Page 16 of No Stone Unturned

I felt a lump in my throat. There was family. There were friends, and there were friends who became family. Basia was my family in that way. “If I’m successful in tracking down the sender of the package, I may need your help translating documents or emails from Italian.”

“Well, I’m your girl. Italian happens to be one of my favorite languages, after French.”

“Thanks, Basia.” Emotion hit me again. “You’re the best friend ever.”

“And now I’m your neighbor.” She held up her wineglass, smiling. “So, let the fun begin.”

Chapter Twelve

Slash

Someone brushed up against him as he walked into the restaurant, and before he realized what he was doing, Slash pivoted slightly to his right, instinctively slipping his hand beneath his jacket for a gun he didn’t have.

“Mi scusi.” A middle-aged man threw the phrase over his shoulder as he herded two young girls, probably twins, into the restaurant where he joined a brown-haired woman who was already seated at a table.

He slowly removed his hand from beneath his jacket and forced himself to relax. Lack of sleep and food were putting him on edge. He needed to settle down, refuel and refocus. Jumping at shadows was not helpful. Situational awareness was key, and his thoughts were distracting him far too much lately.

He’d arrived at the restaurant before Tito, so he requested a table in the back of the room. He took a seat facing all exits so he could see who was coming and going, and who might be paying undue attention to him.

Hot, he removed his sports coat, revealing a white shirt with no shoulder holster. If there had been a problem at the restaurant entrance, he wouldn’t have solved it with a gun. He felt naked without it, but he had plenty of weapons stashed in various places around town and could easily get to them, as needed. Right now, he was on an information-gathering assignment only.

He ordered a coffee and a glass ofGattinara, a full-blooded red wine, dry and crisp as hell. The coffee came before the wine and the first sip relaxed him immediately.

Tito arrived less than five minutes later. He was tall, with his brown hair close to his scalp in a military cut. Dressed casually in a pair of khaki shorts, a green T-shirt and sandals. He spotted Slash and strode over for a hug and a handshake.

“Good to see you, Nico. What brings you to our side of the world?” He spoke in Italian as a courtesy, but he answered him in Tito’s native German. It was safer in the unlikely event of eavesdropping, but it also gave the impression they were tourists. Blending in was always advantageous.

“Figured it had been too long since we had a drink together,” he said.

Tito laughed. “Yah, it really has.”

They sat and he waved over the waitress to take Tito’s order. Tito ordered a glass of white wine and they perused their menus. When the waitress returned with the wine, Tito ordered theravioli di capesante, a thick ravioli made with scallops, and a lettuce pesto. Slash chose thebaccalà, a salt cod, and thefiori di zucca, zucchini flowers. When they were left alone, Tito leaned forward, regarding his friend across the table.

“So, what brings you to Italy, old friend?”

“Personal business.” Slash sipped his wine, enjoying the bold taste. “So, how’s work?”

Tito Blickensdefer was a Swiss citizen, a good friend and a member of the Swiss Guard, the personal bodyguards of the pope. As a guard, Tito was stationed at the Vatican and sometimes did the changing-of-the-guard thing with high-stepping and fanfare every hour on the hour. However, what many peopledidn’tknow was that the Swiss Guard also traveled with the pope in plain clothes to protect him from security threats. While they’d been trained for centuries to use ahalberd—a combination of pike, ax and spear—the guardsmen were also experts at hand-to-hand combat and could adeptly use machine guns and Sig Sauer 9mm pistols. Tito was a regular on the pope’s security detail.

Tito picked up his glass of wine and swirled the contents around. “My time is, unfortunately, limited. I turn thirty next month.”

Swiss Guards could be no more than thirty years of age, so Tito would have to head home unless he decided to stay and find work in Italy.

Slash smiled and lifted his glass. “Then I wish you a Happy Birthday early. Many good returns.”

“It’s been a ride.” Tito clinked their glasses together. “Now I’m trying to decide what else to do with my life. Being a Swiss Guard is all I’ve ever known.”

“What are your options?”

“Police, military intelligence, counterintelligence or maybe surveillance. I need to give it some more thought.”

“You’d be good at any of those. It’s a new chapter in your life.”

“It really is.”

They talked a bit more about Tito’s discharge from the Swiss Guard until the waitress brought their food.

Tito leaned forward, wagging a piece of ravioli on his fork. “So, how’s our girl?”

---