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Authors: Alison Morton

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LXXVI

That night, it was a relief to be back in the warm chalet under a feather comforter with Conrad, relaxed after a hot shower and warm cooked meal. I watched the man as he slept afterward, his muscled body covered in fine golden down, his skin warm on mine, one arm still looped around my waist. Despite our hunt, and the reason for it, I was content.

 

‘Mrs Miller, I presume?’

I woke instantly, every nerve jangling. Conrad’s body beside me tensed.

‘Sheeyt! Who the hell is that?’ I cried out in a broad Connecticut accent into the pitch-dark. The bedroom light snapped on and I found a gun barrel millimetres from my forehead.

‘Oh, very good.’

Bloody Lurio. And Sentius, his semi-automatic trained on Conrad.

‘What in Hades are you doing here?’ I struggled up onto my elbows. He drew the weapon back. His knuckles were almost breaking through his skin.

‘I might ask you the same,’ he said.

I scanned Lurio’s face, trying to figure out what was behind his intensity, when Conrad sprang out of the bed and slammed Sentius against the wood-panelled wall, neatly catching the pistol as it dropped from his hand. He lobbed it over to me, wrenched Sentius’s arm up and, gripping his neck with his other hand, frogmarched the cop to the doorway and flung him through it. He advanced on Lurio who had twisted around ready to face Conrad, arm outstretched, Glock in hand.

‘Try it,’ Lurio said.

Conrad snorted.

After staring at each other for a full ten seconds, Lurio lowered his weapon, the anger in his face receding.

Conrad grabbed the door handle.

‘Out. Wait downstairs.’

Lurio raised his chin, like he was going to say something, but turned and left without a word.

I was already scrambling into some clothes. ‘I knew it, I knew it was wrong when I saw they were both gone.’ I was trembling with rage.

Downstairs, Lurio stood by the hall stove, legs braced, arms folded, his face dull in the glow from the nightlight. The night porter was nowhere to be seen. I wouldn’t have put it past Lurio to have thrown him out. Sentius was reading a tourist leaflet, but jammed it back in the display as we came down the wood stairs.

Before anybody could stop me, I walked over to Lurio and struck his face with the palm of my hand. ‘What in Hades was the point of that dramatic little pantomime?’

‘Temper, temper, Bruna.’ He rubbed his cheek. ‘Well, it got your attention.’

‘Right. You like interrupting people’s vacation, rousting them out at five in the morning?’

‘Vacation? When you and Major Tough Guy are sneaking around a high-security area pretending to be American tourists? I don’t think so.’

‘I suppose you and Sentius here are looking for a venue for your next girls’ outing, are you?’

It was so still that a mouse scampering across the guest house lobby would have sounded like a truck driving through. I took a deep breath. Conrad laid a hand on my arm and shook his head. I could see him exercising considerable effort to calm himself.

‘Very well, Inspector,’ he said to Lurio, ‘let’s ditch the personal. I think we’re both on the same search. Jeffrey Renschman’s escaped, and you and Sentius are trying to catch him before it gets out. You’ve even got the minister lying.’

‘You
have
been a busy boy, Tellus.’ Lurio sat down on the cushioned bench. He shrugged. ‘You’re quite right. He went missing six days ago. His tracker tag was found in his bunk. How the Hades he extracted that, I’d like to know. No matter. If word gets out, we don’t only look careless, but the whole concept of escape-proof is shot. We reckon we’ve got three, four days max left to find him before the shit hits the fan.’

‘We found this,’ I chipped in, and held out a plastic baggie with the scrap of yellow cloth. ‘By the stream, around a hundred metres outside the south perimeter fence.’

He took it, turned it through his fingers and grunted.

‘So what do you have?’ Conrad asked.

‘Next to nothing. The CCTV doesn’t show anything out of the ordinary. We got zilch from interrogating the rest of his wing. They just smirked at us, the bastards. The only break was yesterday afternoon when a farmer reported lost property. The local station wasn’t interested but the farmer insisted they log it. They’re a new crew after the station was wiped out in the shoot-out a few months ago.’ He paused, glancing at Sentius. ‘Probably not used to dealing with stroppy old yokels. And it wasn’t exactly crime incident of the millennium. The farmer had first noticed the stuff gone three days ago, but hadn’t got around to reporting it.’ He flicked his hand toward his companion. ‘Sentius was making our fond farewells with the duty sergeant when the farmer came in. Turns out it was clothes and boots. So we’ve got a three day-old description.’

‘If he’s walked, he’d have got to the bus and railways by now,’ Sentius said. ‘We’ve put out the usual alerts and got the local teams questioning the train, bus and taxi staff.’

