Saints Astray
“Very good!” a jovial man said to Loup. “What are you studying?”
“Ahh… the Impressionists?”
He launched into a lengthy dissertation on Monet’s haystack series, in which Loup discovered that the easiest way to make polite conversation was to look interested, nod frequently, and make inquiring noises.
They got through the dinner without any incidents or mishaps. Pilar struggled with the European-style handling of the fork and knife Ms. Coxcombe insisted they learn, but managed to charm her dinner companions. Loup wielded her utensils adroitly, did a lot of listening and nodding, invented details about her fictitious home in Canada, and managed not to stare longingly at her dinner companions’ unfinished portions.
“Well?” Pilar said anxiously afterward. “Did we do okay?”
That got her the cautionary raised finger.
“Sorry! I’m nervous. Did we, um, manage not to embarrass you?”
“You did.” Ms. Coxcombe inclined her head. “Well done.”
In the morning, they came yawning down to the sunroom for breakfast to find a beaming Clive and a smiling Adelaide awaiting them.
“Hey,” Pilar said sleepily. “What’s on the schedule for today?”
“Not a blessed thing, sunshine,” Clive said.
“Huh?”
He tapped his watch, his grin widening. “Do you pay no attention to the date, girlie? That’s it. You’re done.”
“Seriously?” Loup asked, brightening.
Adelaide cleared her throat. “Mr. Lindberg, sir?”
Magnus Lindberg strode into the room with a white, toothy smile, Sabine gliding in his wake, carrying a briefcase. “Congratulations, ladies. You’ve passed the training phase, the both of you.” He made a subtle gesture to Sabine, who laid the briefcase on one of the tables and opened it, expressionless. He whipped out a pair of contracts. “As promised. It’s Global’s standard three-year contract. You’ll receive a ten thousand euro bonus just for signing.”
Loup eyed him. “Three years? That’s a long time.”
“It’s standard,” he assured her.
“Yeah, well, I’m not.”
Pilar scanned the text. “You’re only offering us a fifteen percent commission on the fees you get for us? That’s bullshit.” She tapped her Dataphone. “I’ve looked into this kind of thing.”
“We have a lot invested in you,” Magnus said smoothly. “And as you’ll note, it increases by five percent every year.”
“Don’t sign,” she advised Loup.
“I’m not.”
Sabine made an impatient sound.
“Oh, please!” Pilar said to her. “I bet you never sold yourself cheap.” She folded her arms. “One year. Twenty-five percent, with an increase negotiable at the time of renewal.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’ll barely recoup our investment in a year.”
“Well, you won’t recoup any of it if we don’t sign.”
Magnus raised his brows. “The pair of you barely have more than the clothes on your backs. You’d walk away from a ten thousand euro bonus?”
“There’s always bartending,” Pilar said philosophically. “Hey, Loup! You could totally get a job as a bouncer. We could work together.”
“True.”
“We really do not have time for this,” Sabine said through gritted teeth.
“Why not?” Loup cocked her head. “Something’s going on, isn’t it?”
Magnus and Sabine exchanged a glance. “We have a client with an unusual dilemma and a tight deadline,” he admitted. “She’s a relative of Vincenzo Picco’s and he recommended our services to her. Your services in particular,” he added to Pilar.
“Mine?” She looked startled.
Sabine looked disgusted.
“Indeed.” Magnus steepled his fingers. “If I agree to amend the contracts, can the two of you be ready to travel in an hour’s time?”
Loup glanced at Pilar, who nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good.” He noted and initialed the changes on the contracts, then handed over the pen, watching as both of them signed. “And a second set for your own records. Sabine, stop glaring. You’ll be working with them on this job; you might as well start getting used to the idea.”
“She will?” Pilar looked up in dismay. “You didn’t mention that before we signed.”
Magnus smiled. “No, I didn’t, did I?”
TWENTY
An hour later, they bade hurried farewells to Clive and Addie.
“Thanks so much,” Pilar said, hugging both of them. “I know it was really hard getting me through this. I’ll do my best to make you proud.”
“You already have, dear,” Adelaide said cheerfully.
“You take care of yourselves,” Clive added.
And then they were off to the airport, Sabine at the wheel.
