Three quarters of the way along the bays, one of the park-ups stands out.
A green Land Rover.
It’s noticeable not because it’s an exceptional vehicle, but because the windows have all misted up and the driver’s used a hand to wipe off the condensation to see through.
Thing is, it’s not the kind of street where there’s anything much to see.
Tom collapses his umbrella and moves to the driver’s side.
He knocks on the window.
It glides down about a third of the way.
He bends down and speaks English to a stern-looking man in his late twenties.
‘Excuse me, I’ve just locked myself out of my car.’ He gestures to the heavens. ‘Dumb, eh? Do you have a phone I can use to call my wife to come and bring some spare keys?’
The man frowns at him. ‘No.’
Behind him, in the darkness of the back seat, Tom can just make out another man. He’s sitting upright but struggling with something he’s holding down on his lap.
The window glides shut.
Tom bangs on it. ‘Hey! Come on, man, I need some help. I’m getting soaked.’
The glass glides back down.
The barrel of a gun pokes out of the blackness. ‘I said no! Now fuck off.’
98
The thin man in a long black trench coat smiles at Valentina. ‘Are you waiting for someone?’
He’s as charming as dozens of other deluded guys who’ve tried to chat her up over the years.
‘Yes, my boss.’ She shrugs at the rain. ‘I hope she hurries up.’
Trench Coat comes up close and from inside his pocket presses a gun against her left hip. ‘Don’t move and don’t scream.’ He’s lost his charm now. ‘If you do, then this church will have another martyr.’ He looks into her eyes, and when he sees the fear and compliance he’s looking for, he adds, ‘Where’s Anna?’
Valentina feigns panic. ‘Oh God, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.’
‘I don’t want to.’ He jabs the gun deeper into her side. ‘Where’s Anna? You’re supposed to have her with you.’
Valentina lifts her hand shakily and points through the archway at the end of the courtyard. ‘I took her back to the car because of the rain. She’s sick. Where’s Doctor Verdetti?’
Trench Coat ignores her and glances around.
‘Please don’t hurt me, I’ve done nothing wrong.’
The gun stays pressed into her left hip. ‘Keep your voice down! What kind of car is it and where did you park?’
Valentina stares at the ground as though she’s too frightened to look at him. ‘Fiat. It’s a blue Punto. It’s not far … er … just outside in the piazza, right opposite here.’ She keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. Two sets of male feet stop just off to the right of her.
‘Go get her,’ says Trench Coat. ‘Be quick!’
The feet disappear.
Valentina feels another push in her side.
‘We’re going inside the church to wait for a little while.’ He slides his body across hers so he’s face to face with her. ‘I’d hate you to get all cold and wet.’
She feels his hand move inside her jacket, slide beneath her jumper and grab her by the waist.
His touch revolts her.
She has to fight an impulse to drive her right knee so far into his testicles they’ll come out of his mouth.
Being closer allows him to pull the gun out of his right pocket and hold it flat against Valentina’s abdomen, barrel digging into her diaphragm.
He puts his face close to hers. From a distance they could be mistaken for lovers about to kiss. ‘My little friend here is itching to get inside you,’ he whispers in her ear as he moves the cold tip of the barrel against her warm skin. ‘I don’t blame him. It must be really nice inside you.’
Valentina takes a deep breath.
He mistakes it for fear. ‘Don’t be scared. If you do exactly as I tell you, then in less than twenty minutes all this will just be an awful memory.’
99
It’s not the first time Tom Shaman has looked down the barrel of a gun.
A gangbanger once pulled an Uzi in his church in LA and robbed the entire congregation. The kid was high on crystal meth and ended up getting shot on the church steps by a gang senior who’d come to pick his mother up from the service and found her screaming and terrified.
Tom learned two basic things from all those badasses back in Compton. Firstly, there are frequent shooters, guys who only draw guns when they’re going to fire them. Secondly, there are bluffers, posers who pull a weapon but have never let off a shot in their sorry little lives.
Tom figures the man behind the metal being pointed at him is not a frequent shooter. He’s a bluffer.
But of course, that’s only a guess.
A dangerous guess.
‘Whoa, mister!’ He throws up his hands. ‘I don’t want any trouble. I just needed some help.’ The big American backs away, hands high in the air. ‘Man, no one told me Rome was like this.’ He doesn’t leave the way he came, but heads down the vehicle towards the back.
He knows the guy’s watching in his wing mirror but figures that doesn’t matter. He’d have to be a contortionist to shoot over his left shoulder with the gun in his right hand.
Tom’s about to make his move and he knows he has to be fast.
He is.
He jerks the door open with his left hand, steps forward half a pace and cracks his elbow into the driver’s face. He reaches across him, grabs his gun hand and crashes it repeatedly into the steering wheel.
The screams tell him he’s broken the guy’s wrist.
The man in the back of the car makes his move.
He lurches forward and tries to swing a punch.
Tom grabs the fallen pistol off the driver’s lap and fires a shot into the roof of the car.
Gunfire has a special way of spooking people. Especially in closed spaces.
Louisa flings open a rear door and bolts for freedom.
Her minder slips out of the car and levels a pistol at Tom.
The two men stare down their guns at each other.
Off in the distance, Tom sees Louisa running for her life.
100
Valentina is under no illusion that being inside a church means she’s safe.
If her last case in Venice taught her anything, it’s that churches aren’t at all sacred when it comes to criminals and killers.
The guy in the black trench coat forces her into a pew and sits tight alongside her. ‘Kneel and pray. Don’t do anything stupid.’
Valentina does as she’s told.
She intertwines her fingers, bows her head and looks as reflective as any of the devout visitors around her.
Her mind is certainly on different things, though.
By now, it’s going to be obvious that there’s no Punto parked near the piazza and no Anna sitting patiently in it. And Tom will have discovered whether or not Louisa and her captors are in a car just around the corner.
For a second Valentina does what everyone else around her is doing: she prays. Prays that Tom is all right and that Louisa is still alive.
It’s the first time she’s been on her knees in church since her cousin died.
The phone in Trench Coat’s pocket rings.
He catches it quickly.
Valentina knows that in doing so, he’s taken his hand off the gun.
It’s her cue to stop trusting in the good Lord and do what she’s been trained to do.
She cups her hand behind Trench Coat’s head and smashes his face into the edge of the wooden pew.
All eyes are now on Valentina.