The fractured, p.22
The Fractured, page 22
part #12 of Jonathan Quinn Series
Another answer from below, then a grazie from the man at the top.
That, she got.
The man headed back down the hall. As soon as he reentered the room where he’d been and closed the door, she slipped into the hallway and descended the stairs.
She was on the final few steps, seconds from making it free and clear, when the door to the kitchen swung open and her waiter walked out. He stopped the moment he saw her.
Jar smiled as she stepped off the last step and walked toward the opening to the public dining area.
The man’s gaze flashed from her to the stairs and back, his eyes widening. He asked her a question that she guessed was some version of what were you doing up there?
She smiled again, said, “Sorry, I do not understand,” and swung around the corner into the dining room.
“Stop,” he said in English.
She turned to him, feigning surprise. “Is there a problem?”
“Uh…uh…” He said something in Italian under his breath. “You…stay.”
He moved back into the hallway and shouted something she assumed was meant for the men upstairs.
Instead of remaining there, she continued to her table. It’s what an innocent person would do.
More shouts in the back, a new voice joining the waiter’s, and then the clamor of several people coming down the stairs. The other customers turned to see what was causing the noise.
Jar acted curious, too. When three of the suited men appeared at the back of the restaurant with the waiter, she innocently watched them for a moment until she remembered the comm receiver in her ear. It was small and consisted mostly of a transparent gel-like material, but it was not invisible. If one of the men saw it, they’d know what it was.
Using her menu as a screen, she pulled the device out and stuffed it into her pants pocket.
The men entered the front dining room and surrounded her table.
She looked up. “Can I help you?”
The guy in the middle, a thirtyish pretty boy, said in stilted English, “You. What you do up?”
She frowned. “I am sorry?”
He nodded back toward the stairs. “You go up. Why you go up?”
“Oh. You mean upstairs?”
“Yes. Up the stairs.”
“Sorry, I thought the toilet was up there.”
“Toilet not up there.”
“I know that now.”
Pretty Boy talked to the waiter, then turned back to Jar. “He say you not use toilet.”
“I decided to come back and order food first. Is that a crime?”
“Crime? You police?”
“What? No. I am a tourist.” She laughed. “Police. That is funny. Do I look like police?”
“Where from?”
“Excuse me?”
“You say tourist. Where from?”
“That is none of your business.”
He said something in that other language, and one of his friends reached for Jar’s bag.
“Hey!” she said, grabbing it before he could and standing up. “You cannot touch my stuff like that. Who do you think you are?”
“What your name?” Pretty Boy asked.
“That is not your business, either!” She looked at the waiter. “If this is how you run your restaurant, my friends and I will find someplace else to eat.”
She whirled around and marched across the room. She was able to get the door open and take a step over the threshold before one of the men grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“You not leave yet. Not finish talking.”
“Let me go. I have not done anything!”
“My friend look in your bag. If everything okay, you can go.”
“No! He will not!”
The man said something in his language again. One of his friends clamped onto Jar’s other arm, then he and the first guy began forcing her toward the back of the restaurant.
Behind them, the bell attached to the front door dinged.
*
Nate took another bite of biscotti as he watched the restaurant across the street. Jar had been inside a little under ten minutes. Which meant only ten were left until Nate’s cab drove off, if the driver gave Nate the full twenty he’d promised.
Nate reached for his coffee, but the door to De Luca’s opened and Jar took a step out. Before she was all the way outside, someone yanked her back inside.
Nate jumped to his feet and hurried out of the shop. While his plan had been to avoid direct contact with his friends, it did not include staying idle if one of them got into trouble.
He pulled open the door to De Luca’s and entered. Jar was being held by two men while a third was leading them deeper into the restaurant.
Going with the first thing that came to mind, he said, “Hey! What are you guys doing? Let go of my girlfriend!”
The procession stopped, and Jar and the others turned to Nate. There was no hiding the surprise on her face, but thankfully the men weren’t looking at her.
Nate hurried over to her. “Sweetie, are you okay? Are they hurting you?”
Jar might not have had the best social skills, but she wasn’t clueless. “They think I have done something, but I have not done anything.”
“It’s okay, babe. I’ll take care of this.” He looked at the man who had been leading the others and said in Italian, “Tell your friends to let go of my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Yeah, now let her go. Or I call the police.”
The man grinned as if Nate had told a joke. When he spoke again, it was in an Eastern European language Nate didn’t know.
