Midnight Angels (30 page)

Kate tore through the pages now, the hours of the night slipping past her, the city silent and far removed from the private world she was immersed in, a world that until this day had been kept at a distance. She felt a sense of relief as she read the section where her mother confronted David and dismissed his request that she leave Frank and turn the Society over to the ambitious and ruthless young man. “If you could only have one,” Andrea had said to David, “me or the Society, which would you choose?”

David had not hesitated in responding, and hearing his calculating and chilling words, Andrea realized the full extent of her mistake. “There is no need for me to choose,” he said to her, “for I can’t conceive of one without the other.”

“But if there were only one?” she asked again, fearing she already knew the answer, “what then?”

“I would choose the one that will be remembered long after both of us are gone,” David said. “We can each find someone to comfort us and carry us through, but the potential rewards the Society can bring, the power it can accumulate and the riches that will follow? It is too precious to ignore.”

“The Society is not yours for the taking,” Andrea had told him. “It never will be.”

Kate brushed the tears from her face as she read about her mother’s reconciliation with her father and how easily he forgave her, despite the obvious pain the affair had caused him. She bore the brunt of her guilt for the rest of her life, never managing fully to come to grips with the reasons why she had embarked on the affair, especially when she was forced to confront the fact that she had never fallen out of love with Frank or in love with David. “I have been in the arms of two men in my life,” Andrea wrote. “One was a man I should have never been with, and the other is a man I should never have been apart from. That I betrayed one for the other is what I will always find unforgivable.”

Then, as she continued to read, and believing the worst was over, Kate was hit with a passage that shook her to the core, her hands trembling and the words barely legible as she fought to hold the journal steady. It was a section three paragraphs long and written in a straightforward manner, the words uncluttered by any show of emotion. It dealt with Andrea’s pregnancy, which she had kept to herself for the first three months. She did so not out of any concern about losing the baby or any uncertainty as to whether she would even have the child. She kept it quiet for as long as possible because she was not sure who the father was—David or Frank. “Then,” she wrote, “I made a clear and simple decision. Frank was my husband and the man I truly loved, and therefore was the father of my child. There would be no need to conduct any tests or discuss the matter any further. The baby I carry belongs to the two of us.”

Kate closed the journal and stepped down from the side of the bridge. She held the book close to her chest and walked toward the dark and silent streets. She needed to do what her mother had done before her—separate her emotions from the facts confronting her at the moment—even though she remained uncertain whether she had the inner strength and clear sense of purpose to accomplish such a feat. As she walked, she realized there were three huge truths she needed to come to terms with.

The first was that her parents had died at the hands of the man she had come to know as the Raven. Those, she could seek to avenge.

The second was that he was the very same man who was the lover her mother knew as David. That, she would need to digest and eventually forgive.

The third was that the Raven could very well be her father. And that fact was the one that frightened her to the point of surrender.

She turned a corner and was now in Piazza Santa Maria Novella. She found an empty bench, sat and stared out at the empty square and realized that whatever else she would confront in the days ahead, from this moment forward her life would not be the same.

Now, after so many years and so many unanswered questions, she finally knew her parents for who they really were, and she felt a closer attachment to them than ever before. She also was now fully aware of the goals of the Society and her place in helping to achieve them. She had a better understanding of the power and scope of the organization that was built by her parents and nourished by Professor Edwards, and she realized how crucial it was for her to carry out those responsibilities.

Kate gazed at a cluster of pigeons seeking out crumbs and pecking at tiny specks of food. Behind her, she could feel the warmth of a rising sun, the start of a new day.

