I killed the call and went into the bathroom, tossing cold water onto my face. I wasn’t sleepy—I was wide-awake, alerted by the sheer terror of knowing I could get offed any minute now—but I needed to think clearly.
Achilles was nearby. But knowing justhownear he was would determine my next steps.
I grabbed my backpack and went downstairs, pouring myself into a sun-drenched Venice.
Reconnaissance.
I needed to feel out my surroundings and strategize accordingly.
I took the bus to Santa Lucia, two stops from my motel, and crossed the Ponte della Liberta.
Once I arrived at my destination, I blended with the schools of tourists, heading toward a street littered with shops until I found an internet café. Keeping my head low, I proceeded to the last stall. The PC was ancient and cruelly slow, and the entire setup was in Italian. Still, I managed to check the schedules for the Ferrantes’ private plane through a flight tracking website. According to the site, he had three more hours in the air.
My body sagged with relief. I still had time. Not a lot, but enough to throw a few wrinkles in his path to me.
Tiernan was wrong. I couldn’t outrun Achilles Ferrante. He was too smart, too patient, and too methodical. What I could do was kill him. I’d still spend the rest of my life hiding from the Camorra, but no man knew me as thoroughly as him. No other man could find me.
I logged on to my new email, knowing full well he could track me through my IP, just as well as I knew there was nothing he could do about it until he landed.
I didn’t have to wait long.
From: [email protected]
Re: Hi, asshole.
Hello, Louise.
I mustered all of my bravado not to pass out on the keyboard, even though the desire to throw in the towel was strong. The adrenaline crash was bound to hit me sooner or later. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept and didn’t know when the next time would be. How long could I keep this up?
How about a duel?I offered.
I didn’t have a gun, but I could ambush him with another weapon. If I played it smart.
Sure. I’ll duel with you. When and where?
Licking my lips, I craned my neck to make sure no one was coming in or out of the café.
Piazza San Marco. 3:30 p.m.
It was a crowded place, leading to both main streets and private alleyways. Endless opportunities.
It’s a date.
I logged out of my email, deleted the history on the browser, and walked out of the internet café. Next, I went back to the taxi and bus station, returned to the mainland, and got into a Leroy Merlin—the closest thing in Italy to Home Depot—where I stocked up on three Swiss knives, small sharp scissors, and a zip tie. From there, I went to Piazzale Roma, where I checked out the area and possible escape routes on foot.
I stopped at a café and downed two espressos one after the other. After emptying my bladder in the restroom, I headed to a souvenir shop across the street, leafing through Venetianmasks. I chose apiuma volto intero—a full face cover—made of papier-mâché. It was white, with a golden eye mask and feathers framing it.
Flicking my wrist to check the time, I saw it was almost three o’clock. I slinked out of the store and headed to the center of the square. I wanted him to see me.
I was bait, and he needed to bite.
Too bad he was about to find out I was pure poison.
Tourist season was at its peak and Piazza San Marco was full to the brim with street performers in Venetian masks. Enough that my sporting one didn’t raise any eyebrows and allowed me further anonymity.
Achilles was going to show up here. And when he did, I was going to lure him somewhere and finish him off.
