James Twining - The Geneva Deception

The room jumped around them, smoke and dust avalanching through the opening, bits of plaster peeling off the walls like the bark on a cork tree, a terrible, angry roar lifting them off their feet and knocking the wind out of them. But, as some primitive, instinctive part of Tom’s brain had no doubt intended, the two-inch-thick armoured glass absorbed the brunt of the blast, its surface cracking but holding firm.

There was to be no such reprieve from the second grenade, however. Having struck the marble table it bounced into Moretti’s lap. He looked up, his eyes beseeching, mouth gaping as De Luca dived out of the way. Then it went off, cutting Moretti in half and sending a meteor shower of shrapnel across the room.

Tom looked up from where he had thrown himself to the floor, barely able to see through the thick smoke that seemed to have blown in like a sea fog. Ears ringing, he staggered to his feet and made his way unsteadily towards where he had last seen Allegra and the others, tripping over De Luca, who had lost a shoe and whose arm was hanging limply at his side, blood leaking from a deep gash to his head. The two halves of Moretti’s body were lying next to him, although the way they had landed made it look as if his legs were growing out of his head. It was a gruesome sight.

Coughing, he knelt by Allegra’s side. She seemed okay if a little disorientated, Moretti having clearly absorbed the worst of the explosion. But both Archie and Dominique were injured-Archie clutching the side of his face, the blood soaking through his fingers, while a shard of hot metal had embedded itself in Dominique’s thigh.

‘Are you okay?’ Tom called, knowing that he was shouting but still barely able to hear himself.

‘We’ll be fine,’ Archie said through gritted teeth. ‘Just go and shoot the bastard.’

With a nod, Tom jumped across to the pile of guns discarded by Gallo’s men, grabbing one for himself and tossing another to Allegra, who was now back on her feet.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, her eyes filled with the same diamond-tipped determination he’d seen when she’d engineered their escape from the car park.

They sprinted back through the various decorated rooms towards the bath complex and the vaulted tunnel that led outside.

‘Wait!’ Allegra called as he turned towards the entrance. ‘Can you feel that?’

He paused, and then realised what she meant. A fresh breeze was tickling his cheek, the air sweet and rich compared to the otherwise brackish atmosphere. Santos must have found another way out.

Turning to her right, she led him down a narrow tunnel that rose in total darkness up a steep incline. Feeling his way along the brick walls, Tom followed closely behind, the breeze getting stronger, until they found themselves in a square chamber. Above them, an iron ladder climbed towards a patch of star-flecked sky. At the foot of the ladder, a body was lying on a bed of rubble. It was Gallo.

‘He’s alive,’ Allegra said, kneeling next to him and pressing her fingers against his neck. Tom wasn’t sure if she sounded relieved or disappointed. ‘Santos must have thrown him back down the hole.’ She pointed at the colonel’s arm, which was bent up at an unnatural angle where he had dislocated his shoulder in the fall.

Tom flew up the ladder, emerging under the disapproving glare of an angel that had escaped damage when Santos had smashed through the gravestone she had been guarding. Hauling himself clear, he reached down to help Allegra climb out, the flickering blue lights on the other side of the cemetery indicating where Gallo’s man had congregated around the entrance to the Merisi tomb.

‘Which way?’

Allegra’s question was almost immediately answered by the sound of an engine being started. They ran to the cemetery wall, Allegra giving Tom a leg up, Tom then reaching down and hauling her up behind him. As he jumped down on to the pavement, an ambulance surged out of the darkness, headlights blazing, Santos hunched over the wheel.

Stepping into the road and taking careful aim, Tom unloaded a full clip into the ambulance’s onrushing windscreen. Allegra, still perched on the wall, did the same. But they both missed, forcing Tom to leap out of the way at the last minute as the ambulance veered past, followed the road round and then disappeared into the night.

‘ Merda ,’ Allegra swore.

‘I had him,’ Tom panted as he clambered back up alongside her. ‘I was aiming right at him.’

‘Well, you missed. We both did.’

‘That’s impossible.’ Tom shook his head, popping out the magazine and checking it. ‘He was coming straight towards me. He could only have been thirty feet away. Less.’

A sudden thought came to him. An impossible thought. And yet… it was the only explanation. Ignoring Allegra’s calls, he jumped down and raced back to the stern angel guarding the shattered gravestone. Peering through the opening to check that no one was coming up behind him, he lowered himself inside and then slid down the ladder.

‘Don’t move!’

Hearing the voice, Tom turned and saw that Gallo was conscious now, propped up against the wall and being attended by a medic. Four armed policemen were eyeing Tom suspiciously, their machine guns raised.

‘It’s okay,’ Gallo rasped. ‘He’s with us. Her too.’

Tom looked up and saw that Allegra was climbing down towards them. The policemen relaxed, allowing their weapons to swing down across their stomachs.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Tom demanded angrily.

‘What do you mean?’ said Gallo, wincing as the medic prodded his shoulder.

‘I mean this-’ Stepping forward, Tom smashed his forearm into the bridge of a policeman’s nose and wrenched the machine gun from the man’s grasp as he staggered back, howling in pain.

‘Tom, what are you doing?’ Allegra gasped as he swung the weapon towards Gallo and flicked the safety off.

‘Ask him,’ he replied tonelessly, before pulling the trigger.

The gun jerked in his hand, the muzzle flash lighting the narrow tunnel like a strobe light, hot shell casings pinging off the walls, the noise crashing around them with a deafening echo that seemed to feed off itself and last long after the final shot had been fired.

Gallo returned Tom’s accusing glare through the smoke. Unharmed.

‘Blanks?’ Allegra’s face turned from horror to understanding, to confusion as she looked from Tom to Gallo.

Pushing the medic roughly out of the way, Gallo heaved himself to his feet.

‘We need to talk,’ he growled.

‘ You need to talk,’ Tom corrected him.

‘Fine, but not here.’

Ponte Sant’ Angelo, Rome

20th March-11.55 p.m.

With his men forming a cordon at either end of the bridge, Gallo led them out to the middle, then turned to face them, his arm strapped across his chest where the medic had popped his shoulder back into its socket.

‘This will do.’

‘Where have you taken Archie and Dom?’ Tom asked angrily.

‘To hospital,’ Gallo reassured him. ‘My men will take you to them when we’ve finished.’

‘The same men who attempted a rescue armed with blanks?’ Allegra snorted. She didn’t believe a word he said any more.

He gave a heavy sigh.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Is that your idea of an apology?’ she shot back.

‘There are forces at work here. Powerful forces.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Tom’s tone was caught between irritation and impatience. ‘I want an explanation, not a palm reading.’

Gallo paused, turning to face down the river so that his back was to them.

‘Santos is connected. Very well connected,’ he began. ‘It seems that, over the years, the Banco Rosalia has done a lot of favours for a lot of people.’