Midnight Angels (36 page)

“Just like you think I am,” Clare said.

“You can’t hide from your bloodline,” Edwards said.

“So, tell me, did my dad get the job done?” she asked.

“You ever hear a story where he didn’t?” Edwards asked. “He cracked the code, got the paintings, and ended up with enough of a cut from his score that I doubt he ever once worried about the cost of the education he bought you.”

The two walked in silence for several minutes, taking in the sounds and sights of the crowded street—the restaurants and cafés preparing for busy lunchtime traffic; the front men for stores selling everything from leather goods to perfumes to pottery, advertising their wares in the middle of the passing crowds; the smiles and looks of wonder mixed with confusion on the faces of children new to the city, clutching their parents’ hands, staring up at buildings that had been put together by hand and designed by men working free of the weight of modern technology.

“I do have a long-term goal,” Clare said. “But it doesn’t affect you, at least not directly. I won’t share it with you just yet, but someday soon I will. For now, just know we’re not working on opposite ends of the field. It just might sometimes appear that way.”

“Can I count on your help against the Raven?” Edwards asked. “I know you’ve done business with him in the past, and there has also been talk about a romantic connection that ended on something of a sour note. None of that matters to me unless it affects this current operation.”

“Will he hurt Kate?” Clare asked. “Is she in danger from him?”

“I wouldn’t be enjoying our little walk if I thought there was the slightest chance of that,” Edwards said. “The Raven has a number of reasons not to harm Kate, prime among them that she’s his key to getting his hands on the Midnight Angels. He’ll do his best to put a scare into her, but for the moment at least she’s safe.”

“He might be holding her, but he’s not the only one who wants to get at Kate,” Clare said. “Just take a walk down any street in the city and you’ll find someone connected to the art world. On my way over to meet you, I caught a glimpse of the Frenchman who is now fully employed by the Russian mob to bring them as much lost and stolen art as he can find. And as you’re aware, to the Russians, cost is no object—though they
would much prefer that payment be shelled out in blood as opposed to cash. This business has changed so much in such a short period of time. It was always brutal, but now it’s like working a war zone.”

“I heard the Frenchman had found his way here,” Edwards said. “But as good as he is, he’ll be nothing but fodder to the Raven. That goes for the dozen or so other hunters walking the side streets. The Raven won’t ever deal with them, and he certainly won’t allow them to harm Kate.”

“What makes you so certain?” Clare asked.

“I know my opponents,” Edwards said.

“Do you have an idea of where the Raven might be keeping her?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said.

“I’d be a much more receptive partner if you made a better effort at sharing your information with me,” Clare said. “It would go a long way toward strengthening the bonds of trust that exist between us.”

“We don’t actually have a bond of trust,” Edwards said, smiling. “More like a bond of convenience.”

“Well, sometimes that works even better,” she said, returning the smile.

“You risk putting yourself into a very dangerous corner,” he said, “with all these moves you’re attempting. All it will take is for one of them to backfire and there will be no hesitation on anyone’s part to put you down.”

“You don’t know what I’m planning,” she said. “You only think you do. And I’m more than capable of handling myself, regardless of the situation.”

“I’m not saying you’re not good at it,” Edwards said. “I am saying that you run the risk of floating too many balloons. One of them is bound to pop.”

“I didn’t realize you cared about my well-being,” Clare said.

“I don’t, not really,” he said. “But I have come to respect you and appreciate the help you’ve given the Society in the past. But there comes a time, Clare, when you have to stop pitting one side against the other and wager that you’ll come out ahead regardless of who ends up the winner. And that time is now.”

“Look, I’ve done business with you in the past, as well as with the Raven,” she said. “And sometimes I’ll cut a deal with the cops or with the
galleries. I really never went out of my way to make that a secret. It’s all part of my job—whatever it takes to get the works back into the right hands and at the right price. But I won’t do anything that hurts the girl. On that, I give you my word.”

“No offense,” Edwards said, “but I’ll need more than your word before I can believe you.”

