The other seems to have hidden. I scan the area for anymovement, and I finally spot him trying to get inside the already ruined car.
Interesting. He's looking for something.
My lips curl up as I watch him take the empty briefcase, convinced it must have the ring inside. I spend a second at war with myself. Should I kill him or let him leave with the empty case?
The decision is made for me when he enthusiastically opens the case only to realize there's no ring. Even better, his impatience puts him in my vantage point, so it takes only one squeeze of the trigger to watch him fall.
Targets vanquished and with plenty of bullets left, I rise to my feet and dust off my suit. In retrospect, I realize maybe I shouldn't have been so careless with my car, since I find myself without a ride at the moment.
I stop by a window to make sure I look presentable enough, and then I hail a taxi. I might still make it to my flight.
True to his word, the taxi driver takes me swiftly to the airport. The moment I step inside, something is odd. I can feel it in the way the guards are looking at me. Even the airport staff seem to be in on some type of joke as they follow my every movement.
I'm alert and a little wary, but my suspicions are confirmed only when I see a few other people in black suits heading toward the security area, their clothes clearly hiding guns.
Shit!
Whoever is after this ring has the entire airport controlled. There's no way I'm getting out alive if I continue.
I try to look as relaxed as possible as I make my way to the restroom. The moment I'm inside, I immediately lock the door and prop a mop under the handle. Then I think about my options.
The bathroom has a window that leads to the outside yard. Iraise myself up to survey the area, and I don't spot any black suits. For now, this might be my safest bet.
I hold on to the stall as I push myself up to the window, propelling myself outside. It takes a little effort, considering the size of the window. My feet hit the ground with a thud and I make a run for it.
Stopping by the parking lot, I don't even think as I break a window and hot-wire a Fiat.
If the airport is a no-go, then my only option is by sea. The question remains—who the fuck would be so desperate to get their hands on a damned ring?
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I dial Manolo. I quickly explain the situation to him, but I only get a vague answer.
"You knew what you signed up for," he says, and I bet he's shrugging off his responsibility. Gritting my teeth, I hang up, the urge to smash the phone almost too overwhelming.
Yes, these jobs come with a certain degree of danger, but for someone to control an entire airport?
One hand on the wheel, I use the other to take out the ring and study it. There has to be more to it… Curious, a little peeved, but mostly still committed, I map out my course.
I always keep a yacht at Porto Empedocle, so I just have to get there and set sail for Malta. A few hours by sea, there shouldn't be any issues—at least I hope.
I change cars when I'm outside Palermo, and then it's only a couple more hours until I reach Agrigento. I stop in the city to do some shopping. When I pass by a bookstore, a sudden idea forms in my mind. Maybe I can find out more about this ring.
I enter the bookstore and browse the history section. I find a few titles about Anglo-Saxon England and decide to buy those. I'm almost at the register when I spot a kid looking quite scandalized as he picks up an erotic novel, the cover a dead giveaway for the genre.
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth, and I watch,amused, as he furtively starts reading the first few pages before deciding to buy it. He goes to the cashier and puts the book facedown on the counter.
I stay slightly behind, noting the nervousness of his movements. He can't be more than thirteen or fourteen, his height a clear indication that he hasn't gone through puberty yet. He must be all of five feet, and his clothes seem to hang off his slender frame. Once he's paid, he puts the novel in his bag and dashes out of the shop.
I slide my own books onto the counter, the ghost of a smile still on my lips. Absentmindedly, I grab some cash from my wallet and give it to the cashier. When I look at the person behind the counter, though, my smile falls immediately. She's biting her lip and gazing at me with a come-hither look, slowly pushing a note with her number on top of the books.
I roll my eyes and take the books, leaving her note behind.
"Signor…" I hear her call behind me, but I'm already out the door.
The perfect way to ruin my day.
My lip twitches in annoyance and I pull out my pack of cigarettes, slipping one between my lips and lighting it. Taking a deep drag, I dial my uncle to ask him for more weapons. Seeing that this ring might prove more dangerous than I'd previously thought, I need to be prepared for anything.
He gives me the address of his warehouse, and I head over there. When I arrive, I'm greeted by my uncle and his friends, and they invite me to have a drink with them. As much as I want to be in and out, I know it would be disrespectful to my uncle if I did that. So, to appease them, I stay for the first round of drinks.