“So, um, where are we going?” Loup asked from the backseat.
“Palermo, Sicily.” Magnus rested his head on the headrest. “All the information’s on the database in a file labeled Picco Wedding.”
“Shit!” Pilar turned on her Dataphone. “I mean, oh, dear. I’ve only got a plane ride to learn all about Palermo, Sicily?”
“No, no.” Magnus glanced back with a smile. “If the client approves, you won’t be an assistant on this job, Pilar.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ll be a bodyguard?”
Sabine snorted.
“You’ll be a wedding guest,” Magnus clarified. “And hopefully, an irresistible distraction. Read the dossier and I’ll let the client explain.”
They read in silence for a while.
“Feuding families?” Pilar whispered to Loup. “I bet this is so totally a Mafia thing. Wasn’t that where those guys in that movie were from? Sicily?”
“Yep.”
“Hey, Magnus? Do we do a lot of work for the Mafia?”
“We work with many wealthy clients. Some have more… interesting… connections than others,” he said without looking back. “I will ask you to keep any speculations to yourselves. In fact, I demand it.”
“Okay, okay!”
From the airport in Aberdeen, they flew through Amsterdam and Rome and arrived in Palermo in the early evening. The air was warm and balmy, the foliage lush and green.
“Nice.” Loup breathed deeply while Sabine negotiated with a taxi driver in fluent Italian. “Are we near the ocean? It smells like it.”
“It’s a port city, yes. Once, you would have smelled nothing but car exhaust, but the population is much smaller than it was. Although, in fact, I cannot say I smell the ocean.” Magnus gave her a curious look. “Are your senses keener than those of ordinary humans?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Don’t know, I mean. I’ve always had good hearing. I never thought about whether or not I could smell better than other people.”
“Interesting.”
“Little animal,” Sabine muttered under her breath, opening the door to the taxi.
In the cab, Pilar leaned over and growled softly in Loup’s ear, making her squirm and giggle. “What?” she said in defensive response to Sabine’s glare. “We’re not on the job yet, are we? And you’re the one called her a little animal.”
“You are insufferable.”
Pilar smiled sweetly at her. “Vincenzo Picco begs to differ.”
“Vincenzo Picco is a flamboyant idiot.”
“I kinda liked him,” Loup offered. “I mean, he yelled a lot, but he thanked us and gave us a nice tip.”
“No kinda, baby,” Pilar reminded her.
“Right. I rather liked him.”
“Dear God,” Magnus murmured. “If we do not get this job, I fear I may slit my throat. Sabine, not a word.”
She glowered.
The taxi deposited them at an opulent old hotel overlooking the harbor, surrounded by palm trees.
“Very good,” Magnus said once they’d checked in. “Perhaps we should meet…” He glanced at Sabine’s face. “Ah, perhaps not. I’ll leave you on your own for supper, shall I? We’ll meet in the lobby in the morning. Say, ten thirty? We have an eleven o’clock meeting with the client.” He beckoned to Sabine. “Their credit cards?”
She handed them over grudgingly.
“These are for job-related expenses.” He gave them each a card with the Global logo. “Meals and the like. And these…” He handed over two more. “These are for your personal accounts. Your bonus money.”
“Ten thousand euros,” Pilar breathed.
“Now you care,” Magnus said wryly.
“Well, yeah.” She smiled at Loup, tracing the glinting line of gold that circled her throat. “Guess I should’ve waited to buy you a necklace, baby.”
“No.” Loup shook her head. “This one’s special.”
Magnus cleared his throat. “So. On the morrow?”
“We’ll be there.”
After stashing their suitcases in the hotel room, they ventured out into the city, standing in line to gain admission to a small bistro on a narrow street at Pilar’s insistence.
“Holy shit!” Loup spooned up mouthful after mouthful of fresh pappardelle with shrimp and mushrooms. “This is so good. How’d you find this place?”
She looked smug. “Research. I know what Magnus said, but I figured I could use the practice.”
“You’re so good at it!”
“I’m not bad, huh?”
Loup’s spoon scraped an empty bowl. She looked at it sadly. “Think I could order another one?”
“Why not?”
Afterward, they wandered the city for a while, marveling at the illuminated nightscape of medieval cathedrals and ancient theaters.