I, Saul (35 page)

Augie and Sofia kissed goodnight at the suite door. She buried her head in his chest. “Hasn't been a good day for me.”

“I just hope your dad's smart enough to back away from this, for your sake.”

She shook her head. “Too lucrative. If he really cared about me, he wouldn't be in this deep already. Honestly, offering you a finder's fee ….”

“I think I convinced him I'll play ball, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn't. And neither does your plan for tomorrow. Roger's right. Dimos had to tell that number-two guy all about us or he wouldn't have agreed to pay us off. And that alone is worrisome, don't you think? Once
he has what he wants, we're as expendable as your Vatican friend was.”

“That's why we've got to play this to the end, Sof. Give them nothing until we're paid, then the money becomes evidence against them.”

“But somebody in authority has to know that in advance. If we get caught, it'll be too late to claim we were just setting them up.”

“Then I've got to get to Colonel Emmanuel, the top guy,” Augie said.

“Without Sardinia finding out? How?”

“I wish I knew, Sofia. You've got to wonder how much Emmanuel knows. Probably only what Sardinia wants him to believe.”

“If they
have
been tracking us by our passports, Sardinia probably already told his boss you're a friend of the guy who had Klaudios killed. How do you prove whose side we're on before this blows up?”

“First we've got to get that original page secured. Roger says the banks open at 8:35. We start there. Then go straight to the Art Squad to establish where we stand.”

“How sure are you that this Emmanuel is clean, Augie?”

“Don't think I haven't wondered. But Dimos says his contact there plays the colonel like a fiddle. If he was just trying to impress me, why wouldn't he claim he had the whole squad in his pocket?”

“I just hope my mother will visit me in prison,” Sofia said.

“You joke, but you're not invested in this. You can back away whenever you want, and nobody will hold it against you.”

“No thank you. Right is right. If you and Roger and I are going down, it'll be together.”

Sofia left with another kiss, but not five minutes later called Augie's phone. “I'm an idiot,” she said. “I left a bag in the closet at the other hotel.”

“Let's go get it.”

“It'll wait. Good thing I didn't check out. Can we leave a little early tomorrow so I can pick it up before we go to the bank?”

“Your hotel lies between the bank and the Art Squad. Bank first, then hotel, then squad headquarters, okay? And bring the photocopies. Might as well put them in the bank too.”

They agreed to meet in the lobby at eight.

Augie lay on his back in the darkness, hands behind his head. Across the way he heard Roger call out from his bed, “Still awake, Augie?”

“Yeah.”

“Think Fokinos has already reported in?”

“‘Course. Those guys can't see past the dollar signs. They're probably not sleeping either.”

“Fokinos is convinced we're sitting on the rest of the manuscript. I'm dying to know where Giordano stashed it, but I'm glad we haven't even opened that envelope. As long as they think we know, they need us. I just hope whatever's going to happen happens soon. I'll go nuts waiting in Sofia's room all day.”

“When I get to read the whole memoir, it will all be worth it. Listen, Rog, what's it going to mean to you if the rest of the memoir is as clear as that first page? What if it proves that Paul is the author of all those letters in the New Testament?”

“You're wondering if I heard you last night.”

“Sorry?”

“Every word.”

“You were pretending to be asleep?”

“I guess. I'm not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Can't ask for more than that.”

Augie had finally drifted off—he didn't know for how long—when his cell phone buzzed. He squinted at the screen.
Oh no!

“Mom! What time is it there?”

“A little after five-thirty. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Dad okay?”

“As a matter of fact, he is.”

That was a relief. Augie hoped to get one more chance to talk to his father, but it hadn't seemed likely. “That's good. Hope to be home soon. But I need to get some rest before tom—.”

“Someone wants to talk to you, August. Hold on.”

“Mom, I—.”

“Augustine?”
“Dad?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You did?”

“It's been a long time, son. Longer than I knew.”

“You sound pretty good, all things considered.”

“Surprised you can even hear me. Your mother has to hold the phone for me.”

“Dad, I'm so glad you're back with us—” “Probably not for long, I know that.”

“Well, I didn't know if I'd even get a chance to say good-bye, Dad. I'll try to get back soon so we can talk.”

“I'd like that.”

“You would?”

“Stop acting so surprised, Augustine. I'm not dead yet.”

