Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gabriela eased out of restless sleep, knowing something was wrong.
Instinct, radar, supersenses, intuition, psychic adrenaline response.
Whatever you called it… Gabriela had it.
She lay perfectly still in the dark, unfamiliar room, listening for the soft rustle of cloth, a barely heard sigh, a footfall.
Someone was moving near the door. She could feel the presence.
She could feel her heart beating in her throat.
Breathe, she told herself. Focus. Wait for your moment to strike.
The light flashed on, and Gabriela was instantly on her feet. She was wearing black La Perla bikini undies and a gray Vuori tank top. Her mahogany hair was loose around her face, and she was looking fully awake in hand-to-hand combat striking stance.
“Apologies for the stealth entrance,” Ahmed said. “You weren’t answering your phone, and I thought you would want an early start.”
“The alerts were turned off on my phone so I could get some sleep. Fortunately for you, I wasn’t able to smuggle a gun into Italy,” Gabriela said, “because you’d be dead now.”
He smiled at that. He liked her. She was able to stay calm under pressure. Or at least give the impression of calmness. He also liked her sleepwear. Practical under the circumstances and curiously sexy.
“What time is it?” Gabriela asked.
“Not quite five,” he answered. “I flew in last night.”
“You have a plane,” she said.
He gave a slight nod. “When I need one.”
Gabriela had more questions, but she didn’t ask them because she thought she might not want to know the answers.
“See if you can find coffee for me while I get dressed,” she said. “American or double espresso. Whatever is available.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ahmed returned with two large American coffees, croissants, and some yogurt with fruit.
“Starbucks?” she asked him.
“That would have been nice,” he said, “but I would have had to drive to Milan for it.”
They ate breakfast while Gabriela showed Ahmed pictures she’d taken of Tartoni’s house. When she was done with her photos she pulled up overhead satellite views from the internet.
“He lives well,” Ahmed said.
Gabriela had shared everything she knew about Gloria Tartoni and the Kings.
She’d told Ahmed about the Kings’ beginnings in college, about their ransom successes, about the moldering paintings and the transfer to the castle.
She told him about finding the Avenger at Tartoni’s house after Rafer and Jacko had been kidnapped.
She told him about the arrival of Bench and Searl.
She told him everything except the troubling fact that the golden coffin was lost. No need to muddy the waters with that horrible detail, she told herself.
One thing at a time. Get Rafer and Jacko back and then address the golden coffin.
And maybe Ahmed would be happy with a couple of priceless paintings instead of the coffin.
She was hoping to find them in the repaired wine cellar with Rafer and Jacko.
“I have some skilled men with me,” Ahmed said.
“And I have whatever firepower we might need. We could lay siege to the house and everyone in it, but I’m not comfortable with that.
It would be messy. This is a man with wealth and prestige and a security force.
There are sure to be exterior cameras. We could disable them but not in the time available. ”
“They don’t know you,” Gabriela said. “You could talk your way in and look around. I can stay hidden with your crew, ready to rush the house if you need us.”
Ahmed wasn’t new to gaining information under false pretext. He was comfortable with the role. It was adding Gabriela Rose to his team that gave him pause. He wasn’t sure she could be trusted alone with them. He was afraid she might reduce them to fawning minions.
“I’m sure I can gain entrance,” he said, “but I’d like to get on-site and do some surveillance first. I have a room down the hall with a cache of weapons. You can choose your weapon, and we’ll head out.”
Gabriela followed Ahmed to his room and burst out laughing when she saw the artillery display.
“This is an arsenal,” she said. “You could take over a small country with less.”
Ahmed smiled. “My man Zuma in Milan works on the concept that more is always better. Sometimes his more is excessive.”
“I’m going to pass on the missile launcher,” Gabriela said.
“And I’m having a hard time walking away from the Heckler & Koch MP5, but I think I’ll save it for another day.
” She buckled herself into a gun belt and chose a Glock 19 for her sidearm.
She took a small olive drab canvas knapsack off the bed and filled it with a few flash-bang grenades, extra ammo for the Glock, and a handful of zip tie handcuffs.
She attached a collapsible baton to her gun belt.
“No knife?” Ahmed asked.
“I’m already carrying a knife,” Gabriela said.
