The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) (30 page)

“I saw you there, getting in the taxi,” I said. “Didn’t you see me?”

Ethan shook his head. “I was watching the building entrance. I wanted the man to follow me. I knew I could lose him in traffic, and I didn’t want him anywhere near the
Della Pittura
.”

“Why didn’t you just let him have it?” Claire asked.

Ethan blinked. “Give it up? It never crossed my mind. It meant something special to Dad, important enough for him to store it in the safety deposit box. And I’d been doing some research on it. Dad was writing a story…” Ethan paused and swallowed hard. “Of course, if I’d known then what we were getting into, I would have gladly handed it over. I’m sorry I dragged you both through this.” He looked up at me, eyes wide. “Is Ben’s death related to the
Della Pittura
?”

“I think it must be. They told me Ben was killed in your office. So maybe your pursuer went in there looking for you.” I decided not to tell Ethan that Lake suspected him of Ben’s murder. There’d be time for that later.

Claire gave me a nod of acknowledgement. This was no time to worry about Lake and his ridiculous suspicions. “So what did you do next?” she asked.

“I told the cab driver we needed to lose the taxi behind us, and we did. The driver was brilliant. Once I was sure we were clear of the man in the macintosh, I texted Kate to bring the book to the restaurant.”

“Ethan,” I said, leaning forwards to tap him on the arm. “You realize you sent me an indecipherable message? If I hadn’t reached Leo, I’d never even have found the safe.”

Ethan’s cheeks flushed. “I knew it was a risk but I was too nervous to send a clear text. That chap somehow had my phone number. I thought maybe he could access my phone contents.”

“So then what?” Claire prompted.

“I intended to hide the book in my bank’s safety deposit box. Somewhere no one would be able find it.”

“I waited with the book at Le Papillon for nearly an hour. You never turned up,” I said.

“No. I got out of the taxi a few meters from the restaurant. A nasty-looking man was hanging out in front, and I had a funny feeling he was watching me, so I walked away up the street. I called the police but, honestly, they didn’t seem interested in helping. It didn’t seem safe to go into the restaurant, so I decided to come to Florence, to be with Claire. I thought we could work this out together. That’s when I texted you again, Kate, with the message to bring the book over here.” He paused. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind, that you’d spend time with your dad. I know it was a bit of an imposition, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Of course I didn’t mind. But how were you planning to get to Florence?”

“I was about to flag down another taxi with the intention of going to St. Pancras station, when the thug who’d been waiting outside the restaurant came up behind me. He had a gun and he told me to get in a van parked nearby. I can’t imagine how he worked out that I was heading to the restaurant, but I suspect my phone gave me away. They can track people using GPS coordinates, I suppose. Anyway, they shoved me in the back of the van and chained my ankle to a bench. Then we sped off. We drove for quite a while. When we stopped, they bundled me into a space under the floor of the van. I think we must have been going through border control. Then we were on a boat, a ferry to Calais, I’d guess.”

Ethan’s eyelids drooped. He startled and blinked himself awake again. “Sorry, it’s the painkillers they’re giving me. Make me sleepy. Anyway— to keep things short— they roughed me up when I didn’t answer their questions about what I had found out and where the key and the
Della Pittura
were. And we just kept driving and driving. We ended up in a house in the country, I’d guess, because I heard no traffic and lots of birds. A doctor patched up my knee, and they let me sleep for a day or so. I don’t remember much else, until this afternoon.”

“You poor thing.” Claire’s cheeks were wet with tears. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I want to get you home where you can be more comfortable.”

Ofelia looked up. “You can go soon, when signor Vanucci returns.”

I checked my watch, wondering what was keeping Dante. Still, I was eager to find out what Ethan knew about his captors. “Did you ever meet the cardinal?” I asked him. “Santini?”

“No. I only ever saw the two or three thugs who captured me and beat me up.” He sat up straighter, wincing as he moved.

“Santini’s men,” Claire muttered. “The bastards.”

“Who is this Santini?” Ethan asked.

Between us, Claire and I stumbled through an abbreviated version of what had happened since I found the
Della Pittura
in Ethan’s safe on Friday night. I related my arrival in Florence, our trip to Venice and our visit to Luca Gardi.

