Once the device was ringing, Adriana stood up, stepped over the hitman's mutilated corpse, and grabbed the cylinder. She gave one last look back at the two bodies before taking off through the rear exit and disappearing into the Amsterdam night.
17
Adriana stared out the window of her hotel room overlooking the Ligurian Sea. Crystal blue water foamed into short white waves crashing into the sparsely populated beach. The sky was clear blue, and the bright sun shone down on the resort town, but the temperature wasn’t exactly good for beachgoing. Most of the sunbathers had retired for the season. The only people left on the sand were the diehard tanners and those who enjoyed a walk by the water.
It was the first time in this entire fiasco that Adriana had time to kill between finding a painting and delivering it to the Belgian’s henchmen. She’d tried to rest and recuperate, and for the most part managed to accomplish that. The few extra days of rest had done her body good, helping to heal some of the bumps and bruises she’d picked up along the way. Her mind, however, wasn’t fully there yet.
The scene at the church had been a confusing one for her. She knew Allyson was a villain, but watching someone die wasn’t something that ever got any easier. Especially when they’d just sacrificed themselves. Maybe that was Allyson’s redemption for a life of crime. If it was, that made it harder to process.
After a couple of days, though, Adriana had refocused her thoughts. She’d devised a plan and come up with a way to track where the painting went. After making a few calls, she found a hobby dealer in the area who sold radio-controlled drones. One of the higher-end ones had a camera attached to it. She would drop off the painting, get back to the hiding place she’d picked out after surveying the area, and send the drone skyward. After the pickup, she would follow the pickup man. If there were multiple men, like before, she would follow one and torture them until he gave up the Belgian’s location. And if he didn’t, she would spend as long as it took to chase him down. Time and money didn’t matter. Whoever this person was, he’d messed with her family. And that could not be forgiven. The plan was far from perfect. She wished she could call up her friends in the intelligence community, get them to stake out the area, but that wasn’t an option. Especially considering how deep the Belgian’s reach might be. He probably had assets in every major government agency in the world.
Adriana spent the final day before the drop-off surveying every inch of the rendezvous point. It was an interesting location. As with the first painting, it was near the water. Except this time, she wasn’t going to a shipyard. She was to take the painting to a high-end marina not far from where she was staying. Upon arriving at the harbor, Adriana quickly realized that the Belgian was probably going to be taking the Rembrandt away by sea. Such an escape would make him difficult to follow. She wondered if he was there, watching her walk the gangways, investigating every exit, every ramp, every boat in the marina. Which one was his? Surely, a man with an immeasurable amount of wealth could afford the biggest and the best yacht there was to offer.
She noticed one, in particular, across the way near the end of the docks. It bobbed back and forth, up and down in the gentle waves. The sheer size of the vessel was astounding. It was at least eighty feet long with two levels above the water line, and at least one more below. The white hull stopped at the deck. The exterior walls of the cabin were painted black with the windows trimmed in gold. Adriana figured the precious metal around the windows was the real thing.
A man in a white suit stood on the deck just next to the gangplank. His hands were firmly folded behind his back as if he were either expecting someone or guarding the ship. Maybe it was both. The white cap with black brim shielded his already tanned face from the bright sun. Adriana stayed out of his field of vision and kept to the walkways off to the side.
That has to be his boat. Overcompensate much?
She shook her head in disgust. Adriana had been on a similar yacht not long ago, off the coast of Greece in the Ionian Sea. The experience had been a harrowing one, and the man that owned that particular vessel met an untimely demise. If her plan worked, so would the Belgian.
She kept moving, careful to look more like a casual tourist than someone reconnoitering a secret drop point. Her sunglasses, white hat, and hair tucked up inside provided an adequate disguise. Her white shorts and gray top helped keep her inconspicuous like a wealthy woman on vacation who was out for a stroll to the shops and cafes.
Now the day was here. She’d taken every precaution, made sure every detail was in place. The batteries in the drone had been checked three times to make sure they worked properly. She’d also taken a small gamble. On her hunch that the Belgian’s pickup guy would be leaving by boat, she spent a considerable amount of money to rent a boat of her own. A smaller one by comparison, a thirty-foot-long cabin cruiser, which was still a decent sized boat for most. It had a full tank of gas and was ready to depart as soon as she stepped aboard.
It was there she would hide and wait for the pickup to happen. And from there, she would follow.
Dressed in black yoga pants and a matching black jacket, she grabbed her rucksack and the cylinder and took off toward the pier. Dusk came early, changing what had been a bright sunny day into a yellowish gray melancholy evening. A coastal breeze pushed cool air through the streets as Adriana hurried along. She checked the time on her watch to make sure she wasn’t running late. Everything had to be perfect. With darkness coming, she worried about being able to keep visual contact of the pickup man as he departed. Of course, that had to be part of the Belgian’s plan all along. The other pickup times had been an hour earlier. She’d wondered why this one was so different. Now it made sense. He could escape under the cover of impending darkness. She could follow, but not for long — not once the sun went down. Then the ocean would meet the sky in an all-consuming black abyss.
Adriana picked up her pace even though she wasn’t running late. There was never any penalty for being early.
She made her way past mostly empty street cafes. With the cool air and the breeze, it wasn’t surprising that most people were choosing to dine indoors tonight. The city as a whole looked much like a ghost town, with only a few pedestrians meandering around, finding bars or restaurants where they could grab a quick drink or meal. Traffic was moderate, primarily filling the main streets. Adriana didn’t have to wait to cross two of the intersections since no cars were coming.
Getting back to the marina only took ten minutes. Off to the left, she spied her rental boat, tossing back and forth. The keys were tucked away in her rucksack. Even as she hustled toward the drop point, the plan evolved in her mind. Once she had her father, they would get back to the boat. He could drive while she flew the drone and guided him. That would allow them to keep enough distance to avoid looking suspicious to their prey. Yes. That would work. It had to work.
She arrived at the drop point with plenty of time to spare. The area was completely vacant of people. The Belgian knew how to pick his spots. It was out of view from the main thoroughfares, and at this time of day, during this point of the season, no one would be around to interfere. There were plenty of places for his men to watch from. Or shoot from, if things got out of hand. Adriana suddenly felt naked, out in the open and exposed to danger from all angles. She’d not really perceived that when she scouted the area the day before, probably because there were people milling about, the sun was shining, and things seemed less threatening. Now every window, every rooftop, even every yacht on the water posed a serious threat.