Nick and Kate had dinner in their suite. Smoked red sea bream with a salty cinnamon brioche as an appetizer, followed by seaweed pasta with Venus clams, sea urchins, and chives as their entrée, and warm lemon cake with a lemon sorbet for dessert. They finished their meal with the obligatory icy shots of limoncello.
“The seaweed and sea urchins were okay,” Kate said, “but they’re never going to replace mac and cheese.”
Nick sat back and watched Kate. “No matter where you go, you are who you are. You’re willing to try new things but more often than not you return to your cultural roots. I like that about you.”
“And you’re the opposite,” Kate said. “You embrace your environment. You’re a human chameleon. It’s impressive, but sometimes I wonder if you’ve lost yourself. When you’re playing a role, are you standing on the outside looking in, or have you become that person and kicked Nick to the curb?”
“Some of both,” Nick said. “When I’m in a con I’m outside, looking in. When I’m in my French country house I’m enjoying that part of me.”
“And which one is the seaweed and sea urchin Nick?”
“I like them. I have an adventuresome palate.”
Kate thought his adventuresome palate was at least partly responsible for their new sexual relationship. Like seaweed and sea urchin, he would continue to enjoy her when their paths crossed, but she couldn’t see him settling for the monotony of monogamy. And she couldn’t see herself justifying the relationship once this assignment was completed. She had serious feelings for Nick, but in the end he was a felon and she was the FBI.
In the morning they showered, dressed, and went down to the lobby restaurant for breakfast on the wide terrace that jutted out over the cliff. The low stone wall along the edge of the terrace was adorned every few feet with marble busts of ripped men and voluptuous women. Perhaps the busts were an incentive, Kate thought, to encourage guests to take it easy at the buffet.
Nick selected a table facing west, giving them a view across the gorge to Sorrento, the bay, and the villas along the mountainous peninsula. Kate, being Nick’s bodyguard, sat with her back to the view, preferring to keep her eye on the hotel and anybody who came out to the terrace. She was the first to see Litija stroll toward them like she was on a fashion show runway. Litija was wearing a wide-brimmed red sun hat, enormous round sunglasses, a white skintight dress with bracelet sleeves and a very short skirt that Kate thought could use a couple more inches of material.
Litija came up behind Nick and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Nick, you devil. Who let you out?”
“She did.” Nick tipped his head to Kate and stood up to pull out a chair for Litija. “I’d be under lock and key if it wasn’t for Kate.”
“Proving once again that behind every great man is a resourceful woman,” Litija said, offering her hand to Kate as she sat down. “I am Litija.”
Kate shook her hand. “So, does this mean Dragan has you to thank for his success?”
“I wouldn’t be that presumptuous.” Litija smiled, plucked a grape from the fruit bowl, and popped it into her mouth. “He has lots of women. I’m just here having a little vacation after spending months in dreary Antwerp.”
“Will he be joining us?” Nick asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Litija said. “He can’t take the risk of being seen in public with you. You’re a wanted man.”
“So is he,” Nick said.
“But he didn’t just escape from Belgian police custody. You’re the most wanted man in Europe right now.”
“He put me in that situation.”
Litija took another grape. “That’s something you two can discuss at his villa. It’s beautiful, right on the coast. His boat is waiting to take us there.”
“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, based on the welcome we got last night,” Nick said.
“That was an unfortunate misunderstanding. Dragan is a careful man and all he wanted to do was invite you over for a drink,” Litija said. “His overly cautious approach can sometimes come across as unintentionally rude.”
“At least it was more polite than kidnapping Nick at gunpoint and shipping him overseas in a coffin,” Kate said.
“That’s true!” Litija laughed and wagged a finger at Kate. “I like the way you think. But I wouldn’t talk to Dragan like that. He doesn’t have a great sense of humor.”
“I’d really like to avoid another journey in a coffin, especially one that lasts an eternity,” Nick said. “That’s why I’d prefer meeting him in daylight in a public place.”
“You won’t be in any danger at Dragan’s villa,” Litija said. “If you’re worried, bring your weapons. You can have a gun in each hand and a knife in your teeth if that makes you feel better. Nobody will take them away from you.”
“I can guarantee that,” Kate said.
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Litija said, then turned back to Nick. “So, really, Dragan is the one who should be concerned about his safety, not you. What possible reason can you have for not accepting his invitation now?”
“None at all,” Nick said. “Shall we go?”
“He can wait.” Litija reached for a croissant. “I haven’t had breakfast and I love the sfogliatelle here. Have you ordered a bottle of champagne yet?”
“Coming right up,” Nick said, and waved to the waiter.
Kate didn’t know what the heck a sfogliatelle was but she suspected it would be expensive. And champagne. Ka-ching! She hoped there was a lot of space for itemizing on form HB7757Q.
