*
Via Nazionale
KARL BRETZ was getting increasingly frightened, as well as angry with himself. Some bastard had killed Otto at Monte Sisto. Herr Kessel had been knocked out by the news, and insisted on going out last night to rent a car, so that they could get away from Rome quickly if they had to.
He and Herr Kessel had produced their driving licenses at the rental agency, where Herr Kessel put his card on the counter -- the card for emergencies the Gypsy children had missed. There was just enough on it to pay for a small red Fiat, and cover the security deposit.
"The sooner I get the replacement for my main card, the better," Herr Kessel had muttered, just loudly enough for Karl to hear. Karl remembered grinning to himself.
When it was nearly midnight he had driven alone to the priest's apartment block. He'd managed to identify the priest's window, but the carabinieri car turned up, making him hurry away. He seemed to be behaving like a little school kid, frightened of everyone. He'd never acted like this before. Had Otto Bayer's death really affected him this much? Very early this morning he had returned to complete the job with the priest.
He kept thinking about the old witch with the handgun. The woman in the apartment block had been too inquisitive. The main bell seemed to ring in her room, for it was the old troll who had thrown open her window last night, and it was the same old troll who had come to the door this morning. He cursed the way the woman had withheld the information he needed. And why was an old hag allowed to have a gun? Well, she would be too ashamed of her damaged face to poke it out of the window again. What a coward he'd been to have turned and run away from a woman. What was he, Karl the Kindergarten kid?
Unfortunately the priest would be alerted to his presence now, for it had definitely been Sartini calling down from the window last night. But priests were stupid people and this one would make an easy target. His only fear now was that Herr Kessel would find out about his attack on the old woman.
"Bring the car round to the front of the hotel, young man. We're going to the Colosseum."
Herr Kessel's sudden command made him jump. He got up slowly. "It's too early to meet your phone contact," he protested.
"I want to be early, Karl. And you're going up first. It could be a trap."