CHAPTER
6

T
HE FIAT 124 CRUISED THROUGH THE NARROW SIDE STREET, MADE
a sharp right, rear tires squealing, and took dead aim at Kate and Marco. The two were out for a run, Kate needing to burn away some of the tension she felt from reading her parents’ journal, Marco tagging along more out of concern than desire. It was early morning and they were running along the rim of the Boboli Gardens. Kate turned as soon as she heard the rumble of the engine and the sharp shifting of the gears. She slapped at Marco’s arm to get his attention away from the sounds of Zuccero blasting through his iPod and pointed toward the entrance to the Pitti Palace. “Let’s get in there quick,” she said. “He’s coming pretty fast.”

Marco turned and saw the Fiat, now less than five hundred feet away, and picked up his pace. “A driver and second man in the seat next to him,” he said. “Maybe they’re just trying to scare us.”

“How’s that working for them so far?” Kate asked as she took a sharp curve and ran through the Palace gates and the entrance to the Gardens.

“This way,” Marco said, pointing at a path to their right, shaded on all sides by thick shrubbery. “We can run in between the trees. Not even a car as small as what they have can manage those turns.”

Kate skidded to a stop. The Fiat 124 had ground to a halt just off the entrance to the Palace, and the two men were out now and chasing after them on foot. “Looks like they thought of that, too,” she said. “We need to outrun them and get to the other side of the park.”

“Do you think they have guns?” he asked.

“I would say that there’s a very good chance,” Kate said, “and an even better chance that they plan on using them on us.”

“Then yes,” Marco said, picking up his pace and rushing toward the shrubs, “I am more than up to the run.”

Kate and Marco sprinted, the two men giving chase, close enough to be a threat but not within range of getting off a clear shot. The few pedestrians in the Gardens were spread out, casually going about their chosen tasks of quick runs, brisk walks, or casual strolls through one of the most serene stretches of land in the city, unaware of the potential danger in their midst. It was still too early for the daily army of tourists to walk the lush Garden paths, making the sounds of harsh breathing, pounding steps against dirt and pavement, intermingled with birds chattering in the tree coverage, the only noise.

As they rounded a sharp turn down a stretch of dirt road surrounded by tall pines, Kate stepped on a large rock and turned her ankle, sending her on a hard face-first sprawl to the ground. Marco stopped and rushed to her side, looking up to see the two men charging hard to make up the distance between them.

“Help me to my feet,” Kate said. “And then start running and don’t stop until you reach the other end of the Gardens.”

“I won’t leave you behind,” Marco said, lifting her off the ground.

“They don’t need to catch us both,” she told him.

“Why not wait and find out what they want?”

Kate turned to see Captain Antonio Rumore step out from the tree cover, wearing a Roma sweatshirt and sweatpants, the ring around his neck coated with sweat.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, both surprised and relieved to see him.

“Same as you,” Rumore said, smiling at her and giving a quick look to Marco. “Out for a run on a beautiful morning.”

Kate caught the look and turned to Marco. “This is Antonio Rumore,” she told him, “a detective from Rome who seems to be following me.”

“And I don’t seem to be alone in that,” Rumore said, reaching out a hand for Marco, who shook it.

The two pursuers were no longer running, but now walked casually toward the three of them. The detective waited until they were close enough to hear him without having to shout and smiled. “You can really improve your time if you run in more appropriate clothing,” he said, pointing at their jackets, slacks, and loafers.

They were both young and sturdy, and Rumore could tell from the bulges beneath their jackets and at the base of their right feet that they each had at least two weapons, possibly more if they were brazen enough to have guns tucked in the backs of their waistbands. He took two steps to his left, shielding both Kate and Marco as best he could from the sight line of the men, and let his hands dangle at his sides, taking a relaxed pose free of any hint of menace.

“It looks to me like you came here to run,” one of the men said to Rumore, “and it would be smart for you to keep to that.”

“You left your car illegally parked near the Palace entrance,” Rumore said. “That’s very much against the law so I was forced to call it in. A truck should be there any minute now to pick it up.”

The second man, stockier, with thinning hair and a pale tint to his skin, moved his right hand closer to the inside of his tan jacket, while he stared hard at Rumore, seconds away from a draw and a shot.

