All He Saw Was the Girl (32 page)

    He
saw the sun reflecting off something in the olive grove. At first he thought
one of the workers had left a tool out there on the ground, but there had been
no workers in the grove for quite some time, months. Workers had come to pick
the grapes, but the olive harvest was not for another week. The reflection
disappeared. There was a simple explanation. Probably nothing. He turned to go
in the room, looked back and saw it again.

    Mauro
went down to the main floor through the villa, and outside, moving across the
veranda to the lower level. Tulio and Franco glanced at him as he approached,
turned and moved to the edge of the grove, trying to appear alert, doing their
job. Mauro whispered to them, "Listen, I think there is someone out there,
an intruder, you stand here looking at her, what are you doing?"

    They
were embarrassed, eyes staring at the ground.

    The
three of them spread out and walked into the grove, Tulio on one side of him,
Franco on the other. Mauro saw a Panna bottle on the ground. He picked it up
and unscrewed the top and heard the
psssss
sound of gas escaping. He
looked at the men. "Did one of you leave this?"

    They
shook their heads.

    Mauro
took out his cell phone and dialed Pascal and Fausto at the villa's entrance
and told them to be looking out for a possible intruder moving in their
direction. Mauro had no idea if there was an intruder or what direction he was
going, but he was taking no chances.

    Ray
was trying to figure out how they'd gotten on to him so fast. Did they have
motion sensors? Video surveillance cameras? He was running through the olive
grove, thinking about the water bottle he’d left, angry at himself for not
paying attention.

    He
made it to the forest, ran sixty, seventy yards, stopped and listened, could
hear them coming behind him. He used an oak tree for cover, looking back,
seeing them appear one at a time, spread out, spaced twenty yards apart, moving
toward him, two holding shotguns. He looked at the compass and saw he was
heading south toward the entrance to the villa.

    He
changed direction, moving again, this time heading east. He went fifteen yards,
stopped and looked back. One of the guards was getting close. Ray wasn't sure
if the man had seen him or not. He turned and saw Giancotti and Veraldi,
closing in on him from the opposite direction, Ray now caught in the middle. He
went down on his knees and then his stomach, hiding in a patch of leafy
foliage, gripping the SIG Sauer. He lay there holding his breath as Veraldi
approached, carrying the machine gun. Veraldi stopped, looking around, his leg
a foot away. Ray waited till he moved past him, till he was out of sight, got
up and ran.

    "You
done good," Joey said.

    Psuz
looked at him and grinned.

    "I've
got to tell you I had my doubts. I thought no fucking way Jose, but you did
it."

    "In
the
casa
," Psuz said, pointing to a tan-colored stone house on the
hill behind them.

    Joey
was still in the back seat, door open, catching a breeze that swept across the
valley. He was staring out at the countryside, seeing little houses in the
distance, tiny shapes, squares and rectangles with orange roofs. It was 2:00,
sun dipping toward the mountains.

    Joey
lighted his last Montecristo No. 4 with the gold Alfred Dunhill lighter, puffed
and got it going, and got out of the car. He clamped the cigar between his
teeth, inhaled a little and blew out smoke the wind took as soon as it came out
of his mouth. Psuz had called Mazara and told him he followed the American and
knew where he was. Joey didn't believe it till he got there. Blondie had
surprised him. Now Sis, Mazara and Psuz, his three Italian buddies, were
looking at him, waiting for Joey to tell them what to do.

    "He
was going to capture the American, give him to you," Mazara said to Joey.
"But he want you to have the honor."

    Joey
nodded. Okay, that was more like it. The Romans finally showing him some
fucking respect. It was about time.

    He
glanced at Psuz. "You're positive he's up there?"

    "I
see him," Psuz said, pointing at the villa.

    "Just
making sure," Joey said. He sucked on the cigar, tasted tobacco juice,
swallowed it, inhaled and blew out the smoke.

    "We
can go now?" Mazara said.

    "Bob,
that's what we're going to do, okay? Take a chill pill." Joey knew the
smart thing to do was wait till dark, but he wanted to get it over with, get
the money, give McCabe to his Unk, and go back to Rome have a nice dinner, a
Florentine steak maybe, or a big bowl of spaghetti Alfredo. Drink some wine.
Celebrate. The only question: how was he going to get up the hill? Taking the
car would be like calling McCabe and telling him he was on his way. He could
walk, but said to himself, who're you kidding? It had to be a hundred yards to
the top. He'd never make it. "You three sneak up. I'll watch. When I see
you at the top I'll drive up. We'll surround the place, bring him out and
that'll be that."

    They
just stood there staring at him with these goofy looks on their faces.

    "There
a problem? Something you don't understand?" Joey said. He pointed at the
villa. "What're you waiting for? Go get him.
Andi-fucking-amo."

    Now
they seemed to get it. Sis and Mazara took off zigzagging up the scrub-covered
slope in front. Psuz grabbed his shotgun and went around the hill to the
opposite side of the villa, surprise McCabe if he tried to sneak out that way.
Joey liked giving an order and seeing the Romans hop to it. Maybe there was
hope for them after all.

    Ten
minutes later Sisto signaled him from the top. Joey got in the Opel, sped up
the driveway, parked on the flat gravel area next to the house, and got out
with the gay shotgun Mazara had given him. Psuz was standing at the edge of the
parking area, staring up at the roofline as if he were expecting McCabe to jump
out a window or slide down the tiles.

