Both Joyce and Harry were looking at him. Joyce said, "So what do we do?"
They came in through the library and strolled from room to room. The one with the shotgun was called Marco. Like Benno he was from Naples; he didn't think much of the north and had never been to Rapallo before. He thought the sea in the north looked different, a gray color without life in it; the food was bland and the houses were dark, the ones they had searched.
He said to Benno, "There's no one here."
But then had to change his mind when they strolled into the kitchen and saw the bottles on the table, plates in the sink. The stainless coffeemaker was unplugged. But when Benno touched it he jerked his hand away. So, if the people weren't here they had just left. Harry Arno and his people, Benno believed, because the woman in the real estate office said the villa Sr. Arno leased was on this road near Maurizio di Monti and showed them a photograph, an old one, of the place when it was a farm and this could be it. The reason they weren't entirely sure, they didn't have the photograph with them.
Benno had phoned from the car, after passing the villa twice, to say he believed he had found the right one, and was told the African had been taken, the one who drove for Harry Arno. They said to Benno wait and they would find out the location of the house and call him back. But Benno had a feeling this was the one, so they came inside.
Once they left the kitchen they no longer strolled but moved carefully now, thinking of the one in the cowboy hat and remembering Fabrizio sitting in the car with his head against the window, his eyes open, two bullet holes in him. It was Benno who said, "The one with the cowboy hat..."
Marco said, "If he's here I have something for him."
So when they came to the front hall Benno motioned to the stairway and Marco, with his double-barreled shotgun, went up ahead of him.
Joyce heard the floor creak and knew they were in the hall now approaching Harry's bedroom. The door was open so they'd look in there first. Look in and see Harry sitting in a chair waiting.
There. It was happening. One of them speaking Italian, surprised. Then silence.
"It has to be Harry sitting there," Raylan had said, "because these two have never seen him before and won't know it's Harry." They'd look in and it would stop them, hold their attention. See, Raylan said, then he'd come from across the hall -- where he and Joyce were now -- the room with the door closed, creep up behind the two guys talking to Harry, wanting to know who he was, and disarm them.
Getting their attention and holding it, Raylan had said, was the key. Otherwise, where were they going to hide?
Raylan opened the door and Joyce heard the voice again speaking Italian. Now another one, in English with an accent: the two guys talking to Harry as Raylan crossed the hall, stepping over the board that creaked. Joyce stayed close behind him, entered the room with him, and stopped as Raylan said, "Put the gun on the floor. Right now." Joyce moved to the side, holding the Beretta extended in both hands, the way he had shown her.
The one with the shotgun, the short barrel across his forearm, didn't move. The one in the striped shirt turned enough to see them pointing guns at him from about ten feet away. Raylan approached him and took the automatic the man had stuck in his waist. Raylan said to the one with the shotgun, "You hear me? Put it on the floor. Now."
He still didn't move. The one in the striped shirt said, "Marco don't speak English."
Raylan reached over with his Combat Mag, held the revolver pointed at Marco's ear and cocked it.
"He understand that?"
Marco stooped and placed the shotgun on the floor as the one in the striped shirt said, "He knows a few words."
Harry picked up the shotgun, dug his pistol out of the chair cushions, and came around past the two guys. Joyce thought he looked a little sweaty. But he was still Harry: glancing out the window at the Mercedes and saying, "I see we've got a car."
Joyce said right away, "We have to wait for Robert," and looked at Raylan.
He didn't say anything.
The one in the striped shirt said to Joyce, "You mean his driver, the African? The one brought you here from Milano? You waiting for him, you going to wait a long time."
Joyce looked at Raylan again, expecting him to say something. All he did was stare at the one in the striped shirt, who stared back at him and seemed at ease, as though he had the advantage now.
He said, "I hear on the telephone in my car, they find the African. Looking for a Mercedes, uh? Like the one I drive. So I hear they take him someplace."
Telling it in a casual way, acting almost indifferent now. It got to Joyce. She said, "What do you mean take him someplace?"
"Someplace quiet, nobody bothers them."
