The Crypt (16 page)

“Sarah,” he reached out, almost pleading. “You should consider being more feminine. Sure it’s pink, but no one will see it unless you let them. If you’re letting them see your underwear, then pink is a good color.”

“Because I have no other option, I will wear these. But after we leave this place I am going shopping for real clothes.”

She walked into the bathroom without another word and started the shower.

In forty five minutes they were back at the train station, sitting on their train heading to Umbertide, Italy. After a large number of stops and a few train changes, they got off the train in Umbertide and started walking toward the piazza, the center of town. The signs said Montone was on the other side of Umbertide.

Conversation between them was light as they walked past Umbertide and out into the open countryside. It was seriously hot as the Italian sun beat down on them while they walked in the open. Sarah pegged it for about three in the afternoon.

Too bad she hadn’t considered wearing a hat
, she thought.

“So what’s the plan?” Parkman asked.

“I don’t have one. I know that sounds risky and stupid but I really don’t know what we’re walking into.”

“Have you heard from Vivian?”

She looked over at him. “Yes. Last night.”

“You going to tell me about it?”

“She said to use the fire, but I don’t know what that means yet.”

“Anything else?”

They hit a round-about and crossed when no one was coming. The road angled out of the fields and started on a slight incline as it rose to the hilltop town.

“She said to tell these people that Drake Bellamy has the original documents and that I do too. If anything happens to me these documents go public. I’m also supposed to say that I know about their attempted hit on Drake at some baseball game coming up in two weeks. Something like that.”

“Who is this Drake? Do you know anything else?”

“That immigration officer, István, in Budapest who I got to confess on tape, he said something about Drake being in Toronto and how people died because of what these immigration people do.”

“Maybe this Drake guy is important in some way?”

“He is. Knowing what we know may save our lives today.”

They hit a switchback in the road and continued climbing. For all their effort in the heat Sarah was starting to feel seriously drained. Her breathing was rapid and her mouth was dry. As soon as they got to Montone a large bottle of water was on the menu. No way could she deal with aggressors while she was this thirsty.

“Well, Sarah, I do have a plan.”

She could hear him panting a little harder than she was. “What’s your plan, Parkman?”

“We separate and scout out the area alone. If one of us gets into trouble then we’ll have the other for backup. And now that I know what Vivian said to you, if I’m the one in trouble I’ll know what to say and do. Does that work for you?”

“Yes. I usually work alone anyway. I don’t want to have to watch your back too.”

He looked at her. She smiled at him.

They walked on in silence until the walled city of Montone came into view. A few buildings had been built on the outside of the walls in the last hundred years or so. A pizzeria was open on the right. Sarah ran in to locate two bottles of water.

She had spent the last few days traveling and not having to look over her shoulder as they stayed on the move. Now, as she walked into the little restaurant she immediately felt herself become wary. She was back on the clock.
Do I ever go off the clock
, she asked herself.

Parkman waited outside as they had decided that they’d never do anything together while in Montone.

Two customers sat eating at a table in the corner and a lone man dressed all in black stood at the counter sipping from a very small cup. The man behind the counter was overweight and wearing a large white apron with stains on it. Sarah scanned the small pizzeria and saw what she was looking for. A Coca-Cola cooler stood in the corner. She walked over to it, keeping a peripheral eye on everyone, and grabbed two bottles of water. She turned back to the counter and pulled out a couple American dollars. They didn’t plan on staying in Italy for long so they hadn’t changed any money over to Euros yet.

Sarah had no idea what to say in Italian.

The heavy owner came over to her and said, “Buongiorno.”

She handed him a couple American one dollar bills. He accepted them with a smile.

Sarah headed for the door but not before looking back at the man dressed in black. He’d been watching her the whole time she was in the pizzeria.

Parkman was waiting across the street, surveying the hills beyond.

“Parkman, here’s your water.”

She opened hers and chugged half of it back before Parkman even started on his.

“Any problems in there?”

“There was a guy all dressed in black that stared at me the whole time. I didn’t engage him as I would have no idea what to say in Italian so I let him stare and here I am.”

“It’s probably nothing. If it was one of Soprano’s men he wouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

They turned and headed up the cobblestoned ramp that led into Montone, passing through where a gate had once kept invaders out.

The town was vast, the walls high and made of fieldstone. Sarah was in awe at the immense walls and sheer height of the buildings from an era gone by. A couple of tourists walked by speaking English in a distinctive British accent.

Parkman lightly touched Sarah’s arm and pulled her to the side. “Okay, Sarah, here’s where I go my way and you yours.”

“Where do we meet?”

“No idea. Look, if you’re supposed to be here and there’s some leader of an immigration scam group here, as per Vivian who seems to always be right, then my guess is you will be meeting them soon. I’m going to go my way, but I’ll be watching for you too. Worst case, we meet at sundown out here at the gates and walk back to Umbertide. When we came in on the train I saw a hotel called Hotel Rio. We’ll stay there the night. Deal?”

“Sure. Just be careful. And watch out for guys dressed all in black. I don’t know why but that guy got under my skin.”

Parkman nodded and walked away, heading up a ramp to another part of the town. Sarah continued straight which led her to an open square.

Does every town have a piazza?
she asked herself.

