Sean took a deep breath and removed the keys from the ignition. “Look, we need guns. Marek has them. Don’t make this weird. Okay?”
Tommy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the last comment. “Weird? Do you know what’s weird, Sean? That we are buying guns illegally, in a foreign country, from an underground dealer!”
Sean opened the door and exited the vehicle. “Try to keep your voice down. This is a suburban neighborhood. I don’t think Marek wants the residents’ association knowing his vocation.”
“Oh, you think?”
Once they’d dropped off their driver at the hotel, the drive to the Balduina section of Rome had only taken twenty minutes. It was one of the quieter neighborhoods in the city, home to many expats and those looking to be close to the culture of Rome but not always in the middle of it. Sean had been somewhat surprised to find that Marek had relocated to Balduina. When the two initially met, Marek was an avid clubgoer and in constant party mode. The suburban residence community was a far cry from the club scene in Prague.
Apparently, the Czech had become somewhat reclusive.
Sean scanned the area for a moment, taking in the modern homes and apartments that contrasted the more historic parts of the city. Some of the houses even had large terraces, and he imagined the views must have been impressive since Balduina sits atop one of Rome’s many hills. The Vatican wasn’t far from their current location. Sean figured getting there on foot wouldn’t take long, and many of the rooftop patios almost certainly had a clear line of sight to the famed dome of St. Peter’s Basilica.
There was a significant decrease in foot traffic in the area, too, probably a result of it being almost purely residential. Unlike in the center of the city, the sidewalks lacked the shops, cafes, and bars that drew so many cars and pedestrians. The more Sean thought about it, the more he realized that Balduina would probably be where he would settle down if he lived in Rome.
It actually made perfect sense that Marek lived there now. Who would suspect an arms dealer living in a quiet little neighborhood like this? It was unlikely that any of the retired Americans or local families even gave the Czech a second glance. To them, he was probably just another foreigner who had fallen in love with Rome but wanted to have a little quiet distance between himself and all the activity of the busy town center.
Tommy must have been thinking something along the same lines. “What kind of arms dealer lives in an area like this?”
“Exactly,” Sean said, effectively ending the discussion and leaving Tommy befuddled.
He led the way, walking across the street into a small commons area filled with green shrubs, decorative trees, and a palm tree standing in the center. The brick sidewalks wound their way through the space, leading to the six or seven homes wrapped around it. Sean and Tommy passed the first two, both cream-colored, Mediterranean-style houses, and stopped at the third, a modern three-story building painted a burnt yellow. Sean could see a railing on the top floor, indicating that the home had a deck. He was usually afraid of heights, but a few stories never bothered him much.
“And you’re sure this guy is expecting us?” Tommy interrupted his thoughts, staring at the door with a nervousness about him.
“Yes, he’s expecting us. Are you sure you’re okay?” Sean stared at his friend as if he had eyeballs growing out of his arms. “You can wait in the car if you want.”
Tommy forced himself to settle down and took a long, deep breath. “I’m fine. Just not used to associating with criminals.”
The door opened just as he was finishing the sentence. Inside, the pale man with cropped brown hair raised an eyebrow. “Criminal?” he said in a mild, Eastern European accent.
“Marek,” Sean interjected, “it’s good to see you again, my old friend. How have you been?”
For a second, Marek stared at Tommy as if he were about to answer the question, but once Sean stepped in the way he forgot all about the comment.
“Where have you been, Sean? I don’t hear from you for years except the occasional text message you send me on my birthday.” The Czech reached out with both arms and wrapped them around Sean in a big hug.
Marek had clearly been in better shape during the earlier part of his life. His arms wore signs of once being strong and lean. Now they had softened over time, along with his midsection. Still, Tommy figured the man was no one to mess with in a fight. Marek’s stubbly beard was still dark, which belied his age as still being somewhere under forty.
Sean let go of his old acquaintance and introduced his companion. “Marek, this is Tommy Schultz. You two play nice,” he joked. “Tommy is one of my oldest friends. And I trust him with my life.”
Marek’s suspicions eased visibly. “Very well. Any friend of Sean’s is welcome in my home.”
“Thank you,” Tommy offered. “It’s just that…well, I’ve never met an arms dealer before. Especially not at his home.”
A thunderous laugh erupted from Marek’s mouth. He leaned back and slapped his knee as the laughter kept coming for a good twenty seconds. Sean chuckled a few times, uncertain if he should be laughing or not.
“Tommy, I assure you, my home is completely safe. I mostly deal with police, former military, teachers, those kinds of people. I don’t sell guns to drug dealers or terrorists…not that I know of.” He gave a quick wink to Sean and started laughing all over again. Tommy joined in the laughter this time, though hesitantly. “Please, come in. Let’s have a drink to old times.”
Sean held up a dismissive hand. “Maybe some other time, my friend. We are kind of in a hurry, and time is running out. We need to get a couple of guns from you and be on our way.”
Marek didn’t attempt to mask his disappointment. “That is unfortunate. I was hoping we could talk for a while. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Not at the moment,” Sean said, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby. “A friend of mine is, though. She needs our help.”
“A woman? Sounds like you have a soft spot for her, old friend.”
“I do. Can you help us?”
Marek’s face beamed with pride. “Of course I can help you. Please, come in.”
Inside, the home was much neater than Tommy would have expected. Everything was in perfect order and immaculately clean. A wide, flatscreen television hung over a gas fireplace on the far side of the living room. Dark ceramic tiles covered the floor, balanced by deep, hunter-green walls. There were a few pieces of furniture: a sofa with tan fabric, a few leather seats, and a pale wooden coffee table. A picture on a glass end table featured a picture of Marek and his wife, a woman with remarkable almond skin, curly dark hair, and brown eyes the color of coffee.
Sean pointed to the picture frame with his thumb. “She the reason you left Prague?” he asked cordially.
Marek had stepped into the kitchen for a moment. The sound of hands rustling through papers and miscellaneous drawer objects echoed through the huge home. “My wife?” he asked from out of sight. “She was certainly a big part of why I came here.”
“What was the other part?” Sean asked, meandering over to the television. He peeked out of the nearest window through one of the blinds. There was no activity outside, for which he allowed himself a moment of gratitude.
The noises in the kitchen ceased, and a second later Marek reappeared in the archway between the two rooms. “Let’s just say things were getting a little too crazy back home.”
Tommy entered the conversation by asking, “Crazy?”
Marek shrugged. “People I didn’t trust started asking for favors. Random customers were showing up at my door at all hours of the day.” He held up a finger to emphasize his point. “I don’t sell to people I don’t trust. And I don’t trust random customers.”