The two men holding Jar loosened their grips but didn’t release her.
“I said, let her go.”
“Not until I know why she was upstairs.”
Switching to English, Nate said, “He says you were upstairs and wants to know why.”
“I already told him. I got lost.”
Nate now understood what was going on. Thinking quickly, he came up with a plan. “Lost or poking around?” He sighed and shook his head. “Sweetheart, how many times do we have to talk about the fact that people don’t like when others snoop around their places?” Switching back to Italian and taking a softer tone, he said, “I’m sorry. My girlfriend likes to see how things are put together. She’s a student. You know, architecture?”
The man who’d been doing the talking narrowed his eyes. “Study what?”
“Architecture. Designing buildings and that kind of thing.”
It took a moment for the man to work it out. When he did, he looked at Jar. “She’s an architect?”
Nate laughed. “No, not yet. She’s still at the university.”
To Jar, the man said in English, “He say you a student. What you study?”
“Architecture,” she said as if it were a stupid question. The Italian words for architect and architecture were similar to those in English, so Nate had been confident she’d pick them up.
“This is why you go upstairs?”
She did an admirable job of looking uncomfortable. “Maybe…I am sorry. I just wanted to see how the building was laid out. See if it was a good use of space. Which, by the way, it is not.”
The man seemed a bit unsure of what she’d said, but apparently it had been enough to convince him she wasn’t a problem. He said something in the other language to his friends, and they let go of her.
“Next time you be careful where you go,” the man said. “Now get out of here. Not come back.”
Jar straightened her shirt. “Why would I come back? You have not been very—”
“Honey,” Nate said, putting a hand on her back. “We should go.”
Jar glared at the three men, and then marched past Nate toward the exit.
“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Nate said before following her.
He caught up to her on the sidewalk and put an arm around her back, in case the men looked out at them. She tensed and tried to pull away.
“Relax, it’s just for show.”
Though she stopped squirming, she didn’t relax. “Why does everyone want to pretend I am their girlfriend?”
“What?”
“You did today. Daeng did last night. I am not a helpless girl who needs a man to save her.”
“Whoa. No one said you were.”
“I could have gotten out of trouble back there on my own.”
“Without hurting someone?”
She looked the other way.
“Jar, you’re one of the last people I would ever think of as helpless. But sometimes a little assistance is okay no matter who you are. Would you rather I’d have let you handle that yourself?”
Again, no reply.
“I didn’t help out because you were a helpless girl. I did it because you’re my friend.”
She breathed deeply, then said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They crossed at the corner and headed down the intersecting road. As soon as they were out of sight of the restaurant, Nate removed his arm from her back.
“What are you doing here?” Jar said.
“I was asked to come.”
“We were told you said you would not.”
He took a moment before answering. “I needed a little time to think about it.”
They walked in silence for several moments.
“I am glad you are here,” Jar said.
He smiled. “It’s good to see you, too, Jar.”
Jar reached for her pocket and pulled out her phone. There was a text on the screen. “It’s Daeng.”
“Is he okay?”
She tapped a reply. “It is nothing.”
For the next several moments, she and Daeng traded messages. Finally, she put the phone away.
“You’re sure he’s not in trouble?”
“I am sure.”
“Did you tell him about me?”
“No. Did you want me to?”
“I, um, I’m not sure yet.”
“And that is why I did not tell him.”
“Thank you.”
She looked as if she was going to say something, but thought better of it.
“You want to tell me what you were doing in there?” he asked.
Jar was only partway into her story, of what had transpired since she and Daeng had arrived in Rome, when they reached her scooter. Nate hopped on behind her and had her drive him to where he’d left his cab.
Surprisingly, it was still waiting.
“Not going to need you anymore,” Nate said. “But thanks for taking me around.”
Looking disappointed, the cabbie handed Nate a business card. “If you need another ride, call me.”
Nate glanced at the card and stuffed it into his pocket. “Thanks, Flavio. I will.”
After the taxi drove off, Jar told Nate the rest of the story there at the side of the road.
“No idea what was in the cases they carried inside?” he asked.
“They were always closed.”
“Why take them to that restaurant?”
“I do not know that, either.”
He said nothing for several seconds. “I’m not sure if the place is important or not, but it would probably be a good idea for one of us to keep an eye on it.”
“Or we could put up more cameras.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have cameras?”
“I have a full kit.”
“Oh. Okay, good. We should definitely put up…wait, did you say more?”
