“Not great. They’re crying a lot—not that I should talk. Their other grandparents are better with them than me. I’m not a hugger. You know that.”
Marcus was actually touched by this self-aware version of Mickey. “They’re Italian,” Marcus said.
“That they are. Leukemia-wise, these girls are doing great. Dr. Spara says the drug he’s got them on is working. He’s going to let them leave the hospital on the medicine for two weeks. Then he’ll bring them back for bone marrow transplants. Turns out Armando’s the best match.”
“Lumaga told me you hired a security company.”
“Best in Europe. A bunch of ex-SAS guys in from the UK. They’re already fighting like cats and dogs with the Carabinieri. But fuck ’em. If Lumaga won’t let me leave the country with the kids, he’s going to have to put up with some hard-core bastards on my payroll. We’re decamping for Calabria as soon as the three of you are discharged. The girls want to travel with Uncle Marcus on the plane. Besides, Lumaga says you need protection too.”
“That’s bull.”
“Your professional opinion.”
“It is. Why do you want to go back down south?”
“Why not? Victoria and Elizabeth are comfortable in their old house. Armando and Leonora will move in along with both of us. I’ve had one of the VPs from the security company go down there to scope out the property and he says the cliffs and the long driveway to the road make it highly defensible. They’re not going to rely on the Carabinieri for anything but traffic control.”
“What about the rest of the entourage?”
“You mean Celeste and Colonel Carter? They’re coming too.”
Marcus took another sip from the flask. “Christ, Mickey, why?”
“I know you don’t like them, but I’m covering all the bases, okay? Celeste had a vision about Jesper yesterday. He was bathed in light, she said, standing in a remote forest. He was coming home.”
“Elena wasn’t in her vision?”
“Apparently not.”
“Do you think maybe that’s because she’s playing to you? An audience of one?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“You’re being selective about her visions, aren’t you? You’re willing to ignore her on the bone marrow transplants.”
Mickey put a hand through his thinning hair. “In my business—hell, in life—I’ve always played the risk-reward game. Bruno Spara is a world-class hematologist. Everything he’s said and recommended, I’ve gone back to my consultant in Chicago to see what she thinks. There’s not a millimeter of daylight between their opinions. So, I’m going with the scientists over the psychic on this one.”
“Thank goodness for that. And Carter? You don’t want to cut him loose?”
“He’s harmless and besides, he’s been working with this European UFO group, CUFOM, on sightings around the time Jesper and the girls were abducted and the time the girls returned. He seems to think there may be some credible leads. What do I have to lose? The price of a hotel room?”
“Don’t forget the cost of meals,” Marcus said. “That man can eat.”
*
The return flight to Reggio Calabria was crowded. Every seat of Mickey’s Gulfstream was filled, thanks to the presence of one shift of the British private security guards. Mickey chartered a second plane for the other two shifts of Brits. By popular demand, Marcus sat with the girls and their omnipresent board games. It was the first he’d seen them since the attack and they were noticeably subdued.
Victoria wanted to know why his arm was in a sling.
“The bad man poked me with something sharp,” was the most benign way he could think to put it.
“Does it hurt?”
“Of course, it hurts,” Elizabeth interjected.
“It only hurts a little now,” he said. Just about the last thing he could be accused of was having the sensitivity of a therapist, but he felt he ought to confront the obvious. “What happened in your room was scary.”
“Were you scared?” Victoria asked.
“I was very scared,” he said.
“I thought you were going to die,” Elizabeth said, playing with her hair.
“I did too,” he admitted.
“I’m glad you didn’t die,” Victoria said.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. “I’ve heard it helps to talk about scary things.”
“A lady came to talk to us,” Elizabeth told him. “She was nice. Did she talk to you?”
“No, I talked to your granddad, Mickey, and my friend, Roberto.”
“Oh,” Victoria said, setting up the pieces on the board. “Let’s play.”
Mickey was watching from his seat by the cockpit. He flashed Marcus a thumbs-up.
Later, when they were airborne, Marcus sidled back toward the lavatory and stopped to exchange pleasantries with Celeste and Carter who were sitting together. They had boarded before him and he hadn’t seen them since the incident.
“Good to see you’re on the mend,” Carter said. “I mean, what the hell, Marcus? This place is like the wild west. And in the shadow of the Vatican! But you’re one tough hombre, my friend. My hat is off to you.”
“The girls are bringing the crazies out, that’s for sure,” Marcus said. He pointed toward the musclemen aft. “It’s good that Mickey has the resources for these guys. I’m done playing Superman.”
“Well, when you’re up for it, I’ve got some interesting info for you from the CUFOM people.”
“Good,” he said unconvincingly. “Later.”
Celeste had been looking at him intently and she reached out to touch his hand. “I was so, so worried about you, Marcus. They wouldn’t allow me to see you.”
He told her he appreciated it, then added, “I understand from Mickey that your vision factory’s been busy.”
“It’s hardly a factory, Marcus,” she said. “My visions come to me spontaneously, wholly unlike the output of a factory. But yes, I had a vision about Jesper. I saw him in a remote forest, bathed in light. He said he was coming home.”
“Well, let’s hope you’re right,” Marcus said. “That would make his father extremely happy.”
His last few paces toward the lavatory were interrupted by a huge arm projecting from a bulging T-shirt.
“Just wanted to shake your hand, sir,” the man said in
