Chapter 11 #2
“All those evildoers out there that we’re sworn to stop,” Shelly said.
“Good point,” Sal said. “But … most of the time, the evildoers aren’t going after us. But then again, they’re not going to get us. As you Americans would say, ‘so there!’”
They were all smiling, but they also took up stances by the shattered windows, using the curtains as visual shields as they looked out. But no one was there; no cars were heading down the street.
There were still plenty of law enforcement folks working in the area.
“Different car,” Grant noted as Sal clicked open a large navy SUV.
“Intelligent orders from above,” Sal told them. “They don’t want anyone out there looking for the same car.”
“Hmm,” Shelly said thoughtfully. “I wonder if it’s gone that far—if the person today was the same one who fired the shots from the car. Because I believe they know that if they fail, they pay the price.”
“That may well be true; they scared a man into confessing to a crime he didn’t commit—and then killing himself to make sure his family would be safe,” Sal said.
“We have security at the hospital as well. And thankfully, we’re almost there.
You know, I’m damned glad you Yanks got your people to pressure our people.
Now they know the truth, and maybe they’ll trust us out in the field more after this, too,” he added. “Now—”
“Now all we have to do is solve the damned thing,” Grant said. “But maybe this guy will give us more of what we need.”
When they reached the hospital, Sal went to Alfredo, and they spoke with the doctor. Grant and Shelly stood side by side, waiting.
“A hospital is a hospital,” Shelly murmured.
He nodded. Everything around them was clean and white; doctors and nurses hurried about. They did their best to stay out of the way.
Grant nodded toward the men and women in their polizia uniforms who were stationed along the hallway.
“We don’t see this much security all the time, though, that’s for sure,” he said.
“Someone high up doesn’t want this man murdered as he lies in his hospital bed,” Shelly murmured.
Alfredo nodded to the doctor and headed back to where they were standing. “Our first idea was to split up, one of us with one of you. But it seems that the man speaks English fluently—he is an Englishman. Not American, English,” he told them.
“Do they have a name, anything on him yet?” Shelly asked. She was frowning. Grant understood. They were in Italy. The murders they knew about had taken place here and in the United States. Now a citizen of another country was involved as well.
“No identification on him; we know he’s English because of his speech. He might have lived in the US before he was here. We have nothing except that he was trying to kill you, and he was anxious to find out if he had succeeded. I think you’ll be a nice surprise for him.”
“Maybe—” Shelly began.
“You two go in. We can follow. Grant, you’ve had your finger on this thing all along; you may get the most out of him,” Alfredo said.
“All right. We’re to have five minutes or a bit more?” Grant asked.
“A bit more; we’ll be out in the hall, leaving it to you. If you need us for any reason, lift a hand, and we’ll be right in.”
Grant sincerely thought that there was little chance the man could be of any danger to them, but he nodded. “Great. Thanks. Let’s hope you’re right.”
“I’ll be honest, from what we’ve just learned, I’m amazed he managed to hold a gun, much less fire a zillion automatic rounds into the house.
According to the doctor, he was full of hallucinogens, along with a bullet,” Alfredo told them.
“Doc said that he’s nuttier than a fruitcake, or words to the same effect. ”
“We’ll get in there and see what he’s talking about,” Shelly said. “Or try to decipher whatever he’s trying to say.” She looked at Grant, and he indicated with a head slant that they would head on in.
As they walked down the hall, Grant realized there was a presence at his side. A presence.
Vincenzo Mero. The spirit of the man had promised to be with them.
As they neared the door to the attacker’s hospital room, Vincenzo said quietly, “I’ve been studying this man.
Hitched a ride here from one of the cops.
I didn’t see what the fellow was doing on the street until it was too late to warn you, but then I decided my best bet was to get here and see what was up with the man.
You were safe then. And may I say, I’m grateful to see you in mortal form; that was quite a barrage.
Oh, and this poor man is so out of his mind he won’t notice if we’re talking while you’re talking to him. ”
“Excellent!” Shelly murmured, and Grant softly echoed her one word.
They entered the room. The man who had tried to kill them was slightly propped up on two pillows. He was only in his late twenties or so, with sandy hair, green, bloodshot eyes, and a slender face and physique beneath the bandages and hospital shift that covered his chest.
