“Steven…that’s a real problem. We can’t just traipse in there without attracting attention.”
“True. But I have a plan. Sort of.” Steven proceeded to fill her in on his thinking. She sat quietly, and then nodded.
“It could work. But a lot of things need to go right.”
“I know. But I don’t think we have any other options. And the longer we linger here, the more time our attackers have to regroup and stake out the hotel. I say we go in now and take our chances,” Steven pressed.
“Okay. I go in first, take the elevator to the third floor and wait for you by the fire exit at the end of the hall…”
“Right. We can check the street for any surveillance on our approach. If there isn’t any, we’re still ahead of them, and we grab our stuff and get out. If there is, we’ll need a plan B. Which I haven’t thought of yet. But having Frederick’s gun is a decent equalizer.”
“I don’t like it, but I guess there aren’t any other options. Why don’t I go in and clean out both our rooms, and you keep watch on the street?” Natalie asked.
“And what if someone’s waiting in one of the rooms?” Steven countered.
“I’ll take the gun,” Natalie offered.
Steven considered it. “Have you ever used one?” he asked.
Natalie shot him a scornful look. “Steven, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me. Maybe if you’re good I’ll tell you a few. One you might find interesting is that I graduated top of my class at Quantico,” Natalie said.
“Quantico? You were FBI?” Steven asked incredulously. Natalie looked like a lot of things, but a Fed wasn’t one of them.
“It was a while ago, but yes, I spent six years with the Bureau as a Special Agent. I know how to use a gun…and I’ve used one more times than I care to remember. Probably a lot more than you ever have.”
He looked at her with new appreciation. “You may well have. I suppose it sounds like I’m being a complete chauvinist if I insist we do this together…”
“Correct. Now that’s settled, let’s stop the back and forth and get to the hotel before they have a chance to stake it out. I just wish I knew how they tracked us to the church,” Natalie groused.
“There are only a few possibilities, and none of them are good. Either they followed the car somehow, or Danny tipped them off.”
“What about your office?” Natalie asked.
“Impossible. All they sent me was the decrypted parchment. But it hadn’t been translated from Latin or assembled into anything intelligible. That’s the weakest possibility. I’d put my money on either the car, or your friend’s Italian contact has a big mouth. Those are far more likely.”
“No point in speculating. We can worry about Danny later. Let’s go do what we have to do,” Natalie said, sliding out of the hard plastic booth. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to hit the ladies room. I don’t think I’ll need a toolkit in my boots, and I can move a lot faster without the drill cutting into my ankle…”
Upon her return, they exited the restaurant and approached the cab line. A sleepy man with an elaborate turban grunted a welcome as they slid into the back seat. Steven gave the driver instructions to drop them by the Spanish Steps, a block and a half from their hotel, and once they were underway, he surreptitiously handed Natalie the gun. She expertly flipped the safety off and then slipped it into her clutch purse, with a wary glance at the driver, who was engrossed with setting a new land speed record in the noisy little Fiat and had no interest in his passengers. They lurched around several corners and were at the large plaza within a few frantic minutes. Even at the late hour, pedestrians lingered in the area — drunks, lovers, vagrants, petty thieves and several police officers.
Natalie and Steven moved in the direction of the hotel, eyeing their surroundings for any hint of danger, but saw nothing suspicious. Fifty yards from the hotel, Steven murmured his safe combination in her ear and slipped her his room key. Natalie broke away, as agreed, and sauntered unhurriedly to the front lobby while Steven leaned into a recessed doorway and kept watch. He scanned the neighboring buildings, but didn’t detect any surveillance. The only good in any of the night’s surprises so far was that at almost three in the morning it was hard to loiter and keep an eye on the hotel without being noticed — a fact he was keenly aware of as he stood sentry, too exposed for his liking.
Five minutes of waiting turned into ten. Steven began to get worried. His room was on the third floor facing the street, and he didn’t see any lights on. After another few minutes, he decided it was taking too long. He made his way to the lobby entrance, where he nodded to the night man before taking the stairs up to his room. On the third floor, he eased cautiously down the carpeted hall, his footsteps mercifully hushed. When he reached his door, he tried the handle, but it was locked. He strained to hear anything, but it was silent inside. Torn, he decided to chance a soft knock. He whispered into the door jamb.
“If you’re still in there, open up. It’s me.”
A few moments later the door opened. He pushed past Natalie into the dark room, where her bags lay on his bed, with his partially packed.
“What’s taking so long?” he complained.
“I had to get my stuff and make sure nobody was waiting to kill me. Then do the same in here. It took a while. Besides which, your junk is all over the room — laptop over on the desk, shaving kit strewn everywhere in the bathroom, clothes in the closet, papers in the safe…” She eyed him. “Who hangs their shirts and pants when they’re only going to be in a hotel for one night?”
Steven ignored her and hurriedly threw his belongings into his duffle. He was finished in sixty seconds. He did a quick scan of the safe to ensure she’d removed everything, then moved to the window to peer out. Natalie was making for the door with her bag when he turned to her.
“Slow down. There’s a problem. Looks like we’ve got company.”
“Shit. How many?” she asked, setting her bag down and extracting the pistol from her purse.
“Three. But hold off. It’ll take them at least a minute to get up here, assuming the desk doesn’t stop them. Follow me,” he whispered as he pushed past her, shouldering his bag.
He cracked the door, peeked out and verified the long hall was empty. Alert for sounds of pursuit, he motioned to Natalie. The elevator motor sounded noisily. They jogged past it towards the fire stairs at the rear of the hotel as the old lift creaked to their floor. Steven pushed the heavy steel fire door open and they stepped onto the concrete landing. Natalie looked warily down the dimly-lit stairwell to the ground floor two stories below and then shrugged at Steven. They descended the stairs without hesitation, taking them two at a time. In a few moments they were at the street level. Steven eyed the door to the lobby, then moved away from it to the metal emergency exit door.
Which was chained shut, with a padlock securing it in place.
Perfect. Far be it for an emergency exit to be usable in the event of an emergency. Better to keep intruders out by rendering it impassable to those fleeing from an inferno.
Natalie pulled on his sleeve and gestured at the fire axe hanging on the wall.
The pounding of the heavy steel edge against the lock sounded like an amplified battering ram. Fortunately, it was a relatively flimsy clasp, and after three blows the shattered padlock hit the concrete floor with a clatter. Steven quickly tore the chain from the handle and shouldered the door open.
The klaxon shriek of the hotel’s alarm wailed into the night as they ran down the alley towards another small street, away from the plaza. After turning the corner, Steven stopped and moved cautiously back to watch the rear exit. Three men emerged from the hotel and scanned the street before hurriedly splitting up — two sprinting to the plaza and a lone man moving in their direction. Steven estimated he was two hundred yards away.