Conrad and I exchanged glances. Renschman would have ensured he left very little impression and covered that with a professional’s expertise.

‘Tell me,’ I said to Lurio, breaking the silence that had intruded, ‘how did you know we were here?’ I had to know if we’d been sloppy.

‘I could say solid police work, but it was a complete fluke. Sentius recognised you leaving the curia office when he sneaked out to buy a packet of cigarettes.’

We spent another twenty minutes throwing it around, but knew in our hearts we had nothing to go on.

Lurio stood up. ‘Not much more we can do here. You’d better leave us to seal the border and try and contain him that way,’ he concluded. ‘It’ll come out, but I suppose we’ll live it down. Eventually.’

‘No, it’s not that easy, Lurio,’ Conrad said. ‘He kidnapped Carina and tried to seize her father’s business. He nearly killed her in Washington and in the park last year. He got in with Palicek. He’s a bloody dangerous black operator and a vindictive son of a bitch. Jupiter knows what else he’ll do. He’s likely to ramp it up. Apart from anything else, I’m sure he’ll come after Carina again if you lot can’t find him.’

‘Then why don’t we let him?’

The three men stared at me as if I’d made an indecent suggestion.

But none of them protested by return.

After a long thirty seconds, Lurio said, ‘Not the stupidest suggestion you’ve ever made.’

I was pleased I’d smacked him as hard as I did.

 

LXXVII

Sweating, feet lacerated, Renschman had reached a farm on the outskirts of the town. He crawled into a goat pen and collapsed into sleep. A faint red glow on the eastern horizon provided the only light when he staggered out, filthy, thirsty, feet throbbing. He sluiced down in a cattle trough, washing sweat and goat shit off. He crept up to the farm buildings and opened the door inch by inch. The kitchen was unlit, empty. He made for the refrigerator and seized a carton of milk. It dribbled down his chin and neck as he gulped it down. Grabbing cold cuts, bread and a bottle of water, he stuffed them in a cloth bag from the back of the door. A muffled noise upstairs pulled his glance upwards. He cocked his ear like a wary cat and waited. Nothing. He took a jacket, shirt, trousers and boots from the utility room and left on his trek to the city.

 

Watching the girl’s house this time, he stayed well back from the high stone walls. Despite his thinner face with its furrowed scar across his forehead and the new beard, he couldn’t risk the software cutting through to recognise him again.

The tall gates opened and a red car, Italian, paused in the entrance. The driver looked around, her red-gold hair shining in the early light. She wore a beige uniform shirt, military tabs and some kind of black arm patch with a gold design. He couldn’t see what it was from this distance. She turned right and sped off toward the city centre.

He’d found her again. No longer a cop, but military. Going off to a cosy little office, pushing a few indents and travel orders around, no doubt. Poring over a computer in the Biblioteca Publica, he found the uniform. Special forces? He checked again. She must be some kind of office weenie. Sure, she’d been the bait for the drug bust, but that hardly needed such high-level specialist skills. Besides, she was a woman. All the same, he needed to be a little careful.

 

 

LXXVIII

Back at the PGSF, I kept to a skeleton routine and spent a lot more time out in the open. Renschman had to know we were watching for him. I wanted to sit in the park reading my magazine, waiting for him to pounce; it would save us all time and effort. Nothing had happened after a week. Was our strategy too straightforward?

I was in the university bookshop, choosing a gift for Nonna’s birthday, when a boy came up to me and asked if I was Lieutenant Mitela. I wasn’t in uniform. He handed me an envelope. Remembering the previous letter I’d had from Renschman, I held it by the corner and dropped it into a plastic baggie as a precaution. But even Renschman wouldn’t poison a letter to be carried by a child, would he?

I crouched down and thanked the boy. ‘Could you help me out here a little more?’

He looked wary, but nodded. I smiled at him, took his hand and led him over to the service desk. I flashed my gold badge at the startled assistant.

‘Back office, please. Now.’ I glanced at the nervous face beside me, the dark eyes darting around. ‘And a glass of milk and some cookies.’

The clerk had to tap in the entry code twice, he was so nervous. As we waited, I watched the boy demolish the honey cakes and milk. He laid the empty plate on a pile of papers on the desk and looked up at me expectantly.

A knock on the door. I signalled the child back to hide behind the door. He scurried into the corner and folded himself into a coat hanging on the back. I flicked out my carbon fibre knife and sheltered behind the edge of the slowly opening door.

‘Bruna, it’s Sentius. Your alarm went off.’

‘Slowly, Sentius.’

His hand came through the gap, tobacco-stained fingernails holding his ID. I breathed in relief.

