Tommy laughed and shook his head. “You know, in the short time you’ve been gone from the agency, I’d forgotten how much of this stuff you just make up as you go along.”
Sean raised an eyebrow. “It gets the job done, doesn’t it?
Tommy took in a long breath. “Usually. Let’s just hope the time never comes when it doesn’t.”
Chapter 20
Thanos rubbed his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks. It had been five minutes since Sean Wyatt had detonated some kind of improvised flashbang device, and his eyes still burned from the searing white light. He and his men pushed their way through the crowd, hurrying desperately to figure out which way Wyatt and his friend had gone. It was too late, though. Their quarry had disappeared into the waves of tourists and commuters like a thief in the night. In between rapid blinks, his eyes darted left and right, scouring the crowded lobby for any sign of the Americans.
“No sign of them,” one of the henchmen said, returning from a fruitless search to the eastern side of the station. Thanos already knew they’d be long gone.
The problem now was figuring out where they’d headed. Thanos had checked the paper bag as soon as his eyes had re-acclimated to their surroundings following the bright flash from Wyatt’s little trick, but it had been empty. He’d thrown it aside and hastily stormed out of the locker area.
“Should we go back and check out the locker, sir?” the other grunt asked.
Thanos nodded, saying nothing.
The three made their way back to the locker area, rudely shoving people out of their path as they moved through the outer edge of the lobby and into the corridor. Walking eased dramatically upon getting back to the locker area, and they hurriedly made their way to where Wyatt had detonated the small explosive. When they reached the spot, the three were greeted by an unexpected surprise. Two security guards were inspecting the black burn marks left on the floor by the tiny flashbang. One was down on a knee, running his finger along the streaks. They were speaking in Italian, saying something about how the flash had shorted out the camera in the corner. One of them held the paper bag in his hand. He was looking at the bottom of it with a curious expression. Thanos held up his hand for the men behind him to wait a moment. They were hidden from view by a perpendicular wall of lockers. This meant he and his men still had the element of surprise with the two guards.
Thanos took a step back and listened carefully, knowing the guards had not seen or heard him since their backs were facing him.
“What does this mean?” the man with the bag asked in rushed Italian. “Vincenzo Cagliari?”
Vincenzo Cagliari? Had he heard correctly? Thanos leaned farther around the corner, listening closer.
“Throw that trash away,” the other guard said in a reprimanding tone. “We have work to do.”
“Why would someone write that on the bottom of a paper bag?”
Thanos was grateful he spoke fluent Italian. It had been an easy enough language to acquire after years of speaking Spanish and French. There were enough similarities among the foundations of each language that he’d learned it in a matter of less than two months. He continued to listen patiently to the conversation going on between the two guards to see if he could glean any more information.
The security man on one knee stood up and grabbed the bag from the other, tossing it at a trashcan right next to the corner where Thanos was standing. As soon as the bag hit the rim of the can and fell in, the guard saw Thanos leaning around the corner and immediately produced his sidearm. He pointed the barrel at Thanos’s head with a nervous finger on the trigger.
“You there,” he shouted in Italian. “Stay where you are!”
Thanos didn’t move, but he could sense the men behind him slinking away. He slowly put his right hand up in the air and his left around his back, quickly motioning for his men to go around behind the security personnel.
“I’m sorry,” he said in an accent that very nearly sounded American. “I don’t speak Italian. I’m here on vacation, and I lost my wife.”
The two men exchanged a suspicious glance before the one on the right spoke up. “He’s the one from the camera footage we saw earlier. Call for backup.” The one in charge then turned his commands to Thanos, speaking in rough English. “Keep your hands up and do not move.”
“Very well,” Thanos said, again in English. He stood perfectly still as the man began taking cautious steps toward him.
The subordinate security guard started to move his left hand toward the radio attached to his shoulder to call for reinforcements when Thanos saw his men slip up behind the two uniformed rent-a-cops with knives drawn. Their movement was stealthy and swift as they simultaneously stepped toward their targets. The subordinate officer was nabbed first, Thanos’s man drawing the shiny blade across the throat of the unsuspecting guard. He gurgled slightly for a second and dropped to the ground just as the other guard was snatched by the second henchman, who jammed the tip of his blade through the back of the man’s neck and out the front of his throat. He collapsed a moment later, next to his partner.
The victims’ bodies shook violently on the floor, resisting death for a few short moments before stiffening.
Thanos took a step away from the scene, making sure he stayed clear of the camera’s view.
“Do you need the bag, sir?” one of his men asked, about to bend down and pick it up.
“No. We have everything we need.”
The three men made their way back out of the locker area and into the throng of people once more. Thanos gave a quick check around to make sure they hadn’t drawn the attention of any additional security personnel. A few police were making their way toward the locker room from the far side of the train station. As soon as the authorities discovered the two bodies, the entire place would be locked down. Getting to the car was imperative.
Thanos moved fast, weaving his way through the flood of people, knocking over an elderly woman as he did. His two men followed close behind, sensing their boss’s urgency. The doors were only forty feet away, but it seemed like two miles. The crowd had thinned out a little, making their escape quicker, but Thanos couldn’t help but feel like the police were watching their every movement. He took a quick look up at one corner of the room where three cameras were mounted together, watching the entire lobby of the station. He knew they’d been seen at some point. And even though no one realized what was going on at the moment, they would be easily traced later on.
His men were known mercenaries, hit men hired by the highest bidder. No doubt Interpol would have little trouble figuring out who they were. His identity, however, was kept immaculately anonymous. He’d spent untold amounts of time and money keeping it that way. The less anyone knew about him the better. The only soul on the planet who knew Thanos’s true identity was his employer, Dimitris Gikas, the only man he ever trusted. Still, all anyone needed was a picture to post anywhere, and his anonymity would quickly evaporate. With social media swarming everyone’s lives, his name would be irrelevant. People would recognize the face. A face was all one needed to get arrested.
Twenty feet from the exit, Thanos believed they had made it. He could smell the outside air coming through the doors, sensing their escape had been made. His relief, however, was short lived. Two uniformed police officers appeared in the doorway directly in front of Thanos and his men. The police stepped through the portal and strode purposely in Thanos’s direction. The officers’ eyes locked on the three men as they moved cautiously toward the killers. One of the policemen touched his shoulder radio and said something quietly into the microphone.