“I’m not say—”
“What you should be asking yourself are two questions: how lucky do I feel, and how much do I enjoy breathing? Because, as of now, I’m here to tell you that right or wrong, you’re going to get that visit from Frank’s goons, and it’s not going to be pleasant. You won’t be walking away from it, Dr. Cross. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s true. It didn’t take me long to find you, and it won’t take them long either. You’re wasting time right now that neither of us has,” Natalie stated.
He had watched her as she argued her position, and his gut said she believed what she was saying. Steven was a good judge of character, and she was obviously agitated, and afraid, and needed his help. Or believed she did. Which, in the end, was the same thing — at least for now.
Steven wondered how likely he would be to entertain this sort of outlandish story if the person telling it didn’t also happen to be beautiful, in addition to having presented him with the cryptology equivalent of the Holy Grail. He had to admit that she made a persuasive and passionate case. And she did smell awfully good.
Not to mention that if she was even partially correct, he had just landed in the middle of a shit-storm of epic proportions. If Frank had actually paid millions for the Scroll, it didn’t matter how much of the rest of the story was accurate. People would kill for that kind of money. And Steven didn’t want to test his luck until he knew more.
“Let’s say I believe you, or at least that I buy some crazy bastard might believe the Scroll is worth killing over, if he was nuts enough to pay through the nose to get it. What can I do about any of this? I run a boutique software company, not some sort of professional code-cracking outfit working for the NSA,” he protested.
“I’d like you to do an in-depth study of the pages, and if you spot anything that makes you uneasy or seems like it could contain a clue, tell me. I see you still think this is hysteria, and I agree it sounds crazy, but please, please believe me that the truth is much worse than whatever you’re thinking is plausible. Can you please take some time and really examine the Scroll? Or is there somewhere we can go that nobody knows about, where we’ll be safe while you look it over? I have a villa I’m renting outside of town we can use…” Natalie offered.
Steven mulled over the invitation. There were worse things he could imagine besides spending the day at Natalie’s villa. It wasn’t like he had a ton of work piling up — things had been quiet for the last month, and the team was running on automatic pilot.
Natalie’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen and answered it.
“Yes?”
“A car with two ugly-looking goons just parked thirty yards from the front entrance of the office you’re in. They look professional. See if there’s another way out of the building. I’ll meet you after you’re clear.” It was Frederick, her driver.
Natalie hung up and looked around urgently. “Is there a back way out of the building?” she asked Steven. She scrambled to gather up the Scroll and return it to the canister.
“What? Why?” Steven demanded.
“That was my driver. We have about sixty seconds before you learn the hard way that this danger is very real. There are two thugs approaching the front entrance, and they’re not here for computer training.”
Shit. He regarded her eyes. They were steely, with no trace of panic, but also completely earnest.
“There’s a back emergency exit by the storeroom next to this office.”
“Let’s go. Unless you want to stay and discover I wasn’t exaggerating,” Natalie said.
Steven made an instant decision. “Follow me.” He moved to the office door and called out to Gwen, “If anyone comes looking for me, you haven’t seen me for a few days — I’m on vacation until next week in Switzerland, with no way of contacting me until Monday, all right?”
Gwen didn’t miss a beat. “Have a lovely holiday.”
They pushed their way out through the rear exit. Steven called Gwen’s cell as they sprinted through the alley behind the building and out onto the larger street a hundred yards away.
“Gwen. If two men come in looking for me, please be very careful, and very convincing,” he started.
“Yes, sweetheart, of course I can make lunch today. Say at two o’clock?” Gwen replied, sounding breezy, like she had not a care in the world.
“Did they show up?” he asked.
“Yes, of course I can,” she replied.
“Do you need me to call the police?” Steven responded.
“No, can’t chat right now. I have some visitors I need to speak with,” she said.
“So no police?”
“That won’t be necessary. See you at lunch. Ciao!” Gwen said and hung up.
Steven glanced at Natalie.
“You were right. Are my people in any danger?” he demanded.
“I don’t think so. It’s you they’re after. They’ll want to keep low key until they find us, and not arouse any suspicion. It’s just their bad luck they came to kill you when you were on holiday,” Natalie said.
Two minutes later the gray sedan pulled up next to them. Steven and Natalie climbed into the back.
“We’re clean,” she said to the Frederick, and Steven noticed that, even so, the man spent a lot of time studying the rearview mirror as they lost themselves in Florence’s perennial snarl of traffic. “Dr. Cross, this is Frederick. He’s been with the family since I was a child.”
Frederick nodded at him, eyes still darting from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors between glancing at the road in front of them.
Steven didn’t get the feeling he was talkative, so he opted for silence.
Ten minutes later, Steven’s cell phone rang as they rode through Florence’s outskirts on the way to the villa. It was Gwen.
“So, luv, did you rob a bank or chop up some supermodel?” she asked by way of greeting.
“What are you talking about? Are you okay? Who were those guys and what did they want?” Steven pressed.
“They were detectives with the Florence police. They were very interested in your whereabouts, but wouldn’t say anything besides that they needed to speak with you as soon as possible, as they put it, to ‘assist them with their inquiries’. I asked them what inquiries and they gave me some line about not being free to discuss it,” Gwen explained.
“That’s bullshit. I haven’t done anything. Did they show you any ID or leave any contact information?” Steven’s mind was racing over possibilities.
“One of them flashed a shield, but I didn’t have a lot of time to study it. Could have been a traffic warden’s badge for all I know. The one odd thing was that they had to write down a phone number for me to contact them if I spoke with you. If they were police, you’d think they’d have had printed cards…”
“I agree. They’re probably private investigators or something like that,” Steven confirmed. He didn’t feel like speculating with Gwen about what he meant by ‘something like that’.
“Well, they weren’t happy that you’re on holiday for a week, but what can I do about it? I’m just a lowly receptionist. I merely answer phones and clean out rubbish bins, and occasionally bring the high-and-mighty coffee.” Gwen had a typical British dry sense of humor.
“Do me a favor and e-mail me the number and have the lads run it through the crisscross directory to trace it. Get me any info they come up with,” Steven requested.
“What’s this all about, Steven? Seriously.” Gwen’s tone had changed.
“I don’t have any idea, Gwen. That’s what I’m going to try to find out. This morning I was minding my own business, buying bread and coffee, and now I’m darting through back doors…”
“With girls wearing outfits straight out of The Matrix. I know it has to be tough on you, luv. Do try to keep your spirits up through all this,” Gwen observed sweetly.