Two different restaurants served meals and wine to the patrons seated outside under umbrellas. One of them served gelato. She scanned the people and watched the buildings about her but found nothing untoward.

Four or five cobblestone paths led away from the piazza in multiple directions. She had no idea which one to take or where any of them would lead.

She decided on the one on the right just past the gelateria. As she turned up it and started her ascent, she realized that she was being watched. There was no way she would be able to enter Montone and not be watched. Not if the boss was here. No way.

But where were they watching her from?

She climbed the narrow road that almost looked like a wide path. When she turned a corner she saw two men sitting on a bench. Neither one was dressed in black. They appeared to be in their fifties or sixties, idly watching as people walked by.

It must be an Italian thing. She’d seen it before in Bologna and Umbertide.

When she passed she kept them in her peripheral. They had looked at her but paid her no special attention.

She wondered how Parkman was getting along. Maybe they should have had cell phones or some other form of communication in case either one of them required help. Although, since this working together thing was new to Sarah, it wouldn’t have been something she would’ve thought of.

When she reached the top of the little road she saw a group of seven men setting up some kind of concert apparatus. Maybe they were going to have a show or a festival event of some kind. Lights and a stage were being fixed up. Two black vans were parked with their back doors open as everyone worked away at getting things ready for whatever was coming.

An old man with a cane was coming toward her. She smiled and moved to step past him.

“Another funeral,” he said.

Sarah was surprised and elated to hear English. “You speak English. That’s great.”

The old man stopped walking and leaned heavily on his cane. He had to look up at her as he was about five feet tall.

“My son went to school in America. I learned English many years ago.”

He had an accent but Sarah couldn’t place it.

“What’s your accent? It doesn’t sound Italian.”

“That’s what happens when you have an American educated son and a British wife. My Italian is fine but my English has been confused.”

Sarah smiled. Cute old man. She looked around to make sure he wasn’t a decoy, trying to avert her attention to a possible attack. The men setting up the stage were all acting normal. There were no furtive glances or hushed words. None of them even noticed her standing and talking to the old man.

Maybe there was nothing in Montone after all? But then why would Vivian say she should use the fire?

“Well, your English sounds great to me. I don’t know any Italian so it’s a pleasure to talk to you. What was that you said about another funeral?”

“They’re setting up for a funeral. Similar to a eulogy in your country. The mayor does this big speech and everyone comes to pay their respects.”

“Who died? Was it someone important? Did you know the person?”

A soft breeze wafted past Sarah, cooling the sweat on her forehead. She lifted the water bottle and drained the rest of it.

The area was quiet other than the men who continued their work. Everything felt right in the world.

“A Hungarian man died.”

Alarm bells started ringing. “Hungarian? Why is there a funeral all the way out here in Montone?”

“The man’s body won’t be here. This is more of a ceremonial funeral. The man died in Hungary yesterday. He was in custody, so I’ve been told. People here in Montone worked with him. They set all this up as a way to send a message.”

Alarm bells in her head were firing rapidly now. A message? What kind of message? Was this a mafia thing?

“I’m not sure I’m following. Wait,” Sarah raised a finger and paused. She wanted to see if this old man knew more than he was letting on. “Do you know a man named Drake Bellamy?” 

The old man looked away and then started away from her, using his cane to guide him.

“Come in about an hour and watch the funeral. Then you’ll see what I’m talking about. It’s disgusting but necessary. So they say.”

“So who says?” she asked. “You didn’t answer my question.” But the old man was already ten feet away. He waved his hand to say goodbye.

Sarah moved from the area quickly, intent on finding Parkman.

Something was happening and it was connected to Hungary. A man died in custody and a funeral for him was being held in an hour in Montone. Too coincidental.

That’s probably why that man in the pizzeria where she bought the water was dressed in black.

And why did the old man walk away when she asked about Drake Bellamy?

Maybe finding out who died in Hungarian custody would shed some light on what was happening here?

She headed down the cobblestone road she’d come up and searched for Parkman for almost forty five minutes. She couldn’t find him anywhere. All the people in the town square had left and the shops had closed. Montone almost seemed like it had turned into a ghost town in under an hour.

The funeral would be starting shortly. That must be the reason. Everyone was going to be present at the eulogy.

She started back to where the men had been setting everything up with the intention of finding the old Italian man. She would need him to translate the service for her.

But where was Parkman?

Chapter 15

People were assembled in the area in front of the stage. Sarah leaned against a stone wall and watched everything from the rear. She counted at least one hundred people. Men, women and children stood around, chatting to each other. At least eighty percent of them were dressed in black.

There was a congregation of men around the podium area. They stood by three vehicles that had made it up the narrow cobblestone roads. Things were definitely abuzz. Something was happening and it was big for this little town.

Sarah kept her eyes out for any sign of Parkman but couldn’t see him. Had things gone south already?

She looked at the surrounding buildings. Windows as high as three stories up were closed with their shutters closed too. A survey of the roofs eased her concerns of snipers.

“Sarah, ready for the show?” the old man from earlier stood two feet away.

She couldn’t help it. She actually jumped. “Yeah.” She collected herself and then asked, “Does this happen often?”

“No, only when someone dies.”

“I realize that. What I mean is, how often is this kind of spectacle taking place for a funeral?”