“I don’t have a gun on me,” Rumore said. “So if you make your move, remember you’ll be taking down an unarmed man. An unarmed
policeman
.”

“My favorite kind of target,” the second man said.

“I also don’t have a cell phone,” Rumore said.

“So?”

“Doesn’t it make you a little bit curious as to how I called in your car to the police?” Rumore asked.

Marco, standing behind Rumore, saw them first—four heavily armed officers, in flak jackets and carrying automatic weapons, two partially hidden by thick shrubbery and two edged behind a row of trees, all weapons trained down on the two men.

The second man froze in place while the first stepped closer to Rumore, fully aware of the police officers circling in. “No one wants a shootout,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “Other than leaving the car where it shouldn’t have been left, we haven’t done anything that calls for police involvement.”

“You’re carrying concealed,” Rumore said, “and the last time I checked the rule book, that had a big red mark next to it. And you were also chasing these two kids through the Garden, which would lead a suspicious man like me to conclude that there was some level of malicious intent.”

“What do you want from us?” the first man, the more brazen of the duo, asked.

“You need to tell me what I don’t know,” Rumore said. “I’ll help you by filling you in on what I do know. You work for the Raven, but since you were given a simple catch and grab, I figure you haven’t been working for him very long.”

“We were brought in about a week ago,” the first man said.

“Where were you supposed to bring the girl once you had her?” Rumore asked.

The two men looked at each other and then lowered their heads, unsure which of the two punishments they faced—the wrath of the Raven or the weight of the law—would be more severe.

“A private home,” the second of the two said after several more seconds of silence. “Up by Piazza Michelangelo.”

“What about the boy?” Rumore asked.

“Him, too,” the man said. “He was insurance in case the girl didn’t talk.”

“Otherwise he was collateral,” the other man said. “Either way, not an essential piece.”

“How heavily is the house guarded?” Rumore asked.

“Not sure,” the first man said. “I was only given an address and a time to deliver.”

Rumore turned and faced Kate and Marco. “It has a bit of risk to it, I’ll be the first to admit,” he said to them. “But it does have a number of advantages.”

“What does?” Marco asked, not bothering to mask either his confusion or his fear.

Kate was the one who answered. “We go with them, Marco,” she said in a calm voice. “We let them follow through on the plan.”

“What?”
Marco said, startled. “Why would we do something so stupid?”

“Well, you would not exactly be alone,” Rumore said.

“And what will you be able to do?” Marco asked.

Rumore stepped up closer to Kate and Marco and lowered his voice. “To be honest, this isn’t your decision,” he said to Marco. “You heard what the man had to say about you—collateral. The Raven sees you or he
doesn’t, it won’t matter. It’s Kate he wants, and it’s Kate’s call as to whether or not she goes into the house.”

“If she decides to go, then so will I,” Marco said. “I won’t leave her alone with those cavemen.”

“That would make two of you I would need to get out of there safely,” Rumore said. “And that will make it twice as difficult to succeed, increasing the chance you both won’t come out alive.”

“He’s as much a part of this as I am,” Kate said.

“That sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” Rumore said. “I’ll have as many people as I’ll need covering the outside of the house as soon as we determine its location. I’ll take care of the inside and get to you before any harm can be done.”

“How do we know that for certain?” Marco asked.

“You study art,” Rumore said to him, his eyes still on Kate, “working your way toward a master’s degree. I imagine, then, that you must be very good at what you have chosen to do. Are you?”

“Yes,” Marco said with confidence, “I am very good at it.”

“So am I,” Rumore said.

He held his look on Kate for several seconds, then gazed over toward the officers waiting by the shrubbery and signaled for them to approach. He looked at the two men standing and waiting, both still unsure whether they had made the safer bet by placing themselves in the center of whatever ploy the police devised.

“You were clear as to what might happen if we let you take us in,” the second man said, “but you didn’t say what kind of a deal our cooperation gets us.”