His eyes narrowed as they entered. “No … no … I killed you, I had to have killed you, they told me that the gun I used … told me it would kill elephants.”
Beyond a doubt, his accent was British rather than American
“Well, we’re here. That’s because we’re far more powerful that your silly curse tablet gods,” Shelly said, drawing up a chair next to him. “Far more powerful!” she assured him, shaking her head as if anyone might have imagined that they were anything less.
“I’ve seen him before!” Vincenzo murmured. “I saw him on the street.”
“And of course,” Grant said, taking his cue from the ghost, “you’re the one who snuck up on Vincenzo Mero and knifed him to death. He’s here with us, by the way.”
“No, Antonio swore he would take the blame! Because he knew; he knew that his family would die. Antonio understood. He knew the power of the tablet, that if he did as he was ordered, the curse would be lifted in the afterlife and his family would live! No, no—”
“Oh, you poor, silly fellow!” Shelly said.
“I told you; Vincenzo is right here! And he knew Antonio didn’t kill him because he’d known the man years before; they went to school together, and you talked to him, so you must know!
Antonio was a big man, so tall! You never could have bested him in any kind of a fight.
But you did know the depth of his love for his family, and that you could make him think that there were others, maybe a tribe of others, and if he didn’t do as he was asked … well, others would pay the price.”
“There is a tribe!” the man said.
“What’s your name?” Grant asked him. “We may be all-powerful, but we’re also courteous and would like to call you by your given name.”
“Sam,” he said, before suddenly starting to laugh hysterically.
“Sam I am! And you—you can’t be … or if you are!
You’d need to stop them. The tribe. Loyalty is everything.
Loyalty to the power of the stones! They’ll kill me here!
” he said. “And I can’t know. I can’t know that you are the mortal beings of higher gods. And … you’re here. I’m a dead man.”
“First, we have mortal beings of our power protecting you. Who would kill you, Sam? Who would kill you?”
“The mortal instruments of the gods and goddesses—how can you be more powerful when you don’t even know what I’m talking about?” Sam asked, frustrated and obviously truly afraid.
“What mortal instruments?” Grant asked.
“She will whisper to one of them, make them do the deed.”
“She?” Shelly murmured. “Sam, where were you born?”
He frowned. Thrown by the question. “I—I was born in the flesh in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. But—”
“Interesting. You sound British,” Grant said.
“School. London. My father worked for a tech company and spent more time in London, but I have been there. I have been there, traveled, and when the voices spoke to me, I obeyed. Then I failed!”
“The voice. Where does it come from?” Shelly asked him. “Is it from here, from London, from somewhere in the US?”
He appeared to be extremely agitated. “For great powers, you understand nothing! The power, all power, originates in the ancient city. Great beings from long ago; all the world sees is what it chooses, what fits what people want to see, want to believe. They don’t understand real history; they don’t know the ancient city! ”
Shelly was glancing over at him.
Ancient city? Rome? Athens?
“Sam, you got a last name?” Grant asked him.
Sam started to laugh again. “Smith. Sam Smith. That’s my name.”
Sam Smith? Yet another Smith? Yet again, a common enough name!
“He’s the man who killed me,” the ghost of Vincenzo Mero said quietly.
“Now that I see his eyes … his face. When he burst upon me, he was masked. He took me by surprise. I should have been able to fight him, but my life’s blood streamed away too quickly.
He has been their supposed mortal instrument here.
And he may not know who the others are, but he believes there is a goddess in ‘the ancient city’ who hands out all the commands. ”
“The gods and goddesses of the curse tablets were the ones who ordered you to kill Vincenzo Mero?” Shelly asked softly.
“He didn’t understand. He would have brought strange ideas into a world that is already corrupt and torn, with no respect for the ancient past,” Sam told them.
“I killed him in this world; he will learn the error of his ways in the next. You don’t understand; the curse tablet gods allow for salvation.
Wait, you can’t be more powerful if you don’t understand any of this.
You’re lying to me; you’re lying to me … and I’m a dead man!”
“I can’t even hate him for taking my life, for taking Antonio’s life … he’s so pathetically insane!” Vincenzo said softly.
“Sam,” Shelly said quietly, “here, at this place, in this life, we are very powerful, and we have powerful friends—”
“But I almost killed you!” he wailed.