“We found a notebook of Dad’s, a list of artworks and a strange diagram. Then Kate and Leo were able to decipher the code for the instructions on how to open the vault,” Claire told him.

Ethan’s eyes lit up for a second. “Leo? Is he here?”

“No,” I said. “We did it by phone. He’s going to be so happy to hear that you’re okay. We were all worried, to put it mildly.”

“But then we were kidnapped by Santini,” Claire said.

“Good grief.” Ethan’s eyes were bright with tears. “I put you two in so much danger.”

Claire pulled a tissue from a box on his bedside table and dabbed at his cheeks. “It’s not your fault. Besides, it’s over now. We’re all fine, apart from your poor knee.”

“It’s not that bad.” He smiled, but I guessed he was being brave. “I wonder if Dad would mind very much if he knew we’d given up the book and the key?” he asked.

“He wouldn’t mind,” I said. “He’d want you both to be safe.”

“Which we are now, thank God,” Claire said.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she and Ethan still had auras.

In the long silence that followed, I listened to the rain beating on the windows and a soft swell of thunder rolling over the city.

“So you managed to escape from the villa in the country?” Ethan asked finally, returning to our recounting of the events of the past three days.

“Actually, Dante rescued us.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet this Dante chappie. He seems to be quite the hero.”

I wasn’t so sure.

“Yes. That’s what he’s been working on today.” Claire’s eyes shone and her cheeks were flushed pink. “I should go thank him for everything he’s done.” She stroked Ethan’s hair back from his face. “I won’t be long, and then we’ll work out how to get you home to my flat. I can look after you until you’re well enough to go back to London.”

London
. My heart beat faster. I looked at my watch. It was later than I’d thought, almost six o clock. There were no flights out of Florence to London at this time of the day, but I’d go to my dad’s for the night and get an early morning flight. With any luck, I’d still make it to the Randall meeting. The prospect of spending an evening at home with Dad made me happy.

As Claire stood and walked across the room, I looked from her to Ethan, my euphoria dissipating. They were both still in danger. I couldn’t understand it. Why weren’t they safe? Unless, for the first time since I’d started seeing auras, these were different. Could they signify something else?

My thoughts were all tangled up. I couldn’t think straight. I’d never been wrong about auras before.

Claire reached the door and opened it. Rocco stood there, braced as usual with his feet apart and his arms crossed across his broad chest.

“Rocco, did you help rescue Ethan? Thank you so much.”

Rocco smiled. “
Prego
.” You’re welcome.

“I want to talk to Dante.” Claire stepped forward to pass him.

“He’s on his way up. He said to wait here. He’s just giving you time to reunite.” It was by far the longest speech I’d ever heard from him.

Claire turned back and sat on the bed with Ethan. I couldn’t settle, still grappling with the presence of those auras, so I paced around the room and then asked Ethan if there was a loo I could use. He directed me to the white-painted door the nurse had come through. It led to a small bathroom with a toilet, a sink and a stone-tiled shower with glass doors. A cluster of medicine bottles and a white box containing two clean syringes lay on the counter of the vanity. Poor Ethan must have been in a lot of pain. I picked up one of the bottles, labeled as hydrocodone, a powerful painkiller. Last year, I’d learned more about pharmaceuticals than I’d imagined possible, while helping to rescue my doctor friend Anita. When I put the bottle down on the counter, I noticed that the one next to it was for diazepam, a sedative. No wonder Ethan appeared so dazed and disoriented.

I splashed water on my face. A quick glance at the mirror showed the ravages of sleepless nights and stress. Pale skin, dark circles under my eyes, and dry lips. My hair at least was clean and had dried into soft waves after my morning shower but I couldn’t wait to get into different clothes. I was still wearing what I’d put on at my father’s house two days ago.

I dried my face and hands. While we waited for Dante, I’d call Dad. He’d come to get me. That thought lightened my step as I went back into the bedroom, where Ethan and Claire were talking quietly, holding hands. It would have been a touching scene if not for the auras that eddied over them.

There was a light knock on the door, and then Dante walked in.

Claire jumped to her feet. “You found Ethan, thank you!” she cried, throwing herself into Dante’s arms.

