The driver glanced out the window in the direction his boss was looking. “What? What are you talking about?”
Thanos pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Gikas.
“Something wrong?” the man’s voice asked through the earpiece. “I just got off the phone with you.”
“It’s Sean Wyatt, sir.”
“What about him?”
“Looks like he’s being apprehended by the local authorities.”
“What?” Gikas had to ask again to make sure he’d heard correctly.
“Sean Wyatt and his friend are being put in the back of two police cars here in Rome. They’re in handcuffs.” Thanos explained what he was seeing as plainly as possible.
Citizens and tourists had begun to gather around the odd sight, as people tend to do when there is something unfortunate happening to someone else. Several were taking pictures or video with their phones. Some just stood with mouths agape.
“Any idea why he’s being arrested?” Gikas asked with new energy in his voice.
“No. But from what I can tell, it looks like they are in major trouble.”
The cars in front of them began to pull away. Thanos’s driver hesitated for a second, waiting for orders. Thanos wanted to know what his employer thought as well. “Want us to stop and see what’s going on?” he asked into the phone.
Gikas thought for a moment. “No. I’ll see to it that Sean Wyatt is taken care of. We have what we need. Proceed to the location in Ostia and let me know when you have a progress update.”
“Will do.” Thanos slid the phone back into his pocket as the driver stepped on the gas, leaving Wyatt and his friend to the police.
Thanos looked back one last time in the rearview mirror and noticed the police car pulling out onto the street in the other direction. He didn’t smile often. It was part of being the bad guy who always got things done. On this occasion, however, Thanos allowed himself to smile. Just a little.
Chapter 27
The cell door slammed shut without Sean saying so much as a word in protest. The polizia had detained him and Tommy on illegal possession of firearms, something that could cause them no end of trouble in a European country. They were in someone else’s territory now, which meant that the president would likely not be of any help. As he’d insinuated before, if another government got wind that President Dawkins was behind Wyatt’s investigation, it could mean big trouble both at home, and abroad.
Fortunately, the Italian police had let Cagliari go free. He had no weapons on him, and because the man was old the authorities had decided not to charge him with trespassing. The last thing Sean had done before being detained was to tell Cagliari to find Emily Starks and tell her what happened.
He hoped the man could deliver, but there was really no telling at this point. Tommy was in the cell next to him, demanding to speak to an attorney. He’d issued verbal threats and angry insults the entire ride from the river to the police station. While Tommy did have a substantial financial fortune behind him, at the moment he was just another prisoner.
“I’m an American citizen!” he shouted at the two guards who had deposited him in the cell next to Wyatt’s. “I have rights. I want to call my attorney.”
The two guards disappeared around the corner, ignoring the requests. Tommy languished for a second at the barred wall before slumping down on a metal bench.
“Don’t think it works that way here, buddy,” Sean consoled.
“It’s a democracy, isn’t it? It should work the same.”
Sean didn’t answer immediately. He had other things on his mind. If Gikas somehow found out that they’d been arrested, the Greek might try to make some kind of a play to have them both killed. The Italian government had dealt with its fair share of corruption in the past. Made sense there were still plenty of people who would be more than happy to do a few bad deeds for profit.
“Just try to relax,” he said to Tommy. “Emily will get us out of here.”
“You think Cagliari can find her? She works for a government agency, Sean. She’s not supposed to be easy to find. It’s not like the old guy can just pull up Google and do a quick Internet search for Emily Starks’s phone number.”
Tommy wasn’t saying anything Sean didn’t already know. That didn’t make it any less true, though. Something else was bothering Sean. One of the guards had been eyeing them since they’d arrived. He doubted it was because the guy didn’t like Americans. The policeman appeared to be waiting for something. But what? Being on foreign soil many times in the past, Sean had seen a number of things happen that got swept under the rug. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to kill both him and Tommy, thinking that no one would notice. If Sean had to bet on it, that guard would be his first suspect for the job. He hoped he was just being paranoid again, but like he’d learned so many times before, better to be over prepared than not at all.
“Seriously,” Tommy was still ranting about being arrested, “how can they keep us here like this? Has the whole world gone insane?”
“Tommy,” Sean finally said, tired of hearing the complaining. “We were caught with weapons we aren’t allowed to have here. Whether you like it or not, we broke the law. Just try to relax, man.”
Tommy was speechless for the first time in the hour since they’d been marched into the police station. Sean figured his friend hadn’t had a lot of experience with being kept behind bars. Sean, on the other hand, had been in plenty of situations like this. He remembered the worst being just outside Moscow. In post-communist Russia, anything went. At least the Soviets had standards, albeit minimalist at best. He’d been found snooping around some of the old KGB archives and taken in for questioning. The escape had been easier than expected, something that would not have been true had the Soviets still been in charge. But the prison itself was one of the foulest, dirtiest places Sean had ever had the misfortune of being stuck in. It made the current situation seem like the Ritz.
He took a look outside the cell and through the square window at the top of the door that led into the main area of the station. He could still see the man who’d been watching them the whole time, and now the guy was talking to another officer. Sean put his head back down and stared at the floor when the suspicious-looking guy pointed in his direction. Sean wondered if the officer had noticed him looking at him, not that it mattered. Now Sean was fairly certain the man in the uniform was working for someone else. Gikas? No way of knowing at the moment, and it didn’t really matter who he was working for.
Sean had seen that look a dozen times; it was a face that killers wore. They probably didn’t realize they were wearing it. For Sean, however, it was a dead giveaway.
The door to the holding area suddenly opened, and a portly man in a tie and police hat wobbled in. He had a thick mustache and a fleshy face that seemed to fit with his rotund body. When he spoke, his baritone Italian voice boomed throughout the cinder block room.
“So, gentlemen. It seems we have a bit of a situation here.” He carried a clipboard in his hand and glanced down at it for a second before resuming. “Sean Wyatt?”
“Si,” Sean answered with the Italian form of the word yes.
“Your friend with the United States government called. You and your friend are going to be released immediately.”
“Thank you, signore,” Sean said respectfully as he stood.
“Of course, your weapons will remain here. Foreigners are not permitted to carry guns, Mr. Wyatt. Please remember to abide by the laws. If you are arrested again, I may not be able to help you. At that point, it will go over my head.”