She did as he instructed and raised her hands. The man took a step away from her to increase the distance between them and raised the gun to point at her chest. “We’re going for a little walk.”
He waved the gun in the direction of the door and took another step back so there was at least six feet between them as she stepped out into the corridor. To say Toscano was giving off a bad vibe was the understatement of the century, so Lea was only too happy with the large space he was putting between them.
“So where are we going?” she asked.
“You will see soon enough.”
He ordered her along the corridor and then down a broad, sweeping staircase rendered in polished white marble. “So what was that screaming noise?” she said.
“I heard no screams,” Toscano said quietly. He sounded a little less cocky now.
They came to a set of heavy double doors and Toscano ordered her to stand still. She obeyed and then he stepped forward and knocked three times. A short pause, pregnant with serious tension, was ended when a deep, fat voice told them to come in.
Toscano straightened his tie and pushed open the door to reveal a large dining room. A long wooden table stretched away to the other end of the room. At the far end of the table, a heavy-set man in a suit was fiddling with a large sauce-stained buttonhole napkin which was hanging down from his collar.
With a mouth full of food, he sloppily waved Toscano and Lea into the room, as if he were greeting the oldest of friends. “Come closer.”
Toscano pushed her forward with a light nudge between her shoulders and she made her way toward the other man. As she drew closer to him she noticed that nestling among the elaborate table décor was a matte black pistol with a wooden grip which she recognized at once as a Pardini GT9. Beside it was the golden idol they had found in Maggie Donovan’s things, but no sign of the manuscript.
Closer now she saw he was just about to start eating a large lobster. It was sitting on a broad silver dinner plate surrounded by a lavish avocado and grapefruit salad. A second plate of lobster was at an empty seat beside him.
“Who are you and why have you brought me here?”
The man pulled off one of the lobster’s claws and held it in his hand for a moment. “Don’t you know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” she said defensively.
He picked up some metal crackers and broke open the lower part of the claw. “I am Giancarlo Zito.” He cracked open one of the knuckles and pushed out the meat with a wooden fork before sliding it into his mouth and chewing. He picked up the tail, pushed more meat out and began to peel it with the fork. Speaking with his mouth full of the lobster meat, he said, “Everyone around here knows my name.”
“I’m not from around here.”
He stared at her and nodded sagely. Dipping the tail meat into a bowl of hot water beside his dinner plate, he sighed loudly and then ate some more. This time he waited until he had finished before continuing. “You think I don’t know where you are from? My men took you off the streets of Dublin. I know where you are from. If you were from here, you wouldn’t be so relaxed right now.” He leaned forward in his chair and swigged from a generous glass of Viognier. “Are you not going to eat your lobster?”
Lea pushed the plate away. “I don’t seem to have an appetite. Being kidnapped by a bunch of hoodlums does that to a girl.”
“Such a shame — this is Maine lobster I had flown in just a few hours ago, live. As fresh as it gets.”
“Why am I here Mr Zito?”
Zito stopped eating and set his wine glass down. “You are here because someone wants you to be here.”
“You?”
“Not me, no. I couldn’t care less about you — no offense.”
Lea never broke eye contact. “None taken.”
Zito pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He raised one of his hands and snapped his fingers. “Toscano — bring Miss Donovan the zabaione.”
“I already told you, I’m not hungry.”
Zito stared out across the sun-drenched Tyrrhenian Sea and admired the view for a few tense moments. “In the mythology of Ancient Greece, it was believed that Aeolus kept the four winds hidden in the cliffs surrounding these water — the Mistral from the north, the Libeccio from the southwest and the Ostro and fierce sirocco from the south. This region is steeped in ancient folklore and myth. It is why I choose to live here.”
“Who ordered you to steal the manuscript and kidnap me?”
Zito was still studying the rise and fall of the sea. “This is a very big question, and I am not sure you will like the answer.”
“Try me.”
“Both the manuscript and you are to be delivered tomorrow.” He turned and faced her. He offered a sympathetic smile. “Then, you will have your answer.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was nearly dawn when Hawke saw the headlights. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and stared along the winding road until it vanished on a bend to the south. The lights swept along the side of the villa and then he heard the grumble of the truck’s diesel engine. A moment later it died, and the lights went dark.
“Looks like we’re on,” he whispered. “They obviously park up here and then walk down to the beach to collect the drugs.”
No reply.
He turned and saw both Lexi and Devlin were fast asleep. He shook them by their shoulders and they awoke, startled but silent. “It’s on — a truck just pulled up in Zito’s villa. Keep an eye out for the sub.”
He listened as the cab doors swung open and then slammed shut again. Then he heard the gentle, subdued chatter of men trying to talk on the quiet. He struggled to hear the Italian words with the cicadas chirping all around them.
He turned back to Lexi and Devlin. “Any sign of the Aurora?”
“Not yet,” Lexi said.
Devlin leaned forward. “Why don’t we whack these guys before the sub turns up?”
Hawke shook his head. “Not a good idea. They’ll have a signal for the sub to come ashore and we don’t know it.”
Devlin moved to respond when Lexi interupted him. “There — to the south of those cliffs! Do you see it?”
Hawke followed her arm and saw the dim glow of a light around a kilometer or so out at sea. “That could be them.”
“Could be?” Devlin said.
“Yes,” Hawke said, his voice rising. “Could be.”
They all watched the light and when it closer they saw it was a fishing trawler. Hawke gave Devlin a look as the trawler chugged past Arienzo and headed into Positano.
He opened his mouth to say something but then Lexi saw a second light, smaller and fainter. “There!”
“And look,” Hawke said, indicating the truck parked up on the cliff at the side of the villa. “Watch the headlights.”
One of the men had climbed back inside the truck and was flicking the lights on and off.
“It’s Morse code,” Hawke said, quick as flash. “Just says: All Clear.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Devlin said with a grin. “The sub’s coming in now, and no mistake.”
He was right, and so was Hawke — as it drew closer to the cove’s little beach he could now see it was an Aurora, and it looked like it had a crew of one. The other seats were presumably stuffed full of Afghani heroin. This was one particular shipment that wasn’t going to hit the streets and destroy the lives of hundreds of innocent people.
“Looks like there’s one in the sub and three up at the truck,” Hawke said quietly. “Three of us versus four of them doesn’t seem like a fair fight,” he added with a grin.
“You can say that again,” Lexi said.
Devlin nodded. “Let’s pan them bastards out up at the truck before their buddies come in.”