He saw the boy, now scared. Sentius pulled out a paper handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the child’s eyes. ‘Hey, come on, come and sit with Uncle Manius.’

Did Sentius have children? He knew all the moves. The child sat happily with Sentius and babbled about how he’d been given two gold solidi and a chocolate pastry by a man to deliver the note. He was only about eight or nine, poor kid.

A patrol car brought us all to
Custodes
XI Station where I disinfected my and the boy’s hands. My hands in plastic gloves and a mask covering my face, I drew the letter out carefully and unfolded the single sheet. I read the two simple sentences. Horror crept up on me as I took in each word.

Sentius snatched the note from my nerveless fingers, read it and dived for his commset. I called Conrad. ‘He has Helena.’

Renschman had ensured I would come to him willingly, happily even. I would give him anything. I would sing and dance, and do handstands for him, for the safe return of my friend and cousin.

 

She would be frightened to her core. I fussed and fidgeted around the barracks for the rest of the day. I couldn’t keep my eyes or my mind still. Renschman instructed me to meet him, alone, by the service kiosk behind the palace park theatre at ten. The same place as before. If he’d tied her up like I’d been, she’d freeze. The memory washed through me. Bastard. He wouldn’t have killed her already. No. I couldn’t let myself believe that.

A PGSF hostage psychologist briefed me on what to expect, how to act, what to say. My Active Response Team – Flavius, Paula, Livius and Atria – plus Daniel had deployed already to the park, well hidden, ready to act. I made it clear that, the minute Helena was safe, their prime target was Renschman. I made a will, addressed to the censor’s office as well as a copy for Nonna.

Conrad and I went back to my room. A while later, I pulled myself away from him, got up out of the bed, showered and made myself a drink. I wept quietly as I sat watching him sleep. He woke. I smiled at him. I glanced at my watch. An hour to go.

I took some high-energy tabs and a cup of the malt and ginger drink as we waited. Conrad would drive me to the park gate.

 

The moon was full and every leaf, branch and stone was outlined in sharp silver light. I wore warm walking pants, roll top with shirt underneath and fleece, with reinforced-grip sneakers on my feet. As I walked through the park gate and along the path, I was calm and prepared. Maybe it was my time.

 

His silhouette emerged from behind the stone theatre semi-circle when I was around twenty metres away.

‘Stop.’

His breath plumed out in the chill temperature.

‘Three-sixty turn, arms stretched out.’

I complied.

‘Advance. Slowly.’

I stopped five metres from him. He had a Glock semi-automatic tucked in his waistband.

‘Did I tell you to stop?’

‘I need to see my cousin.’

‘If you disobey me, you’re going to make me kill her.’

‘If you kill her then you lose me.’

He half-turned and pulled a female figure into view, hands behind her. It looked like Helena.

‘Carina. Don’t—’

He slapped her, hard. The high pitch of the staccato contact on her skin echoed in the clear night, followed by her cry and sobbing.

I compressed the rising red flood back down.

‘Send her forward, Renschman. I need to see her properly and check she’s unhurt.’

He pulled her round in a circle. Her right ankle was tied with a short rope to the lamp post by the theatre wall, so she couldn’t run. Crap.

‘She’s all there. You come here and she can go on her way.’

‘No, you’ll have us both.’

He stooped and picked up a coil of rope, looped one end and threw the rest at me.

‘Guess I’ll have to reel you in. Now you do exactly as I tell you or I’ll slit her throat from ear to ear, and you can watch her bleed to death. That image will haunt you for the rest of your life.’

He held a knife against her throat and nicked her skin enough to release a dribble of blood along the length of the cut.

I swallowed hard and just about resisted the urge to close my eyes.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked.

‘Make a nice strong double loop, with slip knots. No cheating now. Then you’re going to slide your wrists in and pull tight. I don’t want you running off before we’ve finished.’

Shit.

‘Not until you cut her loose. She has to walk free the minute I put my hand through the loops.’

‘Dear me, don’t you trust me, Miss Brown?’

He had totally lost it. He was completely crazy.

‘No. Now let her go.’

I made the slip loops. I stared at them as if they were hangman’s nooses. I put my left wrist in and tightened it. I raised it, rope falling in a slim line so he could see. He bent and cut Helena’s tether and pushed her forward as I slipped in my right wrist and held both up. She came up beside me.

‘Carina,’ she whispered.

I smiled at her and said, ‘Run like Hades.’ I watched her stumble toward the gate and closed my eyes in relief. He jerked the rope and I stumbled and fell. He dragged me across the gap and stood over me.

‘Now we can finish our conversation.’

 

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