken her seat than she heard the door open again. A few seats away, one of the old men who had turned to look at her gave an irritated sigh, glaring first in her direction then at the newcomer. Nina forced herself to turn round, willing the new person to be someone she had never seen before, someone whose arrival at this time was entirely coincidental.
Her prayers were not answered. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she took in the long dark coat, the pulled-up hood and the trailing ponytail sitting over the shoulder. Even in the light of the church, she still could not tell whether the figure was a man or a woman. All she knew for certain was that she had not been imagining things. Whoever it was, this person was definitely following her.
She glanced around, hoping to see a side door that she could slip out of without her pursuer noticing, but there was nothing — or if there was, it was concealed behind the heavy gilt that adorned every surface. That same gilt reflected the light from the central aisle, meaning there was no chance of sneaking down the side aisles to reach the main door, and Nina felt sure that if she tried she would attract the attention of the disapproving worshippers whom she had already offended. They might not do or say anything beyond a sigh or tutting, but it would be enough to draw attention to her exit.
‘Looks like I’ll have to stay, then,’ Nina thought. ‘The service has to end at some point, and when it does I can ask the priest for help. There has to be another exit. If I can just persuade him to let me out that way, I can get myself into a taxi and be long gone by the time this person catches up.’ She glanced at her watch. 45 minutes before the train was due to leave. ‘I hope it’s not a long service…’