“There’s been a shooting at Valentini. Two agents are down!” the man shouted.
“I’m calling Lucia,” Matteo said, hitting the screen of his phone with the tip of his finger. “Quello che è successo?” he shouted when she answered. “Wait. I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Mancuso is down, so is Romano.” It sounded as though she was running.
“What about Tara?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Where is Pia?” asked Matteo.
“She and her mother are in Milano. They left early this morning.”
“Confirm that,” Matteo said to me.
I stepped away and dialed Pia, who immediately answered. “Hello, Ben. How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine, Pia. Thanks. Um, did you happen to speak with Tara this morning?”
“Tara?”
“I’m sorry. Catarina.”
“No, my mamma and I left very early. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine.”
“Ben? You’re worrying me.”
“She and I had a spat, is all.”
“I see. I warned you not to hurt our Catarina.”
“I’ll do my best to make it up to her. I promise. I’ve got to go. Oh, before you hang up, when do you think you’ll return?”
“Not for a few days. I told Catarina this yesterday. I’m
taking my mamma to see a medical specialist. Is there a reason I need to come back?”
“No, of course not. I’m sorry to have bothered you with this.”
I relayed everything I’d learned from Pia to Matteo as we raced out of the building. Not far from where we stood, a helicopter waited to transport us to Valentini. We were inside, headsets on, when another call came through from Lucia. Matteo hung his head as he listened.
“Both Mancuso and Romano are dead. Tara Emsworth is nowhere to be found.”
Once back at Valentini, I couldn’t control the thoughts racing through my head. There wasn’t a single part of me that believed Tara killed two AISE agents. Imagining what might have happened instead, left me feeling so sick to my stomach that I’d attempted emptying it more than once.
I watched from the terrazza as a team from AISE continued to comb the farmhouse for evidence. Other than the fact that the two men assigned to her detail were dead, there was no other sign of a struggle.
I checked the time. It had been seven hours since the call came in, saying the two agents were down. Seven hours since I called Doc to brief him on what had transpired and tell him that Tara was, again, missing.
It would be another eight before he and whomever he was bringing from the K19 team landed at the Florence airport. The only person I knew for certain was coming, other than him, was Tackle. Doc made it clear that when the K19 plane stopped at the private airfield near JFK to refuel, Tackle would meet them there.
“Wait,” I’d said before he ended the call. “I’m sorry, Doc.”
“Apology not accepted. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
Whatever the ultimate outcome, I’d handled so many things wrong since the day I first set foot in Italy that I didn’t deserve to become a K19 partner. Security guard at a mall would be out of my reach.