The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) (35 page)

Falcone checked his mobile. “I’ve got two dozen officers securing the warehouse and the goods stored in it. I’m impatient to see what we find, but there’s no news yet.” He continued doodling on the notepad.

“What about the vault? Has anyone looked inside the crates? Are they full of artworks?”

“We don’t know yet. It’s a crime scene and needs to be thoroughly examined. When that’s done, I’ll bring in an expert to inspect whatever the vault contains. It may take a while.”

“You’re not an art expert then?”

“Not at all. I had some training of course, but my skills are purely investigative. When I need expert advice I call on specialists.” He shifted on his chair, moving his shoulder as though testing whether it still hurt. From the expression on his face, I gathered that it did.

I slumped back in my chair, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last few days.

“So,” I said, finally. “Knowing what you do about Santini and his criminal activities, why did you tell Claire and me that you thought Ethan was implicated?”

“At the time I was operating only on Santini’s information, which implied that Simon Hamilton was looking for the vault. That opened up the possibility that Ethan too was involved, a scenario confirmed by your Detective Lake in London.”

My cheeks burned. “I hope you’ll both admit you were wrong. And let’s not forget that Ethan’s still missing.” I stood up, pushing my chair back. The feet squealed on the tiled floor. “We need to find him.”

Falcone gestured for me to sit. “I assure you that every effort is being made to recover him safely. Please, Kate, sit and be patient. You’ll achieve nothing by running around Florence looking for your friend.”

He beckoned the young policeman over. “Can you get me an espresso, please?” He raised his brows at me, and I nodded. My little burst of anger dissolved, leaving me tired and dispirited. I felt as though I’d been on a long-haul flight, woozy, aching and with that gritty sensation in my eyes and mouth that recycled air always seemed to generate.

The officer saluted Falcone so smartly I was surprised he didn’t dent his cap. I’d begun to realize that Falcone was a celebrity of sorts within the police force. Everyone treated him with the utmost respect.

“Back in Venice,” I said. “Did you honestly think Ethan was trying to get to the Custodians’ treasure before Santini? Is that what Santini believed?”

Falcone nodded. “Dante had seized Ethan, but Santini didn’t know that at the time. He simply knew that Ethan had the key and that he’d disappeared.”

“And you thought Claire and I were helping Ethan?”

“It was a legitimate premise based on the information I had then.”

“So why didn’t you bring us in then? Deliver us to Santini?”

The officer came back and placed fragrant cups of espresso on the desk. Falcone picked up the tiny cup and cradled it in his long fingers. He drained it in one swallow and set the cup down.

“Please remember I did
not
work for Santini. And, in spite of what you think of me, I’m not in the habit of deceiving innocent young women or handing them over as offerings to an unscrupulous fraud.”

He drew another line on the pad. The doodle had started to look like a spider’s web. I wondered who the spider was. Falcone himself? Dante? I was definitely feeling like a fly, all wrapped up in sticky threads.

“So Santini had a complete set of keys to the warehouse?” I asked. “I thought it only belonged to Dante.”

“Santini also had a set. The warehouse and the vault belonged, if that’s the right word, to the Vanucci family for generations. The brothers were both able to enter it at will.”

I remembered now that Dante had told us “only two people have access to this warehouse.” I’d assumed he meant himself and Rocco.

“Earlier today,” Falcone continued. “Santini sent a messenger to me with a set of keys and the access codes for the keypads on the electronic doors. He said I should be there, and to bring a few trusted officers for backup in case it turned out to be necessary.”

“
Trusted
as in crooked?”

“That’s what he expected, naturally. He was forced into doing a deal with his brother because he needed that diagram, but he was deeply suspicious of him. My presence and the additional gun power were intended to provide security in the event that Dante tried to double-cross him.”

“That didn’t exactly work out for him, did it?”

Falcone grimaced. “No. I failed in that regard.”

I thought of Santini’s smug smile while he drank wine at the villa and talked about his dying parishioners as if they were another race. He hadn’t believed that death could touch him. Perhaps I should have told him about his aura before he left the house.