Clare nodded, stopped walking and leaned against the driver’s side of a parked car. “What do you need?” she asked.

“In order to get Kate back and away from the Raven,” he said, “I’ll need to let him know where the Angels are hidden. At least that’s one of the options I’m considering. Now, he won’t just hand her over, since he won’t be sure whether I’m telling the truth. But he will let her stay with someone he’s in bed with, so to speak, while he goes off in search of the works.”

“And you want me to double-cross the Raven,” Clare said, “so you can safely send him off on a wild goose chase. Yes?”

“On the button,” Edwards said.

“Now with you being so eager to set up the Raven,” she said, “how can I be sure you’re not just as eager to set me up?”

“I’m taking a chance on you,” Edwards said, “and you’ll be taking one with me. By the end of the play, we’ll both know if either of us was less than truthful. That’s my only offer. But I need to know if you’re in before I walk away from here.”

Clare moved away from the car, gazing over at a cluster of boys running and kicking a soccer ball in between the small packs of moving tourists. “You can count on me to do my part, Professor.”

CHAPTER
12

T
HE RAVEN WALKED DOWN THE CENTER AISLE OF THE QUIET CHURCH
and made a left at the altar. He caught a glimpse of a young nun sitting in a second pew, her hands folded, head bowed in prayer, as he made his way toward a rear stairwell, the walls and ceiling shrouded in shadows from dimmed lights and votive candles. He found his way to the basement, cold stone floor and thick concrete walls keeping out both any warmth and potential intruders. A series of hanging lightbulbs lit the way to a massive wooden door marked with a sign that had the word
DANGER
stenciled across the front in four different languages. He turned the old, rusty knob and walked in.

Kate was sitting on a rickety wooden chair, her hands bound, her feet tied to the legs of a large table that dominated the room, a coal-burning stove at her back offering the only warmth. The Raven nodded to the two men standing guard. “I can only imagine my guest must be as hungry as I am,” he said. “Go out and bring us back two decent meals. And make sure you’re not followed. I prefer to eat my lunch free of unwanted company.”

The men walked past the Raven and out of the room.

“I gave you some time to yourself,” he said to Kate, “with the hope it would allow you to give some serious thought to the situation you currently are in.”

“You know, for a man allegedly as smart as you are,” she said, “you can be pretty dense. But despite that, you’re concerned. I can see it on your face.”

The Raven smiled at her. “In what way?” he asked.

“You’re starting to have doubts,” she said to him. “You hide it pretty well, acting as if you are always in complete control, but you’re not really sure what your next move should be.”

“And you have come to this conclusion based on what?” the Raven said.

“Based on the fact that you are starting to doubt whether or not I actually do have the Angels or know where they are,” Kate said. “I mean if I did, I more than likely would have told you by now. I probably would have told you back at the house, right after you hurt Marco. But, even if I had remained strong back there, I would have certainly cracked down here, in some dingy basement, freezing cold, tied, and bound. Still, I haven’t said a word. I’m either the bravest woman you’ve ever met or I’ve been telling you the truth all along.”

“Your friend, the young man,” the Raven said, “is it possible he talked more than he claims? Stumbling on such a rare find is not something someone as naive and inexperienced as he seems to be could keep to himself. More than likely, he would brag about his discovery.”

Kate shrugged, her arms and legs aching from the stiff position she had been placed in and were numb from the tight bonds. “Not one person he might have talked to would have known how to move the Angels, or where to move them. If Marco told anyone where they were initially hidden, the Angels would now be in the custody of the Rome Art Squad.”

“Which then leaves, as always, the professor,” the Raven said.

“I never told him where they were hidden,” Kate said, surprised at the accusation but seeing the logic.

“You wouldn’t have to,” the Raven said. “Richard knows you better than anyone. He understands how your mind operates. And he has enough men in Florence to help him in such a quest, perhaps even a tracker who could report back to him exactly where you shielded the statues from view.”

“He wouldn’t do that and not tell me,” Kate said, her tone defiant.

“In that case, you don’t know your beloved professor as well as you might think you do,” the Raven said.

