40 - Duplicity

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René stood at the consol, her eyes staring straight ahead as she automatically steered the boat through the dark waters. Richard draped his jacket over her shoulders and stood shivering by her side, hanging onto the consol frame for support. The boat bounced and slewed across the chop at maximum speed and Richard had to shout over the engine and wind noise. She just stared ahead, steering instinctively on course for Genoa.

When they pulled up to the dock, Richard jumped ashore and tied the boat down, helping her out and holding her hand tightly so that he could speak with her.

"René, you have to believe me, I couldn't avoid any of this but now we are free of it; we just have to quickly get out of Italy and lose ourselves on the continent."

Her eyes filled and she shook her head. "All this killing and running . . . I can't do it. You go; I'll take care of myself."

No! You can't! Don't you see how they will just keep coming if we don't get away?" She calmly began moving away.

"C'mon, we'll grab a cab and get out of here." He tried again.

"Great idea, I have just the right destination."

The voice caused Richard to spin around, reaching for his gun, but the grip on his wrist ended that thought and he buckled to his knees.

"Not a word miss, one peep and I break it. Now you just go over there and flash your attributes at the next taxi."

Richard winced as he was hoisted back on his feet, his arm painfully twisted up his back.

"Who is it this time, Agency or Tremblay?" He shuffled forward as René waved down a passing taxi.

"I'm letting go of your arm, if you don't want your lady friend and the cab driver shot then behave."

Richard complied, massaging his arm, and climbed into the back of the cab with René.

"Via Balbi. Number ten, six, fifty."

The man turned in the passenger seat and smiled at René, indicating the gun he held near the side of the unsuspecting driver. The ride proceeded in silence and when it ended, the man tossed some Euros on the seat and climbed out, holding the back door for René and Richard.

They looked about the broad avenue where not too far along the road were the impressive structures of the Royal Palace and the University Palace. The man snapped a command to move and he shoved Richard east along the street toward the Church of the Annunziata.

At a small side street of cobbled stones, branching off the main roadway, the man halted and checked the main road in both directions and then silently indicated to Richard to proceed.

Ancient wooden doors with massive, ornate strap hinges, lurked in tiny alcoves, which dotted the stone walls along the street, and when they came to an intersection, the man stopped them while he opened a door in the corner building.

Inside was a gloomy room with old and worn furniture covered in dust, a few pieces, decorated with marquetry in the style of the 14th century that appeared as if at one time they were valuable. Richard and René stood on a tattered carpet in the centre of the room while the man turned on some small table lamps.

He stuck his head around the corner of another room and then came back, indicating to them that they should sit down. Dust puffed up from the stiff upholstery and René gave a small cough, covering her mouth.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Richard asked.

"I have what I want and who I am is of no concern." The man leaned, with little regard, against a faded but flamboyant chest.

"So now what?"

"Now I make a phone call," he checked his watch, "and then we conclude our business."

Richard reached for René's hand but she drew it back and sat in stony silence. He searched her face for attention but she kept her gaze averted from him.

"Lover's spat?" The man sneered. A cell phone chimed and he reached into his topcoat pocket.

"Go ahead." He listened, all the while his eyes fixed on Richard. A frown creased his forehead and he made an annoyed sound.

"Why the change? Why bother me at all?" He listened some more then closed the phone and put it away.

"Dollars to doughnuts that was Nathan Fischer." Richard chuckled. "I knew this was an Agency move; Jean Tremblay would have shot us on the spot. His reasons are more basic."

"Don't be so sure that's not in the offing, old boy. A mutual acquaintance is on his way to take charge."

"Murray." Richard felt a hole open in his stomach.

"Bingo!" The man moved from the chest to an upholstered armchair and sat with an insolent slouch.

Richard leaned forward, hands clasped in front of his knees.

"Let this young lady go, she has absolutely nothing to do with any of this."

"Really? I wonder then why my employer is so keen to get his hands on her."

"I made her do it. She doesn't even know what it's all about. I made up a story to convince her I needed help. You don't need another body."

"I don't need anything except for you to behave until Murray arrives. After that I'm rid of this operation; a total waste of my time."

The telephone sounded and the man pulled it from his pocket again.