The house
. “I just remembered something that might help you,” I said. “Last night, a van came to the villa where we were being held. Santini’s people unloaded the van. There were a dozen or more boxes. Maybe a consignment of relics?”

Falcone put down his pen and gazed at me, as though trying to intuit whether I was telling the truth. “You said you were blindfolded for the drive to the house and again when you were taken away this morning,” he said. “Would you be able to locate the place?”

“I think so. When we escaped, we saw a specific landmark, the Ponte Buriano. I should be able to work it out. But I wonder why Santini would store his relics at the villa, not in the warehouse? It’d be so much better protected.”

“For the same reason that he wanted me to be at the vault. He didn’t trust his brother. As far as Santini was concerned, the relic smuggling was his own private operation, and the proceeds were to be his alone. He was irrationally suspicious of Dante, almost to the point of paranoia, in my opinion. But, hiding the relics in Rome, right under the nose of the Church, was one step too risky. And so he found another storage place, one that he could readily access when he wanted to sell an item.”

I took a sip of my espresso. It burned my throat like acid. I put the cup on its saucer and pushed it away. I’d had too much caffeine for one day. Not to mention too much stress and anxiety, and it wasn’t over yet. Until we found Ethan, and I saw Claire again, nothing would be right.

“So you could locate this villa?” Falcone asked again. “We checked records for details of Santini’s real estate holdings and there is no house in the Arezzo area listed.”

“Maybe it’s in Dante’s name?” I really didn’t care about the relics right now. I just wanted to find Ethan. A glance at my watch showed it was almost ten, more than two hours since we’d found that he was missing again. “Have you had any news on Dante’s whereabouts?” I asked. “Have you checked his apartment?”

“Of course. And there is a country-wide alert out for him. If he tries to board a train or a plane, we’ll catch him.” He stood up. “Let’s go.”

I remained on my chair, staring up at him. “I’m not going anywhere until we know that Claire’s all right and we find Ethan.”

Falcone frowned at me, but his mobile rang and he answered it immediately. He listened and nodded. “
Si, bene, grazie.”

“An officer is accompanying Claire to this office,” he said when he finished the call. “It seems that she is better. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“That’s good news, although I hoped the call had something to do with Ethan.”

“Patience, Kate.” He took off the white sling and moved his arm around. “Better.”

“Hmm. I think you’re just being brave.” Although I tried not to, I’d found myself staring at the space above his head, where the aura had been. Now, it was as if it had never existed.

He looked at me quizzically and raised his hand to smooth down his hair. “Do I have a bad haircut?”

“What?” I was startled that he’d noticed. Heat flushed my neck. He waited, not saying anything.

“I can see auras that predict death,” I blurted out. “You had one but now it’s gone. It went away when that bullet didn’t kill you.”

“The bullet failed to kill me only because you saved me from it,” he responded. “But tell me more about this aura? What does it mean?”

“It’s a phenomenon that I call an aura, for lack of a better word. It looks as though the air over someone’s head is moving in circles. To me, that means he or she is going to die soon. The aura only appears when death is imminent, no more than a week or two away. Claire and Ethan have auras too. Santini had one. And he’s dead.”

As Falcone sat down again, I asked myself what had compelled me to describe my bizarre gift to a law enforcement officer. I’d tried that once before with a detective in England and merely succeeded in convincing him I was unstable.

To my surprise, Falcone nodded as though he understood. “I was curious,” he said. “Your eyes tend to drift to a place a few centimeters over the head of the person you’re talking to.”

“Really? I didn’t realize I did that.”

“It’s part of my job to notice people’s tics. You’d be surprised at how much we give away about ourselves with the smallest of movements and reactions.”

I thought of Josh and the way he jiggled his leg when he was impatient or nervous. Or my project manager Laura, who laughed uproariously when she got angry. I could read them both. It’d never struck me that I might be equally transparent.

“And this gift of yours?” he asked. “Have you always been able to see these auras?”

“No. It’s a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it,” he said. “Perhaps while we drive to Arezzo?”