Dragan’s fifty-foot open-air yacht was classically Italian in its styling, rich in polished mahogany and supple leather, with the sculpted lines of a sports car and the iconic aura of a movie star. The pilot and deckhand, nautically dressed in jaunty blue sailor caps and white Paul & Shark polos and shorts, were the two men that Nick and Kate had confronted the previous night. If the men held a grudge, they didn’t show it, though they definitely seemed uncomfortable in their uniforms.
Kate thought they looked like they were auditioning for jobs at Disney World, all suited up in Mr. Smee outfits.
The men seated Nick, Kate, and Litija on board, untethered the lines from the dock, and steered the boat out of the marina. They maneuvered past the anchored yachts and around the coming-and-going ferries that served Naples, Capri, and the resort towns further south along the Amalfi Coast.
“This is the scenic route to Dragan’s villa,” Litija said as they cruised past Marina Grande, a fishing village nestled in a cove below Sorrento. “It’s also the most direct. For centuries, the only way to get to his villa was by foot or by donkey. Can you see me on a donkey?”
They headed south on the choppy turquoise sea with the high jagged cliffs and rocky coves of the Sorrento peninsula on their left and the mountainous island of Capri on their right. The edge of the peninsula was largely undeveloped, covered in chestnut trees and scrub, too steep and rough in most places for anything but the occasional stone watchtower, a vestige of the time when pirates and invaders were a constant threat, and observers sent out smoke signals to warn of imminent attacks.
There was no doubt in Kate’s mind that one or two of the towers were still manned. Dragan’s men would be watching, sending back the modern-day version of a smoke signal alerting Dragan of anyone venturing into his territory.
The boat veered toward a sharp gorge. As they got closer, she could see that the gorge created a small cove hidden behind two tall rock formations that looked like stone fists rising up from the sea.
The water inside the cove was calm and lapped on a pebbled beach that gave way to a stacked rock sea wall and wooden dock. The ruins of an old village built in the bedrock reminded Kate of caves, and she was fascinated with the elaborate Moorish façades.
Above the village, she could see terraces and tunnels cut into the cliff face. Steep, winding steps led up to a large stone building on a craggy point. The building was an architectural Frankenstein that combined the ruins of a church, a fortress, and a villa with a long sea-facing terrace and battlements along the precipice. It would be a long walk up, and Kate was looking forward to seeing Litija attempt it in her five-inch stiletto heels.
Nick looked at the cliff face. “Chairlift?” he asked.
“Better than that,” Litija said. “There’s an elevator.”
She led them along the sea wall to one of the buildings embedded in the hillside. They took a few steps inside, where an elevator was cut into the rock. Litija pressed the call button, and the door slid open.
“This shaft has been here for centuries,” Litija said. “I can’t remember what for. There are all kinds of passages and shafts here. But Dragan stuck an elevator in this one, which is a good thing, because with these heels, I’d never be able to climb a thousand limestone steps.”
Damn, Kate thought. She’d been ready to race the bitch.
The three of them stepped into the elevator, which was large enough for six, and Kate thought it went up faster and smoother than the one in the Federal Building in Los Angeles. Apparently, international diamond thieves could afford better contractors than the U.S. government.
Kate brushed her jacket back and put her hand on her gun just in case there was an unwelcoming welcome committee. Litija noticed and smiled.
“A Glock 27. Nice. I prefer the Sig Sauer P239,” Litija said. “But there’s nowhere to hide it on this dress.”
“You could put it under your hat,” Kate said.
“That’s where I keep my garrote,” she said.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened onto the terrace. Kate was expecting a militaristic vibe, something in keeping with a fugitive criminal’s stronghold. What she saw instead could have been a five-star resort. There were a dozen chaise lounges facing the sea. A deep blue lap pool hugged the hillside and was fed by a little waterfall. A long arched colonnade draped in blooming bougainvillea led to the villa. Dragan Kovic, dressed in all black, looked out of place in his colorful surroundings.
Dragan stood at the edge of the terrace beside a mounted telescope aimed at Capri. He wore a linen Nehru jacket open over a silk T-shirt, skinny jeans, and loafers.
“Nick, it’s so good to see you,” Dragan said. “Congratulations on your remarkable escape, though I think you owe your inspiration to us.”
“If not my inspiration,” Nick said, “certainly my motivation.”
“Did you come here to kill me?”
“I’m not a killer,” Nick said.
Dragan looked over at Kate. “No, but I suspect she is.”
Kate had her eyes on the man beside Dragan. He looked like he’d shaved his face with an outboard motor and was regarding her as if she were livestock on an auction block.
“I can be,” Kate said. “If I’m provoked.”
Dragan followed her gaze. “Zarko and I will be on our best behavior.”
“I wish that had been your attitude on the diamond heist,” Nick said. “Instead, you double-crossed me, cheated me out of my share, and left me to take the fall.”
