The bus doors opened and a crowd of Roma supporters spilled out of the vehicle, led by Amr. Inspector Esposito and her colleague were bemused at first, but their bewilderment quickly turned to panic as fifty fans, some of them armed with crowbars and other tools, encircled our vehicle.
Inspector Esposito glanced back at me as one of the men closest to her swung his crowbar.
“I’m still in the game,” I remarked, the instant before the window shattered.
Esposito tried to draw her weapon but was quickly disarmed by men who prized the front doors open. Both cops were dragged from the vehicle and subdued, and Amr reached into the front and unlocked the rear doors. Someone I didn’t recognize helped me out.
Moments later, another man found Esposito’s keys and uncuffed me. I was ushered onto the bus with the men who’d helped me escape.
The whole thing had taken less than three minutes. When I glanced back, I saw Inspector Esposito and her colleague handcuffed to a lamppost, struggling to catch the attention of passing fans, who were so drunk they laughed and jeered at them, obviously thinking they were the victims of some kind of prank.
I walked to the front of the bus where I found Mo-bot, Justine, and Valentina. We were joined by Amr.
“Thanks,” I said, grateful and relieved to be reunited with them.
“No problem,” he replied.
“You inspire loyalty,” Mo-bot remarked. “At a price. These guys are charging for their time.”
I glanced at Amr, who shrugged. “Business is business, Mr. Morgan.”
I smiled and sat beside Justine as the bus rumbled north past the stunning ruins of the ancient circus.
“So Altmer is dead?” she asked.
I nodded.
“And whoever killed him tried to frame you,” she observed.
“Yeah,” I said.
“If we keep at them, they’re going to change tactics and treat you as a more urgent threat.”
I nodded again. She was right. If I wasn’t already marked for death, it was only a matter of time before a target was put on my back.
CHAPTER86
THE PLAN WITH the bus had been Valentina’s idea. She knew Amr and most of his friends were die-hard Roma fans and that sheer force of numbers could overwhelm any police van or escort vehicles. As it was, Inspector Esposito had underestimated the resources at our disposal, so hadn’t had an escort of any kind.
To avoid any of his friends learning where we were staying, Amr had the bus drop us off on Via delle Ancore, about twenty minutes’ walk from the warehouse. He left the vehicle and joined us on the short journey to make sure we got there safely.
Justine and I walked side-by-side, and even though it didn’t feel right to hold hands in these circumstances, our fingers kept brushing together. In the end, I didn’t care what the others thought. I took her hand, and she smiled at me all the time we were on the dark street.
When we arrived at the warehouse, there was a young womaninside who’d set up a table of serving dishes laden with food. She was of Middle Eastern extraction and wore tight jeans and a retro Madonna T-shirt.
“This is my sister Amina,” Amr explained. “She’s brought the food my aunt made for us. There’skolkas,a taro root stew,koshari,which is lentils, macaroni and rice, andkebab hala,a dry beef stew, plus vegetables,baladibread, and rice. Whatever happens, you will not starve in Rome.”
“Thank you, Amr and Amina,” I said, and the others concurred.
Amina gave us plates and made sure we helped ourselves to plenty of food before joining us in a makeshift dining area between the crates and boxes that formed Amr’s stock.
“Thanks,” I said to my colleagues and new friends.
“Anytime,” Mo-bot replied.
Justine smiled.
“They say you’re a wanted man, as are many of your known associates,” Valentina revealed, looking up from her phone.
