Day of Confession - Allan Folsom [95]
This afternoon he and Scala and Castelletti and two dozen carabinieri had scoured every inch of Villa Lorenzi. Yet they had found nothing. Not a trace of Father Daniel or the people with him. That an ambulance might have been waiting somewhere on the villa’s grounds and the party simply loaded their patient onboard and escaped was not possible, because Villa Lorenzi had only two access ways, the main driveway and a service road, and both were gated, with the gates operated from inside the villa. A vehicle could not enter or leave without the knowledge and assistance of someone inside. And, according to Mooi, this had not happened.
Of course, as cooperative as Mooi had seemed, he could have been lying. Moreover, there was always the possibility someone else had helped Father Daniel escape without Mooi’s knowledge. And then there was the last, the possibility the priest was still there and hidden away and they had missed him.
Once again Roscani inhaled phantom smoke through his fingers, dragging deep into his lungs. At dawn, he and Scala and Castelletti along with a select force of carabinieri would go back to Villa Lorenzi unannounced and search again. This time they would take dogs, and this time they would leave nothing unturned, even if they had to dismantle the villa stone by stone to do it.
65
“CHIASSO… ,” HERCULES SAID AS THEY MOVED away from Milan and up the A9 Autostrada in heavy summer traffic, his eyes intent on Harry at the wheel of the dark gray Fiat Adrianna had left parked across from the railroad terminal in Rome, the keys tossed under the left rear wheel as she’d promised.
Harry didn’t respond. He was watching the road in front of him, his mind focused on getting to the city of Como, where he was to meet Adrianna; and then, somehow, across the lake to the town of Bellagio, where Danny presumably was.
“Chiasso,” he heard Hercules say again, and he looked over abruptly to see the dwarf staring at him.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Did I help you get this far, Mr. Harry? Find your way out of Rome. Onto the Autostrada. Making you go north when you wanted to go south…. Without Hercules you would be coming up on Sicily, not Como.”
“You were magnificent. I owe you everything I am today. But I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Harry suddenly cut right and in behind a fast-moving Mercedes. The drive was taking much too long.
“Chiasso is on the Swiss border…. I would like you to take me there. It’s why I came.”
“So that I would drive you to Switzerland?” Harry was incredulous.
“I am wanted for murder, Mr. Harry…”
“So am I.”
“But I cannot put on the clothes of a priest and pass for someone else. Nor does a dwarf travel by bus or train unnoticed.”
“But he could by private car.”
Hercules smiled conspiratorially. “None had been available until now…”
Harry glared at him. “Hercules, this is not exactly a pleasure tour. I’m not on vacation.”
“No, you are trying to get to your brother. And so are the police. On the other hand, Chiasso is hardly much farther than Como. I get out, you turn around and go back. Nothing to it.”
“What if I said no?”
Hercules rose up indignantly. “Then you would be a man whose word cannot be trusted. When I gave you those clothes, I asked you to help me. You said, “I will do the best I can. I promise you.’”
“I meant with the law and in Rome.”
“Under the circumstances I think it would be more sensible for me to take the help now, Mr. Harry. An extra twenty minutes out of your life.”
“Twenty minutes…”
“Then we are even.”
“All right, then we’re even.”
Very shortly afterward they passed the Como exit, and very soon after that their agreement suddenly became moot. Ahead of them the traffic to Chiasso slowed, narrowing into one lane. Then it stopped. And Harry and Hercules stared into an endless succession of brake lights. Then, in the distance, they saw them. Flak-jacketed, Uzi-carrying policemen walking slowly toward them in the traffic, looking into each vehicle they passed.
“Turn around, Mr. Harry. Quick!