White Shotgun

“Ma, why Ana?”

“She must have something they want. Isn’t that the way it goes?”

Martini looks doubtful. “That makes no sense to me. He could find you out of so many people?”

“He could if he were following me.”

“No, no,” Martini says, shaking her head. “If we are to have an incident at Palio — and it’s very, very rare — it is a result of high emotion and too much wine and no sleeping. No one stops to think, to plan this out. You were unlucky and got in front of the train.”

Dennis sits forward in the plastic seat, elbows on knees, his face in hers.

“I am here to represent the United States government in an official capacity. We understand the FBI is in this country at the invitation of the Italian government, and we can’t do anything without your permission. That is why we must ask for the Commissario’s help. One of our federal agents has been attacked in your town. Maybe it was random. But her nephew was stabbed, and three days ago her sister was abducted right out of a church. That’s bold, don’t you think, Inspector Martini?”

“I agree, and I am sorry that it happened in the beautiful city of Siena.”

Dennis shrugs. “It happens in Milan, it happens in Calabria … We are disturbed about what happened to our agent, Inspector, just as you would be if a police officer from Siena was attacked in New York City. Listen, I myself am Italian American.”

He smacks himself in the chest and says something in their language that makes Martini relax a bit and nod.

“Family doesn’t stop at the ocean. Agent Grey, an American citizen, is worried about her family living in Italy, and rightfully so.” He inches closer to make a point: “Our concern is that Agent Grey could be the intended victim of a multiple kidnap scheme, in which her sister was the first to be taken.”

Martini considers this and makes a decision. “You should know the Commissario considers the abduction a priority. I am authorized to tell you that we have started an investigation to find Cecilia Nicosa.”

“Brava!” Dennis leans back. I can see that he’s sweating. “That’s great.”

She reads from the pad, translating unevenly from her notes: “ ‘The following effects will take place in the disappearance of Cecilia Nicosa. One. To check all video cameras in Siena, most important, near the church of Santa Maria di Provenzano especially. Two. To interview any people who see her in the church or afterward, especially the church officials and the police officers.’ ”

“What have you gotten so far?”

She folds her hands. “We start this afternoon.”

“You haven’t even begun? She’s been gone three days.”

“During Palio, we have no police to spare. But now we will put our full strength behind this.”

“Va bene,” says Dennis, suddenly cheerful. “I expect you’ll make good progress.” He looks at his watch. “I believe I can still catch the eleven-fifteen train back to Rome. Do I have your word you will tell the Commissario what I said, about our fears for our agent?”

“Yes, you have my word,” Inspector Martini answers solemnly, and they shake hands.

We are down the worn front steps and striding past the museum to the car. It is heading toward noon, and the heat is scorching. Disappointment sweeps over us like a hot wind off a garbage dump.

“Explain that to me,” I say.

We stand on opposite sides of the car. The roof is so low even I can look over it.

“They blew us off!” I go on. “First of all, the Commissario is not in Florence, he’s ducking us, and second, why did you run out of there?”

“The meeting was over,” Dennis says. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No!”

I have unlocked the car, but you can’t touch anything inside. We leave the doors open to let it air out. I have a pounding headache, and the wound in my hand is on fire. The pills are in my bag, but I don’t want to take one in front of Dennis. Three thousand miles away from Bureau headquarters, the rules are the same: Never show weakness.

“It’s how it works,” he says, as we each remove our suit jackets. “You’ve worked undercover; you’ve dealt with intrigue and deception. Well, in Italy you’ll get your master’s degree. Nothing is what you think it is, or are trained to perceive from an American analog. You think you have the point of view, but you end up a hundred and eighty degrees wrong. What people are saying is decided by a person behind them. Martini was the eyes and ears for the chief. When she opened up about the investigation, that was the give.” He snaps his fingers. “They’re on it.”

“A six-year-old could come up with a better plan.”

We get in the car.

“This morning’s exercise had nothing to do with finding Cecilia. We propose a meeting. The purpose is to get their cooperation. They agree. But it’s not the Commissario telling us what he thinks about finding Cecilia. It’s to see if he wants to sit down for a meeting. It’s high school politics.”

“We don’t have time for this. Seventy-two hours, Dennis. That’s the cutoff point, when the trail goes cold.”

“You can’t apply your normal experience over here. We just have to let it unwind. Are we going to make the train?”

“Yes, we will make the train.”

We are cruising downhill. It’s a lot easier, with all the traffic heading the other way. I want to unload the headache and everything else I’ve been keeping inside.

“Dennis, I have to tell you something. Cecilia and the Commissario had an affair. Apparently in retaliation for Nicosa’s fucking around.”

“Did she tell you this?”

“Town gossip.”

Dennis squints through the Ray-Bans. “What’s the source?”

“An expat British bartender. Does that change the picture?”

“The picture is the picture. She’s still gone.”

We pull up at the station with two minutes to spare. Dennis gets out of the car and lifts his briefcase.

“I believe the threat to you is real. Two to one the bad guys know you’re Bureau, which makes you valuable. You’d be a major chip.”

“Nicosa knows I’m Bureau.”

“He made you?” Dennis asks.

“He didn’t make me.”

“Then how did he find out?”

“Cecilia told him. They were having a fight about Giovanni, and she let it drop.”

Dennis stares at me through the aviator glasses. His entire face is red.

“Do you think the man who attacked you in the Campo might have been hired by your brother-in-law because you are FBI, and he would rather you didn’t find out what he’s up to?” Dennis says.

“I don’t know! How could I know?”

“Do you think you can continue in your present role?”

“Yes, I do. We play it openly, that’s all. I’m inside the house. I can still be valuable.”

“Turn around and drive to the abbey. Take all precautions with Nicosa. Do not leave again until I call you. Got it?”

He slams the door. The train is coming.

As soon as Dennis is gone I swallow two pain pills with water from a bottle that has been in the car an hour and is therefore hot enough to brew tea, and call Mike Donnato in Los Angeles. After one ring I remember it is three in the morning in Los Angeles, but he has already picked up.

“I’m sorry, Mike. Go back to sleep.”

“What’s up?”