Kill Me If You Can

me, she’ll have earned it.”

Chapter 58

THE BEST WAY I can describe what was going on in the lobby of the Danieli was discreet commotion. The manager of the hotel, several of his assistants, four desk clerks, and a couple of bellmen were scurrying about — some of them communicating by radio in hushed voices. But I could hear the overtones of panic.

I caught the words al quinto piano repeated several times—“on the fifth floor”— referring to the location from which Marta Krall had just taken her swan dive. Members of the hotel staff were on their way to the room with the broken window. I figured la Polizia di Venezia couldn’t be far behind.

The chaos worked in our favor. Katherine and I strolled casually through the lobby and out the front door with our bags. Had anyone been paying attention, it might have been noticed that we hadn’t bothered to check out. But everyone was far too busy to notice a chatty couple who were debating whether to visit the Peggy Guggenheim collection at the Museo d’Arte Moderna or spend a few hours at the Gallerie dell’Accademia.

If this were New York City, we’d have jumped in a cab and tear-assed down the Grand Central Parkway straight to JFK. But there aren’t a lot of high-speed getaway options in Venice. A gondola would have been romantic but not too smart.

There was a water taxi parked in front of the hotel and we got in.

It was a ten-seater. We were the only two passengers.

“Railway station,” I said. “Venezia Santa Lucia.”

“Cinque minuti,” the driver said, not moving the boat. He pointed to the eight empty seats.

“What’s going on?” Katherine said. “Why aren’t we moving?”

“He wants to wait five minutes till he gets more passengers.”

I could see cops storming into the hotel. Katherine and I had registered in our own names, so it wouldn’t be long before the local police were looking for us. When they didn’t find us, they’d widen the search. We had to get out of Italy before our pictures were posted at every border crossing.

“Waiting is not an option,” I told Katherine.

She clasped her hands together and looked to the heavens. “God, my boyfriend’s been a little crazy lately,” she said. “Please don’t let him ask me to swim.”

I kissed her on the forehead and turned to the water-taxi driver. “Siamo in ritardo per il nostro treno,” I said.

Katherine looked at me.

“I told him we were late for our train.”

The driver shrugged. “Gli Americani sono sempre in ritardo,” he said.

“He says we’re always late. Quanto?” I said. “How much?”

“Novantacinque euro.”

“Ninety-five euros. How much for tutto?” I said. “The whole damn boat. Immediatamente!?”

“Seicento.”

I dug into my pocket and peeled off three two-hundred-euro notes. The engine turned over as soon as the bills left my hand.

“Siete Americani?” our taxi driver said as we cut through the water past the Palazzo Ducale.

“No, we’re not,” I said.

He shrugged again. He had all the money he was going to get out of me. No small talk required.

Katherine leaned into my chest and I wrapped my arm around her. “Just in case you were wondering,” she said, “I’m petrified.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This isn’t exactly what I had planned.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “Paris was amazing. Venice is inspiring. Except for that blond bitch who shot at us, it’s been a heck of a vacation.”

I kissed her.

“Where are we going now?” she asked.

“Amsterdam.”

“What’s there?” she said.

“Beautiful canals, great nightlife, and incredible art — the Rijksmuseum has all the Dutch masters. Rembrandt, van Gogh, Vermeer — you’ll love it.”

She stared at me. Her gray eyes were steely now. “Matt, cut the travelogue bullshit. The Italian police are looking for us, and instead of racing back to New York, we’re on our way to a museum in the Netherlands? What happened to Trust me?” she said. “So let me repeat the question. What’s in Amsterdam?”

I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “People who buy diamonds.”

Chapter 59

IT TOOK FIFTEEN minutes to get to the train station. I was eager to come clean to Katherine, but just in case our six-hundred-euro captain had a better handle on English than he had let on, we just sat and enjoyed the view.

The next train to Milan was leaving in forty-five minutes. From there we could catch the overnight train to Amsterdam. Flying would take only two hours, but that meant going through airport security, and I had decided to hang on to Marta Krall’s gun.

I bought two first-class train tickets to Milan and reserved a sleeper car for the second leg of the trip.

We sat down to wait at a little coffee bar. I ordered a cappuccino. Katherine had a caffe con panna, which is basically espresso topped with sweet whipped cream.

“Do you remember what we were talking about in our hotel room before we were so rudely interrupted?” I said.

“Do I remember? First you nearly gave me a heart attack when you showed me what was inside your little doctor kit, then you said something like — but wait, that’s not all. You were going to tell me another big secret, when the door crashed in.” She sipped her espresso. “Are you going to tell me now?”

I nodded. “Walter Zelvas — the guy who got killed at Grand Central — was a professional killer,” I said. “He worked for the Russian mob. Among other things, they run a global diamond-smuggling operation, and Zelvas was taking off with a bag full of diamonds that he stole from them. They found out, and they hired another hit man to kill him. Zelvas didn’t die from a bomb blast. He was professionally terminated.”

Katherine put her hand up to her mouth. “You’re…you’re telling me the truth, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I swear.”

“But how do you know? How did you find out?”

“I’m the person…they hired to kill Zelvas.”

Her body started to shake. “No. No. No. It can’t be possible. No.”

“Katherine, first of all, it’s true,” I said. “I can’t expect you to understand, but I love you too much to keep it from you. And after what happened in our hotel room, you have to know. That woman’s name is Marta Krall. The people who hired me to kill Zelvas hired her to kill me and get their diamonds back.”