“This can’t be happening,” Katherine whispered. She was staring at the floor now, not at me. She couldn’t look me in the eye.
“I think I know what you’re going through,” I said. “The night I got out of the Marines, my father told me that he’d been a professional hit man. He made it sound almost all right. Logical. He only killed bad people, he said. It was like being an executioner in a prison — a really well-paid executioner. He wanted me to think about doing it, too. At first I wouldn’t even consider it. But eventually he turned me. I kill evil men like Walter Zelvas. And the money I get paid lets me follow my dream — it lets me paint.”
Katherine was in shock. Her face looked tortured. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it. You kill people? For money? And your father was doing it before you?” She paused, and then she hit me with the same question I had asked my father. “Did he ever tell your mother?”
“Yes,” I said. “He said it took her years to get used to it.”
“Well, I’m not your mother,” she said, sobbing. “Good-bye, Matthew.”
She stood up, grabbed her bag, and started walking.
I jumped up and followed her. “Where are you going?”
“Away from you. There’s a bus that goes to the Venice airport. I’m buying a ticket and flying to New York. I’m going home. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Ever.”
I ran after her, took her by the shoulders, and spun her around. “Please, Katherine. Don’t leave.”
I stared into her eyes, but the eyes that looked back at me were empty, lifeless. My mind told me to let her go. She would be safer in New York. But my chest was heaving, my heart was breaking, and the emotions I’ve always managed to keep bottled up inside began spilling out.
“You know how much I love you?” I said, my voice cracking. “Please don’t leave. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“Take your hands off me,” Katherine said. “Or I’ll scream.”
My hands dropped to my sides. “Katherine, what I do…what I did…it’s a job, like being in the Marine Corps was a job. But it’s not who I am. You know the real me. Nothing is more important to me than our relationship.”
“You’re wrong, Matthew. I never knew the real you. And our relationship has been built on a mountain of lies. Good-bye.”
She turned and walked off.
I stood and watched her disappear into the crowd, feeling something I can’t remember ever feeling before.
Abandoned.
Chapter 60
THE TRIP ACROSS the northern Italian countryside took almost three hours. The train stopped at Padua, Vincenza, Verona, and other cities steeped in the history of the Venetian Republic, but without Katherine to appreciate them with me, I barely looked.
It was 7 p.m. when we pulled into Milan, and I had forty-five minutes to stretch my legs before the sixteen- hour train ride to Amsterdam.
Milano Centrale is one of the most beautiful railway stations in the world, but it reminded me of Grand Central Terminal, and that reminded me of the night I found the diamonds. And of course finding the diamonds is what led to losing Katherine.
I was miserable. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the only person I knew who could understand what I was going through.
It was 11 a.m. in Colorado, and my father picked up on the first ring. “How you doing, boy?” he said.
“Been better,” I said. “I made the mistake of taking my girlfriend on a business trip and it didn’t go well.”
“I’m guessing she found out what business you’re in, and she’s none too happy about it,” he said.
“You’re pretty smart for an old jarhead.”
“Don’t have to be smart if you’re experienced,” he said.
“So lay some experience on me. I could use a little of that fatherly wisdom you enjoy beating me over the head with.”
“That’s the thing about us Devil Dogs. We never did get much subtlety training,” he said. “But I’ll give it a shot. I got three questions for you.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“First question,” he said. “Do you love her?”
“Of course I do. More than anything.”
“In that case, fatherly wisdom won’t do it,” he said. “Matthew, I could teach you how to shoot, how to live as a man, how to soldier, but when it comes to love I’m as dumb as the next guy, who’s as dumb as the guy next to him. Kind of like dominoes. Men are dumber than dirt when it comes to love.”
“So it’s hopeless.”
“No. You just have to learn to understand how women think.”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay. Good. Second question, then,” he said. “How many pairs of your shoes did Jett chew up before you got her to quit?”
I smiled. Jett was my favorite hunting dog, but she had a taste for shoes, especially the ones that smelled like me. “About a dozen.”
“But you didn’t get rid of her after she ruined two pairs. Or four pairs. Or ten.”
“Hell, no, I loved her, and I was determined to train her.”
“That’s how women think,” he said. “They love us, and they’re determined to train us.”
Now he had me laughing. “So what you’re saying is I just need to be housebroken.”
“According to your mom, we all do,” he said. “Last question. This business trip you’re on — what’s the degree of difficulty?”
“It was supposed to be a slam dunk, which is why I brought Katherine along,” I said. “But I have this aggressive competitor who would like to put me out of business. Permanently.”
“In that case, it’s time to beat you over the head with some professional advice. Snap out of it, boy. Put that girl out of your mind and focus on your business a hundred and ten percent. You can’t afford to be pining away like a lovesick puppy when you’ve got chips on the table. You hear that?”
“Yes, sir.”
He was right. As soon as Marta Krall found some dry clothes and a new gun, she’d come after me again. Being in a funk could get me killed.
“So, here’s the wrap-up, boy,” my father said. “You’re a man, so Katherine expects you to be as dumb as the rest of us. She’s a woman, so she’s hardwired to fix you, which means you’re going to get at least one more chance at redemption. Most important, if you don’t watch your ass on this trip, there ain’t ever gonna be any grandkids. And if that happens, your mama will blame it all on me.”
“Good advice, Dad,” I said. “I owe you one.”
“You can pay me back right now,” he said. “I know exactly where you are.”
I figured he would. The stationmaster’s announcements in the background were a dead giveaway.
“I’ve been there a dozen times,” he said. “There’s an old nun, Sister Philomena, sitting outside track seven. She used to be a mail drop for me. Put a hundred bucks, or whatever that new Italian money is, in her basket. Tell her it’s from Colorado.”
“Will do.”
“I don’t want to know where you’re going, but is there anybody you want me to give your regards to?” he said.