Ahmed studied her for a moment, not able to discern the knife’s location. Wondering what else she had hidden on her. Taking some comfort in the fact that she at least didn’t sleep with the knife. There had been nothing hidden in her sleepwear this morning.
Gabriela was wearing skinny-leg jeans, sneakers, a gray T-shirt, and a black hoodie.
She tied the hoodie around her waist to hide the Glock, and she followed Ahmed out of the hotel.
There were two Range Rover SUVs waiting at the curb.
She counted four men in one of the cars. The other car was empty.
Ahmed got behind the wheel of the empty Range Rover and Gabriela got in beside him, thinking that the SUV was pristine, looking fresh off the showroom floor.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a rental,” Gabriela said.
“A rental would be unlikely. Zuma arranged transportation and he’s not fond of rentals. He has standards.”
“I could use Zuma’s phone number,” Gabriela said.
Ahmed glanced at her. “You have my phone number. It’s all you will ever need.”
Whoa, Gabriela thought. Probably he was just referring to vehicle procurement, but it sent a zinger through her all the same.
She was happy for the distraction because she was finding it difficult to ignore the panic that was burning in her chest. She had no clue as to the condition of Jacko and Rafer.
Jacko was a good friend, and she’d put him in harm’s way.
She couldn’t find words to describe her relationship with Rafer.
As much as she hated to admit it, they were a team.
They’d been a team since kindergarten. Even when she disliked him and he annoyed her, she knew he was there for her.
She couldn’t imagine him not being there.
It was horrible to consider the possibility.
Ahmed drove through the town and briefly got on a highway before reaching Valgenico and taking the mountain road that would lead to Tartoni’s property.
“Do you have any information on the interior of the house?” Ahmed asked Gabriela.
“Not much. My office manager wasn’t able to get anything. I only know that there’s a large wine cellar. Gloria said it was huge. She called it a wine cave. According to Gloria, the Kings used it to hold whatever they were ransoming. People, a racehorse, paintings.”
“They sound like a fun group.”
“Did I mention that they kill people when they become a liability?”
“I would expect no less,” Ahmed said.
“The driveway to Tartoni’s estate is gated,” Gabriela said. “Parking leading up to the driveway is difficult. Two Range Rovers parked on the side of the road might look suspicious.”
“I’ll turn this car over to Serge. He can coordinate parking with Zac. Jamal and Homus will go with us. I want Jamal to send a drone up before I attempt entry. Now that you’re on my team, the chances of the drone getting shot down are greatly reduced.”
Forty minutes later, Gabriela, Ahmed, Jamal, and Homus were at the edge of the woods, watching the drone’s monitor. There was no activity on the grounds. The helicopter was sitting on the pad behind the house. An SUV was parked in front of the garage.
A man walked out a back door and went to the helicopter. He was wearing a dark blue uniform.
“Copter pilot,” Jamal said, speaking English without an accent for Gabriela’s benefit.
Jamal pulled the drone back while the man walked around the helicopter, checking it out.
He got into the chopper and, minutes later, started the engine, and the blades began a slow rotation.
The helicopter noise drowned out the insect hum of the drone and Jamal moved it back into place.
The back door to the house opened again and four men walked out.
“Antonio Tartoni, Harry Bench, Rocky Mausud, Teddy Searl,” Gabriela said. “The so-called Kings. Bench is the one carrying a briefcase.”
They watched the men get into the helicopter, the bird lifted off and flew southeast.
“They aren’t going to the castle,” Gabriela said. “The castle is slightly to the north.”
Ahmed called Serge and Zac and told them to bring the cars to the gate. Jamal packed up the drone and they all walked back to the driveway, where the cars were waiting.
“I’m going in,” Ahmed said to Gabriela. “I’m wearing an earbud. I’ll call if I need backup.”
“I’m going with you,” Gabriela said. “I no longer need to worry about being recognized. The Kings aren’t on the premises.”
“You still run the risk of getting caught on video,” Ahmed said.
Gabriela removed her gun belt, stuffed her gun and the collapsible baton into the knapsack, borrowed Serge’s ball cap, and tucked her hair up into it. “Now I’m just one of the guys.”
Ahmed did a head-to-toe body scan. “It’s going to take more than a ball cap to accomplish that.” He turned to his crew. “Stop anyone who tries to leave the estate. Try not to kill or permanently maim them.”