She said, "For what -- goddamn it!"
"Why do you think for what? You want to know something he knows, what do you do?"
She said to Raylan, "Jesus, you hear what he's saying?" and waited. Raylan still refused to say one fucking word to the guy: staring at him but not even pointing his gun now. Joyce was pointing hers, holding the muzzle of the Beretta centered on the striped shirt.
"If they have him," Harry said, "then he's told them where I live and that's it, we better get out of here."
The one in the striped shirt was shaking his head, confident. "You too late. Take my word."
"Right now," Harry said, "it's time to leave."
"What we have to do," Joyce said, "is find out about Robert."
She saw Raylan look at her and then turn to Harry and take the shotgun from him, Raylan saying, "Whatever you want to bring along, get it ready," and looked at her again. "Can you pack in five minutes?"
She said, "I haven't unpacked, but I'm not leaving without Robert."
"I'm going to talk to these fellas about that," Raylan said. "See if they can help us out." He said to the one in the striped shirt, "Is that okay with you?"
The man shrugged, indifferent. "I don't know what you talking about."
Raylan said, "What do they call you?"
This time the man hesitated.
"My name's Benno."
"And he's Marco, huh, I think you said? I'm Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens. You know what you two remind me of? Company gun thugs. People the coal operators hire during a strike to cause trouble. Benno, huh? I knew a gun thug in Harlan County, Kentucky, looked just like you, named Byron. Always had a speck of tobacco juice in the corner of his mouth." Raylan touched his lip. "Right here. Well, I'm going to ask you boys to step outside with me, if you will." He turned to Harry, saying, "I need a key to the garage. That door in the middle."
Harry found it in a little box on his dresser and handed it to Raylan no questions asked, Joyce watching, curious, as Raylan motioned to the two men now to come past him. Benno seemed to stroll toward the doorway, hands in his pockets. Marco didn't move until Raylan poked him with the shotgun.
Joyce said, "You're going out to the garage?"
"Someplace quiet," Raylan said, "where nobody'll bother us."
She saw Benno glance around to give Raylan a look, not as confident as before. When they were out of the room Joyce moved to the window. She said to Harry, already taking his clothes out of the armoire, "I think I know him, but I don't at all."
Chapter Twenty-One.
She heard Harry say, "I don't even know where we're going. I don't care either. I think you're right, I should've gone to Vegas, someplace like that, Tahoe, or stayed home. You hear what I'm saying? Don't tell me I never admit when I'm wrong." Harry busy, animated, saying, "I didn't think it ever got this cold here. You know it?" Saying, "Come on, we have to be ready."
Joyce didn't move from the window.
Finally, there he was in the side yard herding the two gun thugs past the Mercedes parked there, moving them toward the garage. She had never heard that expression before, company gun thugs, but knew what they were, strikebreakers in Kentucky, gangsters here or in South Florida. He'd waited until he had something to say before speaking to them.
Now he wa
s handing something to Benno. The key? That's what it was. She watched Benno remove the lock from the middle garage door and with an effort swing it open a few feet. Raylan waved him out of the way then and motioned for Marco to go inside, into the empty middle area of the garage, between Harry's Lancia and Raylan's rented Fiat. He was in there now and Raylan was talking to Benno, Benno posing, standing in a slouch, one hand on his hip, gesturing with the other, and now Raylan was pointing the shotgun into the garage, holding it with one hand. He would have to be aiming at Marco; though she couldn't see him now. Benno gestured again. Raylan cocked the shotgun. Joyce said, "Harry, come here, quick."
Benno was shaking his head. "I'm supposed to say, what? Oh, please, no, I do whatever you want. Like I believe you gonna shoot him? Or, I say, Okay, go ahead. But if you gonna do it, then I want to see you do it. You don't shoot in there and I'm supposed to think you killed him." Benno gestured again. "So, go ahead."
"I can't fool you," Raylan said, "can I?"
"Anybody can look at you, know you won't shoot him like this. You don't have the coglioni."
"I don't?"