“Yes. In addition to the ones I put in the upstairs and downstairs hallways inside the restaurant.”
“You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“It was implied.”
“How do you imply…you know what? Never mind. Let’s get those cameras up.”
*
Drake pulled the SUV to the curb in front of St. Amand’s residence and called Manfred, the man he’d left in charge at the restaurant. “Is everything set?”
“Yes, sir.” Something in Manfred’s tone undercut his response.
“You don’t sound sure.”
Manfred hesitated. “There was a woman upstairs.”
“In the room?”
“No,” Manfred said quickly. “In the hallway, I think.”
“You think?”
“Mr. De Luca caught her coming down the stairs.”
“Did you talk to her? What was she doing?”
Another pause. “She was a tourist. I think she was just looking around.”
“A tourist? How do you know that?”
“She was Asian and spoke English.”
Asian? He recalled the couple from the previous night. “Was she alone?”
“Her boyfriend was with her.”
“He was Asian, too?”
“No. Caucasian. He spoke Italian with an accent. British or maybe American.”
Drake relaxed a bit. The couple outside St. Amand’s office had both been Asian. “So, what happened?”
“I talked with them for a few minutes. They were harmless so I let them go.”
Drake was silent for a moment. Chances were, Manfred was right and the woman was nothing to worry about, but Drake never liked leaving things to chance. “Do an electronics sweep and take another look around. When I call back, I want you to guarantee me that everything is buttoned up and ready.”
“Right away.”
*
Manfred conducted the sweep himself, starting with the meeting room. The only time he or one of the others hadn’t been in it since their last sweep was when they questioned the woman, so, as he knew would be the case, he found nothing.
As he moved into the hallway, though, the digital meter ticked upward for half a second before falling back to zero. He stopped, waiting for the meter to move again, but it remained in place. He tried walking over the same spot again. No blip this time.
The device had probably picked up someone’s cellphone. It was supposed to screen out mobiles but that didn’t always happen. He moved slowly down the hallway, his eyes glued to the screen. A bug would light the thing up, but other than a few normal-level twitches, the meter stayed quiet.
He checked all the other upstairs private dining rooms before heading downstairs, where he scanned the hallway, kitchen, toilets, and public dining areas. All came out clean. He texted Drake, letting him know everything was fine, and returned to the meeting room.
*
The cameras stayed dark for five minutes after detecting a scanner, then only enough power came on to reactivate the sensor. When no scanner was detected, full power was restored, and the two cameras Jar had placed inside the restaurant went back online.
*
Daeng didn’t realize Jar had turned off her comm until the SUV stopped next to a row of buildings in the Trastevere district. He had thought the silence was due to traffic noise drowning out the signal. Now that he was stopped, he realized nothing was coming through at all.
“Jar?” he said.
Dead air.
Was she in trouble? Had she been caught?
He should have insisted on staying.
He started the engine again, planning on returning to the restaurant, but before he could pull back onto the street, the driver climbed out of the SUV. As the big man moved around to the passenger side, three other suited men exited the building next to the vehicle.
One of the suited men was wearing a hat and sunglasses and scarf.
St. Amand. Crap.
“Jar,” Daeng said again.
Nothing.
The driver opened the front passenger door and Potential St. Amand climbed in. The other two got into the backseat.
Crap, crap, crap.
Standard mission protocol dictated that he follow the target and let his fellow agent handle her situation herself. But this was Jar, and she was really no more than an apprentice.
He sent her a text.
Your comm is off. Is everything okay?
At the SUV, the driver climbed in behind the wheel, and within moments was pulling the vehicle onto the road.
Daeng opened up the tracking software, activating not only the dot linked to the bug on the SUV but also the one for Jar’s phone.
Huh. She wasn’t at De Luca’s anymore, though she was in the vicinity of the restaurant. Was that a good sign or bad? His phone buzzed.
A text from Jar.
Was worried receiver would be seen. Everything is fine.
Okay, that was good news, but if everything was fine, then…
Turn your comm back on.
Her reply came a few seconds later.
Cannot now. Soon.
He tapped another message.
Explain.
Her response:
Busy.
He started to type another message, but stopped. If she was busy, then his continued questioning could jeopardize what she was doing.
Reluctantly, he erased the message and zoomed in on the dot for the SUV. It had stair-stepped four blocks to the northeast. He attached the phone to the holder on his dash and took up the chase again.
