Page 116 of The Medici Return

Cardinal Ascolani’s ball-bearing-like eyes took on a metallic sheen and beamed with the confidence of a cold heart.

Which momentarily frightened him.

COTTON ENTERED THEHOTELDUOMO AND APPROACHED THEreception desk, staffed by a younger man.

Stefano had headed off into the piazza. He liked the young priest. He seemed like a decent man who’d taken a huge chance coming to Stamm. He’d listened last night as Stefano explained all that he’d seen and suspected. The priest had a good pair of eyes and ears. Which every good intelligence officer needed. Clearly, Cardinal Ascolani was heavily involved in something that was most certainly illegal. Stamm had made clear that Thomas Dewberry had never been used to carry out extortion or the killing of a prelate. That would have been unthinkable. Having a man like Thomas Dewberry nearby? That was nothing short of dangerous.

This whole thing was drifting out of control.

“How many rooms on the fourth floor?” he asked the hotel clerk in Italian.

“Ten.”

Outside he’d counted twenty windows in a row. “Two windows to a room?”

The clerk nodded.

He again visualized the hotel’s exterior in his mind and did the math, determining that the window had opened in the eighth room. He then glanced behind the clerk and saw the cubbies for each room. “Who is in Room 408?”

The look on the clerk’s face seemed to signal that there was going to be no response. He fished a one-hundred-euro note from his pocket and handed it over. The younger man accepted the offering and said, “No one. It is empty.”

Now he knew why the guy had so easily taken his money.

“Why is there no key?” he asked, pointing to the cubby.

The clerk had no reply and just shrugged.

Room 408 was not empty.

Somebody had opened the window.

But was it a threat?

THOMAS KEPT HIS RIGHT EYE PRESSED TO THE RIFLE’S SCOPE, FINGER ONthe trigger. He could tick off two shots in a matter of a few seconds. The high-powered rounds would then do the rest of the work. Just make it a solid smack in the chest. Which was no problem. The target was brightly lit and easy to center. The next signal would be to fire.

But the two men were still talking.

No matter.

He was ready.

COTTON CLIMBED THE STAIRS TWO AT A TIME AND FOUND THE FOURTHfloor. He’d passed no other guests and there were no cleaning carts in the corridor before him. He’d thought perhaps Room 408 was being serviced, but that did not appear to be the case. He was notsure of anything, except that he had a bad feeling. He reached back and found the Beretta, keeping it down at his side, shielding it with his leg, finger on the trigger. The hardwood flooring beneath the runner creaked with each step as he navigated the narrow hall. His senses were on full alert, listening for anything unusual.

He stopped to the side of the door.

For Room 408.

JASON’S GAZE RAKED THE PIAZZA, SEARCHING FORASCOLANI.Malone and Father Giumenta were here. He knew they’d told him to stay back.

No way.

He spotted Ascolani, standing with Casaburi. Fifty meters away. Enough. He was a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church. Held in high esteem. Respected. Time to start acting like one.

He marched toward them.

ERIC WAS DONE WITH THIS ENCOUNTER.

A waste of time. Nothing was being accomplished. So he said to Ascolani, “We will wait until I present the pledge to the church for payment, then we can debate the legalities. Here is not the time or place.”

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