"You think I'm a fool, threaten me like that?"
"I felt it was worth a try."
"I told you I won't do what you want because why should I? Even though I could, because I wouldn't hurt nothing if I did."
"I didn't think it would."
"But you shouldn't have try to force me."
"You're right. So now that we have that cleared up, will you do it?"
Benno paused, as though giving it some thought.
"Okay, but not because you scared me."
"I understand."
"Or because I think you gonna shoot Marco."
"No, I understand that," Raylan said. "You're doing it out of the kindness of your heart."
"That's right. So come on."
They walked back to the Mercedes. Benno reached in for his telephone and punched a number. He waited, began speaking Italian a mile a minute, and then waited again. Raylan heard a voice say in English, "Yeah, what?" and Benno handed him the phone.
"It's the punk."
Raylan nodded. He said, "Nicky? This is Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens. How you doing?"
He asked Joyce if she'd move the cars out of the garage so he could lock Benno up in there with his buddy. This was in case they knew how to hot-wire a car, start it without the key. Raylan said if they did they could bang Harry's car and his rented Fiat against those old doors till they gave way. After that he explained his plan: what he believed was the only way for them to slip out of the country without getting caught.
Joyce didn't care for the idea.
"Why can't you go with us?"
"If I do, how'm I going to check on Robert?"
"I mean we wait, all go together."
"We wait, none of us'd make it."
Harry said, "Let's get out of here."
By dark they were in the Mercedes headed down the hill, Raylan driving, Harry and Joyce in back, the two of them ducking down as they drove through Maurizio di Monti, past those pale buildings in the dark, light showing in some of the doorways, past a car where a figure stood with his radio, ready to report but not watching for a Mercedes. Raylan's hope, the guy would think it was Benno going by, fast.
Except for Harry it was quiet in the car. His problem, he still believed Robert had told where he lived.
"If he did," Raylan said to the rearview mirror, "they'd have been to the house before we left and we'd have taken our last breath."
Why couldn't he see that?
Harry said, "Which one did you talk to?"
"The young guy, Nicky."
"They try to make Robert tell?"
"He didn't say."
"Why didn't you ask?"
Raylan, steering through one of the hairpin curves, kept quiet.
"But why wouldn't he tell if they asked him?"
"I'll find that out," Raylan said, following his headlight beams. The narrow road and the darkness, no lights anywhere for long spells, reminded him of home.
"They must've at least beat him up," Harry said. "Done something to him out of meanness. I remember hearing one time how the Zip slammed a guy's wang in a car door. You ever hear of anything like that? They made the guy stand outside against the car and somebody inside the car held a string tied to the end of the guy's wang, you know, so it would stick out and they slammed the door on it. You imagine how the guy must've yelled? I get a pain in my stomach thinking about it."
Raylan would look at the mirror trying to catch a glimpse of Joyce, sitting back there in her wool coat not saying a word. She'd said as they were putting the luggage in the car, "I think I know you but I don't." Sounding like it was his fault, and he didn't know what to say to that. Did she want his life history? He could tell her that in about two minutes.
Looking at the mirror he said, "We just passed under the autostrada but there's no way to get on it here. I found that out driving around looking for your place."
Harry said, "They have ways of making people talk you wouldn't believe. They'll use an ax, chop off a guy's foot. Start there and work up."
Raylan said, "Maybe they didn't ask him," more to shut Harry up than give an opinion.
"I think Robert would've told them anyway," Harry said. "What I can't understand is why they didn't come."
Raylan let him think what he wanted.
Once they reached the outskirts of Rapallo, Raylan had to feel his way to Corso Mameli, one of the city's main streets. He followed it to Via Savagna, the road that hooked up with the autostrada, and started looking for one of the Zip's watchdogs, knowing he would have to be right around here.... Saw the car parked at the side of the road and pulled up behind it, a gray Fiat.
Raylan said, "Stay down, okay? Till I handle this," and got out of the car with Marco's sawed-off shotgun.
