I lifted the Luger. “Something else you wanted, punk?”
“Yeah. I was wondering how interested the police would be in how I got my legs broke.”
“Any time you grow weary of life, ask them.”
Tanya shut the door. For a few seconds she gripped the knob and rested her head against the door. Then she turned around to face me. She gave out a long sigh. “What do you think?”
I shrugged. “I think he bought it. If anyone were to ask him, I think he would say he saw Sandee and Acasano.”
She turned away from the door and went in the kitchen. I heard her pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. I dropped Wilhelmina in my robe pocket and went to stand in the doorway.
She was leaning against the sink with her back to me. “I think something is happening, Nick.”
“What?”
“I feel rotten about what we did to Mike.” She turned to face me. “Acasano was the lowest type of creature I ever heard of. And, Nick, I’m starting to think you’re him.”
I smiled at her. “I must be pretty good at my job, then.”
She ran across the kitchen and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I don’t ever want to hate you, Nick. Not ever.”
The telegram came that afternoon.
Seven
My ears started popping as the feeder flight from Rome dropped toward the airport in Palermo, Sicily. Below stretched a patchwork of vineyards looking like a quilted blanket stretching toward the buildings of Palermo.
Tanya, sitting next to me, squeezed my hand. We both knew this was it. We had convinced Mike, in early morning light, when he was drunk, but this was the supreme test. There would definitely not be any more Nick and Tanya. One slip here and we would be agents nine and ten added to the list.
The instructions in the telegram had been direct and to the point. I was to book myself on the first available flight from Kennedy International direct to Rome. From there I would catch a feeder flight to Palermo. A hotel limousine would be waiting to take me straight to the Corini Hotel, where I would check in, then wait to be contacted.
No one in Palermo had seen Acasano in ten years. That fact was working for me. Sandee’s being with me was no problem either. She was my woman. From my research I had learned that these men often took their women with them on business trips.
The DC-10 eased down over the strip, leveled off, then there was a jerk as the wheels touched and screeched. Tanya and I unfastened our safety belts.
She was wearing a light business suit, which would have been too flashy for Tanya but which seemed right for Sandee. The blouse under the short jacket had the top three buttons unfastened revealing a nice amount of cleavage. Her skirt was one size too small, and short enough to please every male pair of eyes on the plane. She had a look of youthful petulance on her face. Ripe, full lips overpainted and frosty; far too much blue eye make-up; gum-popping jaws working to excess; the illusion was that of cheapness, and ignorance of style.
An overdeveloped Lolita, a very young BB, Tanya had the talent to look both.
She leaned against my shoulder, squeezing my hand.
The plane taxied to the terminal, and we waited while the steps were hand-pushed to the door. Looking out the window, I noticed several taxis waiting, as well as four Fiat microbuses with the names of hotels painted on the sides.
My eyes swept from the vehicles to the faces of the waiting crowd. Each face was studied carefully. No reason for it, I suppose. But in my years working as an agent for AXE I had made many enemies. It had become my habit to check individual faces in any crowd. You never knew where an assassin’s bullet might come from. But this crowd was only anxious to greet those stepping from the plane.
With my hand on Tanya’s elbow, I moved slowly down the aisle. The pretty, smiling stewardess hoped we enjoyed our flight, and that we’d have a good time in Palermo. Tanya and I stepped out into bright sunlight and warmth. At the bottom of the steps taxi and bus drivers hawked for our patronage.
Plane passengers moved across the open space from the plane to the wire fence, ignoring the cries of the drivers. There were embraces and kisses as relatives and loved ones were greeted.
One of the microbuses had had “Corini Hotel” painted on its side. Still holding Tanya’s elbow, I shouldered through the dark-faced hustlers to the bus. Several of the men followed, each one telling me they had the best taxi in all of Sicily. But when we reached the bus, all the men walked back except one.
He stepped up to us, never letting his dark eyes leave the exact spot where Tanya’s nipples would be. “You wish transportation to the Corini Hotel, signor?”
“Si,” I said curtly. “If you think you can tear your eyes away from my woman long enough to put them on the road.”
He nodded with embarrassment and looked away. “You have baggage checks, signor?”
I handed them to him and watched him trot off toward the terminal. We had already cleared customs when we landed in Rome.
“I think he’s cute,” Tanya said, watching him.
“I’m sure you do. And I’m sure he thinks you’re more than just cute.”
He returned ten minutes later with our luggage, and we all climbed in the Fiat bus. Our driver was as wild and horn-honking as the rest. Tanya and I didn’t have much opportunity to see any sights; it took all we had just to hang on. Only in one other place besides Rome have I seen wilder maniacs on the road: Mexico City.
At last we screeched to a sudden halt in front of an ancient, gingerbread-lined, decaying structure which called itself, according to the lighted sign over the entrance, the Corini Hotel. Our boy brought our bags inside and dropped them not too gently in front of the desk.
“You have reservations in adjoining rooms for Thomas Acasano and Sandee Catron?” I asked the desk clerk.
He checked the book through bifocals. “Ah, si.” Then he pounded his hand on a bell, setting up one hell of a racket. In Italian he told the bellboy to run our bags up to rooms four nineteen and twenty.
As I turned away from the desk I felt someone tapping my shoulder. I turned to see an Oriental taking three steps back and holding a camera. His head ducked behind the camera and immediately I was blinded by a bright, popping flashbulb. Too late I brought my hand up to my face.
As the man turned to leave, I stepped up to him and grabbed his arm. “I’d like to buy that picture, friend.”
“No speak American. No understand!” He tried to pull away.
“Let me see your camera.” I grabbed for it.
He stumbled away from me. “No!” he shrieked. “No speak American. No understand.”
I wanted to know how the hell he knew I was American. And why he wanted my picture. There were several people in the lobby of the hotel. Each and every one of them were watching the scene with interest. I didn’t need all this attention. Tanya stood by the desk, but instead of watching me, she was watching the faces in the crowd.
“You let me go!” the man shouted. For someone who didn’t understand American he was muddling through in fine fashion.
“I want to see your camera, that’s all.” There was a smile on my face but I was straining to keep it there. The crowd began moving toward us. It hadn’t become hostile yet. There were maybe twelve men in it.
The man jerked his arm free. “I go. You leave alone.”
I started toward him, but he turned and ran across the lobby and out the front door. The crowd stood looking at me with a mild kind of curiosity. I turned my back on them, took Tanya’s arm, and headed for the open-cage elevator.
“What did you make of it, N-Tom?” Tanya asked as we rode up toward the floor where our rooms were.
“I wish I knew. Somebody wants my picture. And now it looks like they have it.” I shrugged. “Maybe Nicoli wants to make sure the man checking in the hotel is really Thomas Acasano.”