Zane drove for one block, made a U-turn, and came back. As he drove down the ramp, he extinguished the scooter’s headlight. At the bottom, the service road turned right along the Tiber. A row of large trees hung over each side. The darkness was both good and bad. Good in that it allowed for a more stealthy approach, but bad in that he might run up on the van without knowing it.
Brake lights flashed ahead. The van had also been running without its headlights. Zane slowed the scooter and rolled to a stop behind a tree. Once he was out of view, he turned off the ignition and slid off. He crept forward and peered around the trunk. The van was parked in one of several parking spaces arrayed in front of a small building situated on the river. Such structures were a common sight on the Tiber. Some were used as storage facilities and boathouses. There were even a few restaurants and cafes built over on the water. As best Zane could tell, this one looked like a boathouse.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light as the driver opened the door and stepped out. In that brief second, Zane saw the man had a black satchel slung over one arm. He guessed it contained the stolen relic.
After a cursory look around, the man crossed the dock and entered the building through the front. Zane waited. It would be foolish to follow immediately. The man might have gone inside to pick something up and could come right back out.
So why had he come here? Was he simply hiding until things blew over? That was doubtful. The fact that he’d come to the river likely meant a boat was either on the way or was already waiting, which meant it was time to act. Zane removed the pistol the guard had given him and ejected the magazine. It contained a single stack of eight cartridges. Not as many rounds as he’d like, but it would have to do. Besides, if he played this correctly, he should only need one.
After snapping the mag back into place, he abandoned the tree and sprinted to the van. He eased up to the open driver’s side window. The keys dangled from the ignition, so he pulled them out and stuffed them in his pocket. There was little chance the man was coming back, but this would cut off his escape if he did. Hearing no sounds from within the building, Zane crossed the dock, stepping softly on the wood planks so as not to send out vibrations. When he arrived at the entrance, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. It seemed careless, but it also signaled that the man had no intention of coming back.
Zane leaned up to the gap and listened for a full moment. Hearing nothing, he nudged the door open and entered. The interior stank of mildew and aged wood. The intensity of the scents seemed to suggest the place had been abandoned. The perfect location for a rendezvous.
Zane’s eyes soon adjusted to the interior. Stacked boxes rose around him, along with a number of unidentified objects. The place was a maze of stored goods. Zane listened intently but still heard no sound. Soon, the outline of a door appeared in the back left corner of the building. He guessed it led to the dock. The thief was probably boarding a boat there now. Zane had to admit the whole thing was brilliant. Escape by boat while law enforcement searched Rome for a white van.
Zane maneuvered down an aisle flanked by two rows of boxes. After traversing about half the distance, he heard a thump and stopped. The sound seemed to have come from the front of the building. He crouched. The front door was still ajar. A dark shadow filled the space. Someone was there. Had the man circled around, or was it someone else?
Suddenly, the door slammed shut, and Zane heard movement in another part of the room.
As he dropped to one knee and raised his pistol, a stark realization set in.
He’d been trapped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
As he hunkered in the darkness, Zane rebuked himself for an earlier oversight. When the man had exited the van, he’d spent very little time examining his surroundings. In fact, he’d almost seemed nonchalant. At the time, Zane had attributed it to overconfidence in a well-executed plan, but now, he realized it might have all been premeditated. Draw in your target by making yourself look like easy prey.
A rustling sound came from the far corner of the room. As he tried to pinpoint the location, the staccato pop of semi-automatic gunfire erupted from the same place. Bullets shredded the boxes around him, knocking them over. He dove behind a stack of pallets to his right. They wouldn’t stop any of the rounds, but they would conceal his profile.
He was pinned down, but there was one positive. As he dove away, Zane had seen the muzzle flashes across the room. He knew there were two shooters, both set up near the rear exit. In an effort to fix their position even further, Zane rose up and squeezed off two shots. As expected, they returned fire, allowing Zane to mark their precise location.
Unfortunately, Zane was down to six rounds. From this point forward, he had to make every bullet count. No more probing fire. If he fired again, it needed to be a kill shot or a distraction to cover his escape.
Another round of gunfire splintered the pallets in front of him. They had fixed on his position as well, so Zane dropped to his belly and squirmed toward the rear wall. Shoot and move. Shoot and move. The words of his old SEAL instructor echoed in his mind.
After traveling about fifteen feet, he found a metal cabinet and slid behind it. The cabinet was lightly constructed, but would provide more protection than the pallets. As Zane took a few deep breaths, a familiar scent reached his nose. He turned and looked behind him.
When he realized what it was, a smile spread over his face.
He’d just found his ticket out.
Petr and his partner Ivan squeezed their triggers repeatedly, sending a spray of bullets toward the longhaired bastard hiding across the room. This time, they’d managed to pinpoint his location, and there was no chance he’d survive the barrage of bullets raining down on him. It was not a question of if a bullet would hit him but how many.
It felt good to unleash his anger. Fifteen minutes earlier, Dante had radioed he was being followed by a man on a motorbike. When Petr heard the description — a man with long brown hair — he realized it was the same man who’d knocked him out in Menaggio and escaped with the girl.
The temptation to stay and kill the man had been too strong. He had to die for humiliating them, so Petr had ordered a change of plans. Instead of escaping by boat, they would lure him into the building, where they would kill him. The others opposed the idea — after all, Viktor had made it clear the relic must be brought back above all else — but Petr pulled rank. He wasn’t going to lose this opportunity for revenge. Besides, he’d stowed the relic on the boat and had given the driver strict instructions to whisk it away if things inside went bad.
Thankfully, they weren’t going to.
Petr’s ammunition finally ran dry, so he dropped behind the counter. Now safely hidden, he snapped in another magazine. He doubted he’d need it — their target was either dead or bleeding to death — but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Do you think we got him?” Ivan whispered from a few feet away.
“Do you hear anything? Of course he’s dead.”
Despite the bravado, Petr knew their opponent was crafty. Not only had he eluded their grasp in Venice, but he’d also managed to get the girl back. In order to kill such a man, you had to respect him first. A faint sound carried from the far end of the room. Petr frowned. The only thing he’d expected to hear was a groan, not movement.
“Did you hear that?” Ivan asked.
“Wait,” Petr hissed.