He stroked her hair and then pushed her away gently. “Please. No thanks are needed. Sit down and we’ll talk.”

“How? How did you rescue him?” Claire asked, but Dante looked at the nurse, who’d already closed her book. She stood when he spoke to her, asking her in fast Italian how Ethan was doing. She responded that he was improving and his knee was going to be fine.

“
Bene, bene.
” Dante looked around as though seeking somewhere to sit.

“Here,” I offered, standing up. “Take this chair.”

I settled on the bed next to Claire, careful not to jostle Ethan’s leg.

“I’m so glad it all worked as you planned.” Claire leaned towards Dante. “Did you give Santini the diagram? Did he get into the vault? Where did you find Ethan?”

Dante crossed his legs and gazed up at the ceiling. He seemed pensive and preoccupied, not really listening. After a while, he looked over at us.

“I have something to tell you.”

Claire nodded, smiling. She held Ethan’s hand. I shifted around in an attempt to ease the pain in my back, but I was concerned that I’d hurt Ethan, so I got up and leaned against the wall instead. My skin prickled with worry. Claire and Ethan still had auras. Something wasn’t right. Had Dante somehow stolen Ethan from Santini without giving up the diagram? If so, then Santini wasn’t done with us. He’d be searching for us, looking for this wretched piece of paper that would give him access to the vault. I had a feeling Dante was about to deliver that bad news.

Dante pulled his pristine white cuffs straight, looking directly into Claire’s eyes. “Let me explain exactly how this will go,” he said. “Ethan remains here. Claire, you and Kate will come with me. You’re going to help me open the vault.”

Ethan’s head jerked up. I pushed away from the wall, adrenaline coursing through my body.

“I don’t understand,” Claire said to Dante. “You want to open the vault?”

“That’s correct. And you’ve found the code that explains how to find the lock, I believe.”

How did Dante know that we had decoded the instructions? While my brain wrestled with that question, I asked him another, more obvious one.

“But you don’t have the key,” I said. “How are you able to get into the vault without it?”

“Santini has the key.”

“You’re working with Santini?” Claire’s voice shook. She appeared to have gone into shock, her face as white as the blanket that covered Ethan, her eyes wide and round.

Dante ignored her question. “Sit down, Kate, where I can see you.”

That was all right with me. I’d guessed all along that Dante was involved but still, my knees had started to shake. I stumbled back to the bed, perched on the edge and grasped Ethan’s hand.

“I don’t understand,” Claire said. “You told us earlier that you don’t believe in the vault or the Custodians. You said Santini was stupid to be so obsessed with it.”

He shrugged. “There was a time when I thought that way, yes. But when the
Della Pittura
resurfaced, I decided to explore the possibility that the vault still held the Custodians’ treasure.”

“But you rescued us.” Claire’s voice trembled.

She stood up, rocking slightly on her feet. I was worried she might faint.

“I didn’t rescue you,” Dante said. “I kidnapped you so that I’d have something to negotiate with. My brother may have the key, but you two have more information that he needs. And you were able to confirm that the diagram is an important component in the protection of the vault.”

“Did you kidnap Ethan in England?” I asked. “It was never Santini?”

“That’s right,” Dante said. “Ethan knew nothing of any use to me, but, as long as I had him, I could draw you both in. Unfortunately, my idiot crew lost you in Bologna, and Santini got to you before I did. Still, that was a minor hiccup. It all worked out in the end.”

“But Santini told us he had Ethan,” I said. “Why would he lie about that?”

“To make you do what he wanted, which was to give him the key. He was aware I had Ethan all along.”

I remembered how Santini had looked confused for a moment when Claire asked him where he was keeping her brother. I should have picked up on that. “So are you collaborating with your brother or competing with him?” I asked.

Dante shrugged. “Whatever it takes to gain access to the vault.”

Dark shadows hung in the corners of the room. I heard rain tapping like fingernails on the window and the breathy whispering of the wind. Dante kept checking his watch, an expensive Swiss model that gleamed against his tanned wrist. “Enough chat. It’s time to go. Santini is on his way from Arezzo.”

“We can’t help you,” I said. “We don’t know anything.”