We walked across the lobby of the police station just as Claire came in through the front door. I stopped in mid-stride when I saw her, sorry to see that her aura still swirled over her head. The danger in the vault had passed, and the doctors had released her from the hospital. So now what? Dante was still free. Somehow he had to be the threat to her.

Falcone looked over his shoulder at me. “Shall we go?”

I nodded, dashing forward to give Claire a hug. She was still pale, and her hair hung lank over her shoulders. I was glad she didn’t ask me if her aura was still there. Instead, she peppered Falcone with questions about Ethan, and he gave her the same answers he’d given me.

“The police are searching for Ethan,” he said. “And Dante will be stopped if he tries to leave the country. The best thing is for you to go home. We have officers outside your building already, watching out for your brother. I will have someone escort you. You’ll be well protected. Kate is coming with me to Santini’s villa and she will rejoin you later.”

“No,” I said. “I’m staying with Claire.”

“But I need you to come with me,” Falcone said.

“And what I need is my brother.” Claire took a step towards Falcone, glaring at him. “Why aren’t you out looking for him? What’s so important about Santini’s villa that you’re going there at this time of night?”

Falcone glanced at me before answering her. “I assure you, everyone is looking for your brother,” he said. “I can do nothing useful by remaining in Florence right now.”

Claire’s eyes welled with tears. “I can’t sit at home just waiting.”

Falcone pursed his lips and checked his watch, not hiding his impatience very well.

“Then we’ll both go to Arezzo,” I said. “At least we’ll be in motion, and anything is better than waiting around.”

“Claire?” Falcone asked. “What would you rather do?”

“I’ll come with you,” Claire said finally, wiping away tears.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were seated in the back of a comfortable Alfa Romeo, followed by a Carabinieri van occupied by Oberto and a dozen officers. Within seconds of closing the car door, Claire fell asleep, her head resting against the window.

As we headed out of the city south on the A1 towards Rome, the vehicles in front of us threw up plumes of spray that kept our windscreen wipers squeaking back and forth. Traffic was light at this late hour, but any car that moved too slowly for our driver’s liking was promptly warned off by a wail of a siren.

When we passed the exit to the road that led to my father’s house, I felt a lump in my throat. I hated doing anything that worried him, although I knew he’d be feeling better now that Leo had told him I was all right. Still, I wanted to go home. This day seemed never-ending. I crossed my arms, suddenly resentful that Falcone was dragging me around the Tuscan countryside in the middle of the night. Surely, I’d more than done my duty by now.

“So, these auras,” Falcone said. “I find the concept quite fascinating.”

“They’re not.” I let my bad mood get the better of me.

He settled back in his seat, and pulled the collar up on his coat even though the car was warm.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”

He reached out and patted my hand. “Take a nap,” he suggested.

But I wanted to talk, I decided. The few people who were aware of my strange ability had wildly differing reactions to it. Leo had been resistant for a long time but, thanks to the level-headed response of his wife, Olivia, he’d come round. My boyfriend was totally supportive, as was my friend Anita. Dad didn’t want to know. I didn’t blame him. He was having a hard time getting over my mum’s death and he was a fiercely practical man. Claire’s ghosts would evoke the same reaction from him as my auras. He didn’t believe in an after-life.

I twisted slightly in my seat to face Falcone. “I saw my first aura here in Tuscany, over the head of my dad’s neighbor. A week later she was dead. It took me a while to understand that the aura predicted death.”

“Did something happen to initiate this aura-seeing ability? Did you have a fall? A blow to the head?”

“No. It was something to do with my mum. Nearly two years ago, she was killed on a pedestrian crossing by an elderly driver. Three months later, she came to me while I was walking on a hill near my dad’s house. I talked to her.”

“You talked with your dead mother?”

“Yes. Weird, huh?”

“Not so much,” he said. “My dear departed grandmother could see spirits. She had long conversations with my deceased grandfather, apparently, and with complete strangers who’d lived in our old house over the past century or two.”

I smiled, thinking of Claire and her ghost in the Vasari Corridor.