Jeff Carson - Foreign Deceit

Wolf centered himself within the throngs of people and shuffled forward, surveying ahead. He narrowed his eyes. Tito just inside the entrance to the piazza along the left side, talking conspiratorially on his cellphone. A quick plan materialized in Wolf’s head.

“Can I get one of those, Officer?” Wolf watched Tito slip his phone into his pocket and put a cigarette in his mouth.

Tito’s sagging eyelids shot open in surprise at seeing Wolf.

Wolf nodded up to the apartment. “How’s it going? You keeping an eye on my brother’s apartment?”

Tito’s mouth sagged open, dropping the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What are you…” Tito stopped at the sharp pressure at the small of his back. Wolf waited patiently as he fumbled in his empty holster, then realized it was his own Baretta held on him.

“Don’t you dare make a move or a sound,” Wolf said menacingly. “I’ve got nothing to lose here. If I have to kill you to get away, that’s no problem with me.”

People streamed by, pushed forward by the current of humans behind them, none seeing the situation for what it was.

Wolf jabbed the barrel up harder. “Give me your phone.”

Tito pulled it out, and Wolf took and opened it up. Capitano Rossi with his phone number listed underneath was displayed on the screen.

“Was that Rossi on the phone just now?”

Tito arched his back at the gun’s pressure and winced.

“Relax, Tito.” Wolf stepped in front of him and removed the radio from his belt. “Just relax. I’m going to let you go on about your business. You stay right here as if all is fine.” Wolf put the radio and phone in his left sweatshirt pocket, pointing the gun at Tito’s belly through the fabric of the right. “Otherwise, I’m going to shoot you.”

Tito’s mouth dropped open a sliver and his arms went limp by his sides.

“Good. Now first, tell me who just called you. It was Rossi, right?”

Tito nodded his head.

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to know if I had seen you yet.”

“Yeah? What did you tell him?”

“I said I had not.”

“Okay, and what did he say?”

“He was very angry sounding, and said to call heem when I saw you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? He did not say why, just to call heem.”

Wolf eyed him. “Remember what I said. See you later, Tito. We’ll have a laugh about this someday, I promise.”

Wolf walked briskly away from the piazza, taking one random turn after another. The long tone rang up against Wolf’s ear.

“Pronto?” Paulo’s voice was distant sounding.

“You in front of a computer?”

“Tito? What? Who ees thees?”

Wolf stopped walking. “It’s David Wolf. I’m here with Lia and Tito. But, listen, we have a few favors to ask, well, Lia has a couple favors.”

He proceeded with the acting job of his life, and hung up with a spark of hope.

Wolf scrolled through the phone and found Officer Parente.

The phone rang and rang, then cut out with a beep, beep, beep .

Wolf’s blood pressure rose as he looked at the phone. The reception bars were gone, a dashed line in their place. He reluctantly back tracked his route, the bars jumping up to three as he turned left around the corner he’d just come from.

He dialed again, and listened to the ring repeat for a full thirty seconds.

His stomach sank. He hadn’t thought of the simple fact that she’d probably screen Tito’s calls at all costs.

Wolf closed the phone and exhaled loudly, staring straight up. Swarms of huge insects clouded around the lights along the tall walls of the surrounding buildings. Dark blurry fluttering bats dove in and out of the swarms.

The phone vibrated in his hand. Wolf looked at the phone, the illuminated screen displayed Officer Parente . “Hello?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Lia? Is that you?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s David. I’m on Tito’s phone.”

There was silence on the other end, then a group of fifty CC motorcycles revving loud into the phone. A split second later Wolf heard the same sound in his free ear, though much fainter, coming from the direction of the piazza.

“Couldn’t hear the phone the first time because of the noise in the piazza, huh?”

There was silence for a second. Wolf looked back at the phone reception. “Where are you David?”

“I’m near.”

She stayed silent.

“I didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Vlad. What am I, an idiot?”

She exhaled loud, crackling the speaker in Wolf’s ear.

“Look, I need to meet with you,” he said. “I’ve figured everything out. I need to meet with you and Rossi. Get hold of him, and you two meet me at my apartment in one hour. Okay?”

She paused a beat. “What’s going on David?”

“I’ll tell you when you show up, all right? All I ask is make sure you answer each and every phone call you get tonight, all right? It’s important.”

He hung up and headed back down the street and around the corner, straight into a pistol pointed at his face.

Behind the sound suppressed pistol was the now familiar tiny smiling mouth of the man he’d come to know as Cezar. “Don’t move.”

Wolf didn’t move, nor did he put his hands up in a defenseless gesture. He was studying the pistol in front of him. It didn’t waver a centimeter, the knuckle white with tension on the trigger.

“I said don’t move,” he repeated, reading Wolf’s thoughts.

Wolf slowly raised his hands out to his sides. Just then a shuffling came up behind him, and hands dug into his waistband, pulling out the Beretta tucked into the back of his jeans.

“Ciao.” Rossi was behind him. “Let’s go,” he said giving a sharp shove on Wolf’s back.

They walked quietly for three or four minutes. Wolf could hear Cezar’s long stride and his energetic throat clearing, and Rossi’s shorter stride, breathing heavily from his mouth, maybe to withstand the pungent sewage smell that seeped from every other drain.

Down and down they continued along twisting and turning narrow streets. Of the few patrons they saw, only a few noticed what was happening as they passed. Those that did let out hushed whispers and turned with interest to watch the strange procession.

They came around a slight bend to Rossi’s Caribinieri Alpha Romeo.

They reached the door and Rossi turned to Wolf, “Put your hands behind your back.”

Wolf stopped and looked around, putting his hands on his hips.

Rossi raised his hand in a fluid motion, pointing his suppressed Beretta at the side of Wolf’s face. “I said put your hands behind your back.”

Wolf narrowed his eyes. “It was you who killed my brother.”

Two gargantuan hands gripped his wrists and shoved him up against the side of the car. Steel handcuffs clamped hard and tight.

Wolf lashed his right heel up and back with as much strength as he could muster, then turned around.

Cezar was doubled over on the ground grabbing both hands at his crotch.

Wolf smiled, and all went black.

Cold water slammed his face, forcing underneath his eyelids. He sat up straight, sucking in a hard breath, blinking and wincing in pain.

“Ancora!”

Another cold explosion hit his face, forcing him upward into a wide mouthed inhale. He shook the water away and opened his eyes in hard blinks.

A bright halogen light on a pole was set up in front of him, shining directly in his face. He squinted hard, turning his head back and forth hard, desperately trying to figure out what was happening. There was a guy sitting cross-legged against a wall to his immediate right. He lowered a bloody towel that was pressed against his nose, revealing a rueful grin.