Kate was about to respond but was silenced by two loud, hard knocks on the door.

The Raven swung the door open and was surprised to see the same
nun he had spotted earlier in the entryway of the church. He glanced down at her feet and saw two large plastic bags filled with packages and containers resting against her legs. “Are you lost, Sister?” he asked.

“No,” the nun said, “I think I’m in the right place. You wanted some food brought down, is that correct?”

“That is true,” the Raven said, taking several cautious steps back. “But you were not who I sent to get it.”

“Your friends are upstairs,” the nun said. “In the first confessional booth, the one just across from the high altar.”

“That doesn’t sound like my friends at all,” he said.

The nun glanced over at Kate and then glared at the Raven. “We all seek out the Lord when death is at hand.”

He reached for the gun he kept jammed in a side holster, but was too slow. The nun moved with a professional’s skill and speed. With three quick gestures she entered the room, closed the door behind her with a rear kick of her right boot, and had a semiautomatic jammed against the Raven’s chest. “I’ve already killed two today,” she said. “A third would not be a problem.”

Despite the gun against his ribs, the Raven managed a slight smile. “What order do you belong to?” he asked.

“I’m Sister Rita of the Sisters of No Mercy,” the nun said.

She reached into a side pocket of her vestments, pulled out a switchblade, and pushed the Raven with the hard edge of the gun closer to Kate, until she was within reach of the young woman. “Lift your hands up to me,” she ordered Kate, her eyes square on the Raven.

Kate pulled her hands up and watched as Rita snapped open the switchblade and began to slice at the twine that bound her.

The Raven stayed motionless, seemingly more amused than threatened by the situation. “You’re pretty good with that,” he noted after Rita had cut Kate’s bonds. “I must applaud the professor on his recruiting methods. I would never have thought to solicit recruits from a convent.”

“Some nuns are married to Christ,” Rita said. “Others are married to their work. You just have to know where to look.”

Rita watched as Kate undid the ropes around her feet and then stood. “He has men stationed outside the church,” she said to Kate, nodding toward the Raven. “We’ll have to make as fast a getaway as possible. Can you drive a car?”

Kate nodded.

“How well do you know the side streets?” Rita asked.

“I’ve walked most of them, never driven them, though,” Kate said.

“That’s going to change today,” Rita said. “I’m going to need you to maneuver the car while I try to keep his men from getting close to us.”

“Do you have a destination?” Kate asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you should drive,” she said.

“You won’t get far,” the Raven said. “Not all my men are easy to kill.”

“Perhaps not,” Rita said, her gun still pointed at him. “But you most certainly are.”

Kate pulled the Raven away from the nun and threw him down on the chair. “I’ll tie him up,” she said. “That should keep him out of commission long enough.”

“A couple of bullets will keep him out of commission for good,” Rita said.

“He’ll get his due,” Kate said as she bound the Raven’s hands and feet to the back of the chair, “just not here and not now.”

“Your actions won’t win any points with me down the road,” the Raven said, his voice lower. “You’d be better off getting rid of me, as the good sister proposes.”

“I don’t expect anything from you,” Kate said. “But I’m not a killer like you.”

“Then there is still much for you to learn,” the Raven said.

Kate checked the knots on his hands and feet, then straightened, took one final look at him, and followed the nun out of the basement, slamming the door behind her.

CHAPTER
13

D
USK HAD SETTLED ACROSS THE LARGE CEMETERY ON THE OUTSKIRTS
of the city, less than a fifteen-minute drive from the center. The grounds were pristine, and a dozen rows of thick marble walls standing twelve feet high lined each side of the stone walkway. There were about a hundred headstone markers on each side of every wall, highlighting the names, birth dates, and dates of death of the bodies resting within the walls. As a rule, Italy does not allocate thousands of acres of precious land to its dead, preferring instead to inter them in family mausoleums or walls, which more often than not are marked by votive candles and flowers, changed weekly by the regular visitors who come by to pay their respects, either out of habit or desire.