Chapter 51
THE chirping of rubber on concrete gave Rapp some idea of what he would find when he rounded the corner.
He was still surprised.
He’d expected to see another fender bender or perhaps the aftermath of one of Italy’s legendary aggressive drivers forced to skid to a stop in response to the woman’s unexpected appearance.
This was not what awaited him.
The T-intersection where Via Torino crossed Via Venti Settembre held more than just the piazza and the imposing Catholic church.
A makeshift parking lot sat nestled in an alcove formed by the right-angle junction between two multistory buildings.
In typical Italian fashion, the parked cars sat mere feet from the vehicles circumventing the piazza via the traffic circle that bounded a cobblestone pedestrian area.
How any Italian motorized conveyance survived Rome’s traffic without constantly accruing dents and scratches was beyond his comprehension, but the source of the squealing tires hadn’t been from the traffic circle.
Instead, the noise had been generated by a car attempting to exit the parking area.
A car driven by the woman Rapp had been following.
She’d apparently been about to back out of her parking spot when a Ford Fiesta had misjudged the traffic circle and skidded into her bumper. The woman was standing by the open driver’s door of her car, a red Fiat Coupe, presumably about to begin the process of exchanging insurance information.
But the driver who’d rear-ended her seemed to have a different idea.
Three men exited the sedan in a rush.
Three men with guns.
Violent altercations were often hard to untangle in real time.
In some cases, perpetrator and victim could be difficult to distinguish, especially if both parties were engaged in fisticuffs.
This was why police officers often put everyone at a crime scene in handcuffs in order to give the fog of war time to dissipate.
Not in this instance.
Three armed men rushing toward an unarmed woman.
No further analysis necessary. The woman’s eyes widened and she reached for something inside her car.
The nearest man grabbed her by the hair, jerked her from the sports car, and pressed his pistol to her forehead.
His partner stuck his pistol in his waistband, wrapped his arms around her legs, and lifted her into the air.
The third man held his pistol in the high ready position as his eyes searched for would-be Good Samaritans.
They found Rapp.
The gunman was in the middle of extending his pistol when his head snapped backward and a cloud of red mist exploded from the back of his skull. His partner dropped the woman’s legs and was reaching for his waistband when his chest jerked as a cluster of five red circles blossomed over his heart.
He pitched over, joining his comrade on the concrete.
Rapp pivoted, smoothly panning his Beretta’s front sight post left until it was centered on the remaining gunman’s forehead.
His first two engagements had taken his targets by surprise, but that advantage was now gone, and the little pistol wasn’t designed for precision shooting.
To add insult to injury, the Bobcat’s magazine only held eight rounds, and he’d already expended six.
The remaining gunman shoved his pistol into the woman’s torso and crouched behind her back, negating Rapp’s shot.
She shrieked and squirmed away from the pressure against her ribs. Then she turned and slid a blade across her assailant’s neck in a blur of motion. Rapp had been watching the entire time and still wasn’t sure where the knife had come from.
The gunman appeared to be equally surprised.
He pressed a hand against the crimson geyser fountaining from his throat as his wide eyes conveyed disbelief. The woman shoved him to the side and then stepped out of the way. Judging by the amount of blood spurting past the gunman’s fingers, she’d probably sliced through his left carotid artery.
He’d be dead in minutes.
Rapp couldn’t wait that long.
Centering the front sight post on the man’s chest, Rapp pressed the trigger.
The gunman tumbled to the ground.
The woman eyed the body for a heartbeat before turning to Rapp. “Who are you?”
“A friend.”
She’d asked the question in English and he’d replied in kind. Rapp wasn’t sure why he’d done that, but it felt right. The woman’s liquid brown eyes held his for an instant longer, then she nodded as if he’d just answered an unasked question.
“Get in.”
The woman scooped her missing heel from the pavement, slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed the car’s door. Rapp hesitated for an instant. Then he sprinted around the rear bumper and pulled the handle to the passenger door.
Locked.
The locks deactivated with a click.
Rapp slid inside and closed the door behind him.
“Fasten your seat belt.”
He did.