“I'm just happy. There are things I want to tell you, need to tell you.” “Nothing needs to be said, son. I'm glad I got to talk with you one more time anyway.”

One more time? When did we ever talk before?
Augie wanted to get home in time to say his good-byes without bitterness. A lifetime of pain would not be erased by one last conversation, but to have one relatively normal conversation with a father he had hardly ever known would be a bonus. “I'll look forward to telling you about my trip,” Augie said.

“Um-hm,” his father said, clearly ready to nod off again. “Rome, your mother said. The one place I didn't mind visiting. That's where Michaels lives, you know. You remember, the guide who—.”

“I'm with Roger, Dad.”

“I'm ‘bout to fall sleep again here, son, but greet him for me, would you?”

Augie heard a rustle and his mother came on. “Be safe and hurry home, August.”

“How about that?” he said.

“I know. I feel like it's a gift from God, just for us.”

Augie felt conspicuous striding through the cavernous bank lobby, certain the nine millimeter was obvious under his jacket.

More than one customer looked up as he and Sofia passed, but Augie quickly realized that each was a man with his eyes on Sofia.

He and Sofia sat across the desk from a middle-aged woman as she explained to them the options for a safe-deposit box. Augie found his knee bouncing and reminded himself that no one knew what was in the bag on his lap.

“
Dimensione?”
she said at last.

“Oh,” he said. “Big enough for this?”

The woman produced a tiny tape and came around the desk to measure the bag. “
Quarantatre da trentotto centimetri,”
she said.

Augie looked to Sofia. “Seventeen by fifteen inches,” she said.

The woman checked a laminated card.
“ Centocinquanta euro all'anno”

“One hundred fifty euros a year,” Sofia told him.

“That's like two hundred bucks,” Augie said. “How much for a few days?”

Sofia translated, and the woman shook her head.
“Un anno è il minimo.”

“One year is the minimum, Augie.” “Highway robbery.”

Sofia leaned close. “Hon, we're out of options. Think of it in light of the value.”

They completed the paperwork and the woman led them back to the vault, explaining that the bank would not open Augie's box unless he failed to renew the payment after a year. He felt better when they were back in the cab, the key in his pocket.

When the taxi pulled in to Sofia's original hotel, she grabbed Augie's arm. The parking lot was full of blue and white
polizia
cars, along with a boxy white
ambulanza
with orange stripes.

“Avoid the front!” Augie said. “Pull in down there.”

Sofia translated and the driver used a far entrance.

The back of the seat pressed against Augie's weapon as he slid out, slinging his empty leather bag over his shoulder. He and Sofia shaded their eyes against the piercing sun, watching the activity from one end of the parking lot. “I don't want to go in there,” she said. “What if they're looking for me?”

“Why would they be? Someone's had a heart attack or something, that's all.”

“Then why so many carabinieri? Somebody's exposed us, Augie. Better warn Roger.”

“Not till we know what's going on. They can't have shut down the whole hotel. See if you can get to your room.”

“Come with me.”

Augie started to follow but stopped when his phone rang. Sofia didn't look back.

He didn't recognize the number. “This is Knox,” he said.

“Augie, it's Roger. Don't go to Sofia's hotel.”

“Just got here.”

“Get out of there. It's all over the news. Fokinos was found dead in his room, twenty-two to the temple. They're looking for his traveling companion, the woman he checked in with. Sofia's picture is on TV. They'll trace her passport number and come straight here. I'm getting out. I'll meet you at—.”

“Got to call you back, Rog.”

“I don't have a ph—!”

Augie pocketed his phone and rushed inside, sprinting down a long corridor, ignoring the ringing in his pocket and afraid to call out Sofia's name.

He reached a perpendicular hallway, skidded to a stop and peeked left, then right, having no idea where her room was. At the next intersection he did the same. Far down the hall on the right Sofia had stopped in a corridor full of carabinieri. The cops had surrounded her and one was handcuffing her.

Augie reached for the Smith & Wesson and froze.What was he going to do, draw down on the
polizia
and rescue his fiancée? All things considered, she was safer with them for the moment. Augie didn't know
whether he could forgive himself if he left Sofia behind, but if he admitted who he was he'd have little chance of talking his way out.

As he hurried back outside, Augie reminded himself that Sardinia still needed what only he had. Trouble was, Sardinia finally had access to the one bargaining chip that could make Augie give up the key to the safe-deposit box.