    Mazara
was moving through the kitchen, two hands on the Tanfoglio. He entered a big
room with walls of stone and beams in the ceiling. The floor was made of wood planks
covered by a rug. He saw Sisto coming in the front of the house, coming through
the salon, Sisto pointing to the ceiling, the gesture, saying McCabe could be
up there. But only a fool would do that and this McCabe was not a fool. Mazara
followed Sisto up the stairs. There were two bedrooms. He looked out the window
to the west and saw Viterbo a few kilometers away.

    He
crossed the room and looked out toward Bagnaia, a village to the east. He went
back downstairs and saw the telescope on a tripod in the main room in front of
a window. He didn't notice it before. He went over and looked through the lens,
turned it to the left and saw them, two figures he recognized as McCabe and
Angela, a couple hundred meters away, at least, running along the road. Mazara
didn't see anyone pointing a gun at her, or forcing her to run. It looked like
she wanted to go with McCabe. Seeing this confused him. He grabbed his crotch
for good luck, told himself she was just doing what she was told, a prisoner,
waiting for an opportunity to escape.

    McCabe
went upstairs to get his backpack, looked out the bedroom window and saw them
starting up the hill in front of the villa. Further to the right he could see
the rear fender of the Opel parked on the side of the road. Howd they find him?
He ran downstairs. Angela was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee.
"They're here," McCabe said.

    "What?"

    "Coming
up the hill."

    They
went out the front door and over the wall and down the eastern slope toward the
road, stopped a couple of times and took cover behind stands of oak and
sycamore trees. Sisto and Mazara were coming up the hill toward the villa as
they were going down. At one point they were only about twenty yards away.
McCabe also saw Joey drive up in the Opel, but by that time they were walking
along the road. Angela had her thumb out and a car was stopping.

    Angela
got in front and McCabe in the rear seat behind her. The driver was a thin
middle-aged guy, hair going gray, looked like an accountant, white shirt and
tie. He smiled at Angela and said something in Italian.

    Angela
glanced at him, her expression seductive and innocent. It was the same look
she'd given McCabe at the wine bar the afternoon they met, and now the man was
hooked just as McCabe had been. He said something to Angela in Italian. She
turned her head and looked back at McCabe.

    "He
wants to know where we are going. What should I tell him?"

    "Soriano
nel Cimino."

    Angela
told the driver and he glanced at her and said something in Italian. She looked
back at McCabe and said, "He's going to Montecampano. Soriano is out of
his way, but he said he would take us."

    "I
think he likes you," McCabe said. And on cue the accountant looked at
Angela again, and smiled. She was good-looking, but there was something
down-to-earth and approachable about her that gave even a middle-aged
accountant the confidence to hit on her.

    Angela
said, "He wants to know if you play football."

    "Tell
him no, I kidnapped you and the bag is filled with ransom money."

    She
did, and he laughed.

    They
went through Bagnaia and passed the sculpted Renaissance gardens of Villa
Lante. After that, the driving became more difficult and the views more
spectacular as they climbed the steep grade into the mountains. The driver kept
glancing at Angela, grinning and talking. His name was Dante Lanzetta and he
worked in the Palazzo del Plebiscito. How was that for coincidence? Dante told
them they had to see the Sasso del Predicatore. McCabe remembered reading about
it, a huge stone monument called the Preacher's Rock. He'd like to see it but
didn't think they'd have a chance to do any sightseeing on this particular
trip.

    Thirty
minutes later they drove into Soriano nel Cimino, a hill town with a population
of about eight thousand. It was 3:30, sun hanging on top of the mountains. He
could see the narrow shape of the clock tower and the walls and batdements of
Orsini Castle. They were on Via Santa Maria, approaching the town center.
McCabe told Dante he could let them out anywhere along there, and he pulled
over.

    "Where
they at?" Joey said to the three Italians. They gave him blank looks. What
else was new? "I don't believe it. We don't find them, I've got to tell
the don his little girl's been kidnapped and you bozos let it happen." He
grinned, couldn't hold it back. They were in the villa kitchen.

    Mazara
said he'd seen Angela and McCabe get in a tan Fiat and drive off in the
direction of Bagnaia. Sisto went out to the car and came back with a map. He
unfolded it and spread it out on the table. Roberto pointed to where they were.
He traced a line with his index finger.

    Joey
said, "Okay, genius, so where they going?"

    "I
think to the autostrada and back to Roma."

    Joey
couldn't disagree with him. Jesus Christ, there was nothing around them except
for small towns scattered through the hills. Would McCabe risk checking into a
hotel? Joey doubted it. The carabinieri would be looking for him too.
"Let's go. You can drop me off in Mentana, talk to the don yourself, tell
him what happened to Angela, and where his money's at. I'm sure he'll be
anxious to see you."

    Then
Mazara surprised him, looked up from the map and said, "You want McCabe? I
have a way."

    "Is
that right?" Joey said. "What do you got? Let's hear it."

    Mazara
told him, laid out his plan and it sounded good, sounded realistic and doable.

    Joey
said, "Now you're talking." He agreed not to say anything to his Unk,
let it play out a little longer. What difference would another day make?

    "Do
you know where McCabe is?" Arturo looked at his eyes, believing after
twenty-eight years with the carabinieri he could see dishonesty in a man's
eyes.