“I heard that you put yourself in that position,” Dragan said.
“How could I have possibly done that?”
“Zarko told me that you tried to escape with some diamonds while the men were preoccupied breaking open the safe-deposit boxes.”
“That’s what he did.” Zarko looked Nick in the eye as he lied. “So I put him down. He may have just been sneaking off, but I think it was more than that. He wanted payback for snatching him in Hawaii. He was going to slip away with some diamonds and trip a silent alarm so we’d get caught. If I hadn’t stopped him, your best men would be in jail and you’d be the humiliated victim of one of his famous cons.”
“Turning my own heist against me and walking away richer for it,” Dragan said. “That sounds like a trademark Nick Fox con to me.”
“I admit I wasn’t thrilled about being kidnapped, but I have too much pride in my work to sabotage a chance to pull off the biggest heist in Belgian history,” Nick said. “By breaking into that vault, I did something everybody thought was impossible. Having that feather in my cap is worth more to me than a pocket full of diamonds. More important, I would never double-cross my crew, even one that kidnapped me. I have my reputation to consider.”
Dragan glanced at Zarko. “He makes a good point.”
“Of course he does, he’s a con man,” Zarko said. “He’ll turn any situation to his advantage with fast talk. Look how he went from being your hostage to being a partner in the heist.”
Litija laughed and stretched out on a chaise lounge. “He’s got you there, Nick. That was slick.”
“There’s a lot to think about,” Dragan said. “But we’ll sort it out to everyone’s satisfaction before the day is done, I promise you. In the meantime, I hope you’ll make yourselves at home here at Villa Spintria.”
“Is this a brothel?” Nick asked.
Dragan cocked his head, clearly amused. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
“Because spintriae were ancient Roman coins that depicted an astonishing variety of sex acts and were used to pay prostitutes.”
“I’m impressed, though I suppose when it comes to money, even coinage as rare as spintriae, you would know about it,” Dragan said. “This place has been many things, including a monastery and a fortress. During the restoration of the property, barn, and orchards, we unearthed some spintriae. Perhaps they spilled from the pocket of a soldier or were a prized possession of a lecherous monk. We’ll never know.”
“They’re adorable,” Litija said, pulling a necklace from under her collar. There was a spintria coin dangling from the gold chain.
Adorable was not the adjective Kate would have used to describe the position, or the sex act, that the woman and two men were demonstrating on the coin.
Nick leaned down to Litija’s chest for a closer look at the coin. “If the U.S. Treasury put that on coins instead of dead presidents, coin collecting would become every boy’s favorite hobby.”
“What you may not know is that spintriae is also what Roman emperor Tiberius called the men and women he brought to his villa on Capri to pleasure him,” Dragan said. “Those who didn’t please him got tossed off a three-hundred-meter cliff to the sea. That spot became known as the Salto di Tiberio, the Tiberius Drop. You can see it from here. Come take a look.”
He patted the telescope, which was beside a squared opening in the low wall where a cannon once stood. The opening made Kate nervous, given the topic of Dragan’s little speech. But if Nick was concerned, he didn’t act that way. He walked up to the telescope and peered through it. Kate kept her hand on her gun, ready to shoot Dragan if he made a move on Nick.
“There’s not much to see,” Nick said. “Just some crumbling walls.”
“It was magnificent in its day,” Dragan said. “I wanted to re-create the splendor of his villa and his pursuit of pleasure, without the debauchery.”
Zarko snorted. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Dragan shoved Zarko over the wall.
The sudden, violent action took them all by surprise. One second Zarko was standing there, and the next he was gone. Litija bolted up from her chaise lounge in shock. Kate drew her gun out of reflex. Nick took a slight step back from the wall, but otherwise kept his calm.
No one was more surprised than Zarko, who was so astonished to be plunging to certain death that he didn’t start screaming until an instant before hitting the rocks below.
“But I did like the Tiberius Drop,” Dragan said in a matter-of-fact way. “So all of that considered, Villa Spintria seemed like a fitting name for this place. I hope that answers your question, Nick, and resolves some of our issues.”
Nick peeked over the edge at the rocks below. “It’s a step in the right direction.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Dragan said. He walked over to Litija, took her trembling hand in his own, then turned to Nick and Kate with a gracious smile. “Come with us. I’ll show you around.”
Dragan ignored Kate’s gun and strolled toward the flower-draped colonnade. Nick joined Kate and tapped her right arm.
“I think you can put that away now,” he whispered. “It’s impolite.”
Kate holstered the gun but kept her hand near it. “He just murdered a man in cold blood.”
“It’s a good sign,” Nick said.
“Because it wasn’t you?”
“It means he needs me more than he needed Zarko.”
“So we’re in,” Kate said. “But in for what?”