Nothing, he knew, lasted forever.
Natalie had been unfazed by Steven’s account of how he’d knocked the man who’d been following them unconscious. She had studied the air pistol and stun gun with only mild curiosity. As someone who had been on the receiving end of attempted assaults before, Steven found the response unusual. She should have been shaken by such a close brush with violence, and yet she’d continued to exude that unabashed tranquility — a quiet confidence that betrayed no anxiety. She was either extremely tough, or a sociopath, he reasoned. Even he, who had been in the military for several years and had been in numerous deadly situations, was shaken by the implications of surveillance and a near miss on a kidnapping attempt. Natalie looked like she’d just woken up from a night’s restful sleep, refreshed and ready to go to the gym. He’d never seen anything like it.
Frederick kept scanning the mirrors, and several times made abrupt turns into small streets then doubled-back, checking for any followers. He was clearly very good at what he did, causing Steven to wonder again exactly what his full job description was.
“We’ll get out a few miles from the villa and get a taxi. We don’t want the car anywhere near the villa anymore. Frederick will get new wheels for us by tomorrow morning. Won’t you, Frederick?” Natalie smiled at the driver, and their eyes locked in the rearview mirror. He nodded.
“So, you think those were Morbius Frank’s men?” Steven pressed.
“Yes, or the Order. In the end it’s probably the same. Whoever it was, we have to expect the worst. If you don’t have any pressing reason to stick around Florence, we should make tracks out of the area tomorrow. I’d say tonight, but that isn’t practical until we have a different a car. Now that they know I’m here, with you, it isn’t safe in Florence for either of us.” She paused.
Steven didn’t say anything. Natalie took a closer look at the stun gun.
“This is Iranian. Not one you usually see. First one I’ve ever come across up close,” Natalie observed.
“You know the different types of stun guns that well?”
“Let’s just say that at one point in my life it was of interest to me.” If Natalie was trying to create additional mystery surrounding her, it was working. “It’s different than civilian models. These are for the military and secret police.”
“Forgive my ignorance, but what’s the difference?”
“Civilian devices are designed to incapacitate. They give a zap and then stop unless the button’s pressed again. These are built to not only incapacitate, but to continue delivering a series of charges to keep the target down for a long time.” She waved it around casually. “Or to torture.”
“Torture.”
“In some countries, the police torture in order to get suspected perpetrators to cooperate — they find it far more useful than civilized techniques. Devices like these are built for that application.”
“Seems like you know an awful lot about them. What did you say you did for a living, Natalie?” Steven asked, only half joking.
“I didn’t.” She leaned forward to Frederick. “Drop us at that little restaurant we passed yesterday that I said looked cute, okay? We’ll cab to the house from there.”
Frederick nodded, never stopping his perusal of the mirrors on an automatic circuit — rear, right, left; rear, right, left. Steven was getting dizzy following it. Then again, if he’d been treating this more seriously he would have spotted the surveillance at his apartment. He was usually good that way, and it annoyed him that he’d dropped his guard and gotten lackadaisical. There had been a time not so long ago when he was so finely-tuned he would have had internal alarms going off the second someone had scrutinized him; just as when Natalie had begun her shadowing.
He resolved to get back into the old habits.
Being rusty could cost him his life, if Natalie was right.
And it looked at this point like she was.
At four-forty a.m., the computers stopped processing and went silent, their decryption job finally completed. Sophie’s whirred for a few additional minutes as it committed the results to a new folder, then closed down the program, automatically putting itself into sleep mode.
The parchment was decrypted, awaiting human eyes to interpret the data.
CHAPTER 15
Steven woke to the sound of a rooster crowing nearby and for a few seconds was disoriented. Then the whole adventure came rushing back to him. He was in a rented villa, being hunted by shady miscreants intent on torturing him, while in the company of a modern Mata Hari with a mysterious past and beautiful eyes.
His phone indicated it was seven in the morning. He sighed, and then focused on meditating: a practice that was second nature to him. Steven felt the immediacy of his surroundings fade away, and soon he was in a void, absent any thought or mental images. After twenty minutes he felt a stirring and returned to conscious awareness, slowly coming back into the world, his nerves alive and again processing sensation.
Swinging his legs off the bed, he debated going for a morning run, but decided that it probably wasn’t the day for it. They had a lot to do, not the least of which was getting away from Florence as soon as possible. Steven peered through a gap in the curtains at the driveway and saw a silver Audi sedan parked in front of the house. Frederick had been busy last night.
Steven shuffled to the bathroom and showered, reflecting on the prior evening as the hot needles of water invigorated his skin. Natalie had proposed having dinner at the restaurant, and they’d lingered over an excellent bottle of Cabernet once their pasta entrées were through. She’d opened up a little, offering glimpses of her past, tantalizing slivers of an at-times rebellious and unconventional adulthood. Natalie had hinted at a background in law enforcement, although she was reluctant to go into detail. But that explained her comfort with weapons and her lack of agitation over their brush with violence.
He fingered the bullet scar on his leg, recalling how long it had been since he’d had to contend with being hunted. Antonia and he had nearly been killed when they’d first landed in Italy, in the small hill town of Todi. That seemed a lifetime ago, but it had only been six years.
Steven snapped back to the present and shut off the water. There was no point in throwing himself a pity party. Antonia was gone, and with her his interest in women. Until now. He had to admit that there was something about Natalie that had gotten to him. Not just the obvious visceral appeal, although that was potent. No, it was more the combination of her looks and her personality. Some elusive quality that was difficult to pinpoint, yet powerful.
She was as unlike Antonia as she could be. American, tattoos, goth look, accustomed to rough situations. And wildly smart, he remembered from their discussion of the Voynich. It was quite a cocktail, and Steven would need to keep on his toes to prevent being lulled into comfortable relaxation. He still wasn’t sure whose side she was on, although he was leaning more towards betting she was on his since the attack. But the truth was that she was on her own, and part of his job over the next few days would be to figure out where he fit in that scheme.
He toweled off and donned some fresh clothes, inspecting himself in the mirror. Not too bad — looked at least five years younger than he was, on a good day. Things could have been worse, he supposed. Steven repacked his shaving kit into the duffel and zipped it closed.
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen to discover it was from the office. Gwen’s voice chirped at him when he answered.
“Your results are in on that task you had Sophie run. You want me to e-mail it to your account?” Gwen asked.