Countdown - Iris Johansen [60]
“I can see it is.” She went to her chair in the corner and sat down. “But you’ve been translating too much Cira if you’re starting to do comparisons with theaters and plays.”
He glanced at the statue by the window. “There’s never too much Cira.” He looked down at the photocopy on the desk in front of him. “I have to call Trevor. I believe I may have found a reference he’s looking for.”
“Ah, the gold?”
“Yes, anything to do with the gold.” He frowned. “No, I’ll wait until the final translation. I have to check over the inserts I had to make. I have to make sure that—”
“Mail call.” Trevor stood in the doorway with a small package and two letters in his hands. “For you, Mario. Just arrived by special messenger.” He came toward the desk. “Who do you know in Lucerne?”
Trevor’s tone was without expression, but Jane was suddenly aware of an underlying tenseness in his demeanor.
“Lucerne?” Mario’s gaze focused on the mail Trevor had placed before him. “For me?”
“That’s what I said.” Trevor’s lips tightened. “Open it.”
A chill went through Jane. She knew how careful Trevor was with all aspects of security. She didn’t like this. There was something wrong. “Have you checked it?”
“Of course I’ve checked it.” He never took his gaze off Mario. “No bombs. No powder.”
“Then why are you—” She broke off as she watched Mario open the letter and start to read it.
“Or maybe there was a bomb,” Trevor murmured.
She knew what he meant. Bewilderment and then horror froze Mario’s expression as his gaze flew across the page. “What’s wrong, Mario?”
“Everything.” He lifted his eyes. “Everything. How could you do this? Why didn’t you give me the other letters, Trevor?”
“What letters?” Trevor asked.
“I have to see the tape.” He frantically tore the wrappings off the package and took out a black VHS case. “Where’s a VCR?”
“The library,” Trevor said. “I’ll go with you and set it up.”
“No, I’ll go by myself,” he said jerkily. “I don’t want your help.” He ran from the room.
“What happened?” Jane asked as she got to her feet.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” He crossed to the desk and picked up the letter.
Jane frowned. “That’s a breach of privacy.”
“Sue me.” Trevor was already reading the letter. “I’ve an idea the content’s aimed at me anyway. Mario was— Shit!” He thrust the letter at Jane and headed for the door. “Read it. Son of a bitch . . .”
Jane looked down at the letter.
Mario,
Why do you not answer them? They’ve sent you letter after letter and told you what they’ll do to me if you don’t stop what you’re doing. Surely blood is more important than your work. What evil have you become mixed up in that would cause these men to do this to me?
I don’t want to die. Answer them. Tell them you will stop.
Your father,
Eduardo Donato
Then below the handwritten letter was one typewritten line.
Since we’re not sure that you’re receiving these letters, our patience is at an end, and we must show both you and Trevor we mean what we say.
The tape!
“Christ.” She threw the letter on the desk and flew from the room.
The door of the library was open and she heard the sound of sobbing as she ran down the hall.
“Oh, God.”
The TV screen was blank but Mario was bent double, his shoulders heaving. “Santa Maria. Dear God in heaven.”
Trevor’s hand gripped his shoulder in comfort. “I’m sorry, Mario.”
“Don’t touch me.” Mario wrenched away from him. “They butchered him. You let them kill him.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “He was an old man. He worked hard all his life and he deserved to live in peace. He didn’t deserve—” He swallowed. “Dear God, what they did to—” He brushed past Jane as he ran out of the room. She didn’t believe he even saw her.
Jane stared at the flickering screen. She didn’t want to know the answer but she had to ask. “What happened to him?”
“He was beheaded.”
“What?” Her gaze flew to his face. “Beheaded?”
“Barbaric, isn’t it?” His lips twisted. “And they threw in all the trimmings, including holding up the old man’s head after the act.”
She felt sick. It was more