A figure was coming out of the Fiat speaking Italian, asking a question, it sounded like, a radio in his hand. He reached into the car and brought out a flashlight, still talking Italian in the dark at the side of the road, no cars going by, till Raylan asked him if he spoke English. The guy paused barely a moment and began talking again, putting the flashlight on Raylan. But now Raylan had the shotgun up in the light beam, pointing it at the guy's face, and he shut up.
He didn't speak English.
A couple of minutes later Raylan was standing by the Mercedes, opening the door and telling them it was okay, they could come out. They acted surprised, looking around as they straightened up and he told them he'd locked the guy in the truck of his car.
Neither of them said anything, Harry still looking around in the dark. When they were in the front seat of the Mercedes, Joyce behind the wheel, Raylan said through the window, "This gets you on A-12 north. It goes straight to Genoa. What you have to do is find the airport and get on the first plane out of there. I mean no matter where it goes." When she didn't nod but kept staring at him he said, "Will you do that?"
Harry came to life. He said, "We'll be okay."
Joyce looked away for a moment to start the car. Now she was looking at Raylan again and it gave him a funny feeling.
Harry said, "See you around."
Joyce said, "Take care of yourself."
He said, "Don't worry," and smiled.
She didn't, or even try to.
The Mercedes backed away from him to get around the Fiat. As the car came forward again he saw Joyce's face, her solemn expression, the kind people have in church, and he wondered in that moment if she was a religious person. Something he hadn't thought of before. Right then he heard Harry raise his voice to him saying, "I can't believe you'll find Robert in one piece."
Chapter Twenty-Two.
The gun the Zip got for him was a .32 caliber Targa automatic, six bullets in the magazine. Nicky said, "Six, that's all?" And the Zip said, "You know what you're doing it's five more than you need." This was at the apartment where they were staying. Nicky looked the gun over, saw how it worked, and
extended it in both hands, closing one eye and aiming at a picture of fruit on the wall nearest him. He turned to aim at something farther away and came to the Zip with his back to him, looking out the window. Nicky held the barrel on the middle of the Zip's back thinking, Man, it would be so easy, pow, and that was when the Zip turned around. He didn't act scared or excited seeing the gun pointing at him, so Nicky kept staring as he lowered it, showing the Zip he was cool, showing him it could be done. The Zip said, "There's only one way to shoot a man in the back. In front of a mirror, so he sees you doing it. The way Ed Grossi was shot. You know Ed Grossi, the one ran things before Jimmy Cap? They found him in the bathroom of an apartment he used sometime in Boca Raton. He's on the floor, but there's blood and parts of him all over the mirror, a big mirror, covered the wall. So you know he saw who it was and he saw himself get killed, shot in the back of the head."
That was yesterday.
Today, this afternoon, while they had the colored guy in the next room, Benno called asking for somebody who spoke English and Nicky had the phone handed to him. It was the cowboy saying he knew they had Robert and they had better not harm him. Nicky said, "That's what you called to tell me?" The cowboy said he wanted to talk to the Zip. So then Nicky had to go down the hall to the Zip's apartment and tell him.
The Zip said, "I thought he'd come looking after a while. How's he know we have the colored guy and where'd he get this phone number?"
Nicky said, "Why don't you talk to him?"
The Zip said, "I'm busy."
So Nicky had to go back and forth saying what one said and then what the other said. Should he tell the cowboy nobody had spoken to the colored guy yet or laid a hand on him? (Everybody wondering what the Zip was waiting for.)
The Zip said, "Don't tell him nothing."
Nicky went back to the phone and told him the Zip didn't want to talk to him.
The cowboy said, "Tell him I'll trade him Benno and Marco for Robert Gee. Two for one."
Nicky went back down the hall and told the Zip, who stood in the doorway of his apartment wearing a bathrobe and it looked like nothing under it.
The Zip said, "Tell him he can keep Benno and Marco. He wants to trade Harry he's got a deal. Tell him I been waiting for him to come around. He wants to talk to me, okay, be at that cafe he goes to and you meet him there. Tell him he can see the colored guy."