"Yeah." His face set in a grim frown and he tried to speak a couple of times and stopped, a flush creeping up his face. When the call ended he slammed the phone closed and stared at the floor.

"Murray can't get here." Richard assumed that there would not be a boat available and that he would have to go by taxi all the way around the gulf; it could take hours.

The man glared at him and stood up, pacing the room.

"Got a heavy date." Goading the man might induce a mistake he could take advantage of; on the other hand it could backfire. Richard sat forward on the dusty seat trying to position himself for action.

"Shut your mouth."

"I hate it when the mandarins keep changing the game and the rules."

"I said shut up."

"Can we at least get something to eat or drink?"

"I'm not running a hotel here." The man stopped pacing and stood threateningly close to Richard.

"Christ, man, at least some water-for the woman!"

He made a face and looked at René then backed up to the doorway to the other room.

"Go and find a glass; there's a sink in the corner." He waved his gun at René.

She got up and crossed to the doorway, waiting while he stepped aside. Richard tensed his legs ready to spring if the opportunity presented. He could hear cupboard doors opening and closing and then the sound of water running. The man tipped his head around the corner, his gun pointing approximately at Richard.

"Hurry up."

"I'm trying to get the rust out of the line." She answered.

The man snorted and leaned on the frame watching Richard.

When René returned, she paused in front of the man and when he looked at her, she tossed the liquid from the glass into his face. The roar was a surprise to Richard, thinking it was just water, but when the gun fell to the floor and the man staggered around bumping the furniture, he looked at René, who was flattened against the wall, her knuckles set defensively.

Richard grabbed the gun and pulled her away from the screaming man.

"What was it?"

"I found vinegar in one of the cupboards."

"Jesus, good thinking." He grabbed the man by the collar of his coat and dragged him to the kitchen, turning on the tap.

"Rinse your eyes," he commanded, jamming the gun into the man's neck.

Ten minutes later, the man was secured in a big arm chair with drapery cord wound around his ankles, wrists and waist. His eyes were rimmed red and he kept blinking the tears away that were streaming down his cheeks.

Richard pushed gun against his temple, hearing René gasp, and asked the man his name.

"I know it doesn't matter now but I like to know who chases me." He pressed harder and the man grunted.

"Mick Hardy."

"Never heard of you."

"And you never would... normally." He glared through his watery eyes at René.

"What was the plan, Nathan gave you?"

"Who says it was Nathan?"

"Me. Now answer the question or you'll have something else to cry about."

"I was to meet you at the marina, bring you here and shoot the both of you."

"What changed?"

"I was supposed to let you speak to Nathan first, that's why I waited for the call."

"And?"

"And he said he was changing the plan; Murray would be taking over." He shook his head and asked if someone would wipe his eyes for him.

René got some paper towel from the kitchen and soaked it in cool water then came back and wiped his eyes.

"Thanks."

Richard asked what he knew about why he was supposed to shoot them and learned that it was because he had gone rogue and was responsible for the deaths of a team of Agency hounds.

"That's not true!" René said with an odd calm.

"Don't worry about it," Richard exhaled a deep breath. Nathan never mentioned the money apparently. Mick Hardy was just an Agency cleaner being used to find and hold them until Murray arrived to get the bank draft. The rogue bit was just an excuse for Mick. Richard didn't envy the patsy.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Not your concern, Mick."

"You know what'll happen if you leave me here."

"Not my concern, Mick." Richard's voice was cold and flat and René gave him a questioning look.

"What are we going to do?" She asked.

"Get out of here for starters." Richard went through Mick's pockets and took everything he found, stuffing them in his jacket, then, as an afterthought, he untied Mick and removed his topcoat, retying him under protest.

"You can't leave me here."

"What is he worried about?" René was confused, and Richard seemed very disinterested.

"His skin. We have ourselves to worry about." He gave his jacket to René and then slipped on the topcoat. "Let's go."

Mick struggled against his bonds. "No! Wait!"

Richard opened the door and let René out. He gave a last look at the stricken Mick then closed the door. He led René up the cobbled street back to the main road and they caught a taxi, directing him to find a secluded, small hotel well away from the business area. His inference was cemented with a handsome tip, compliments of Mick Hardy's wallet.


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