From the outside door of the upstairs loggia, Jason and Maria watched Momma’s departure until Jason checked his watch.
“We’re gonna have to move if we’re gonna make the hydrofoil. Momma might change her mind about letting us use the Gulfstream out of Naples.”
Maria took a long look around. “You plan on leaving today?”
“You heard what the lady said: whoever made the try this afternoon isn’t going to quit, and I’d just as soon not be home when they try again. Gianna can take care of the house as well as Pangloss and Robespierre. I’d suggest you start packing.”
“I’ve hardly unpacked.”
“So much the better, but you’d better add some warm clothes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to throw a few things into a suitcase.”
Once alone in the bedroom, Jason locked the door. If Maria tried to get in, he would have to think of an excuse. Kneeling before an eighteenth-century chest on a stand, he felt along the bottom until his fingers found what he was probing for. There was the sound of tearing tape and he sat back on his heels, unwrapping an oilskin package. The rich smell of Hoppe’s Elite Gun Oil filled his nostrils as he unwrapped his special double-edged knife in its special sheath with two straps, which he bound to his right leg just below the knee. Next, he gently unfolded the cloth from around a Glock 18 9 mm pistol and two extra clips, fully loaded. The gun was a version of the Glock 17 but with an automatic-fire option. With a thirty-three-shot double-stack clip, its firepower made up for the lack of accuracy of a barrel just short of four and a half inches. You could fill the air with a lot of lead very quickly.
Sliding back the action, he verified that the automatic already had a magazine in it. The gun went into a holster he clipped to his belt at the small of his back.
Momma was not all generosity. She knew better than to mention in front of Maria that use of her private aircraft meant not only convenience, but also an opportunity to carry weapons, a subtle way of telling him he might well need them. Hardly the peaceful intelligence gathering she had promised Maria.
Finally, Jason selected several CDs from a stack in a bedside table and placed them in a special container. He toyed with the idea of taking a few brushes and tubes of pigment before discarding the thought. No matter how alluring the possible subjects, he wouldn’t have the time to paint.
He stood, looking around the room. Three of his paintings hung on the walls, depicting various scenes of Isola d’Ischia. Over the bed hung a pair of capriccios he had picked up in Rome. Imaginary scenes of architectural landscapes, they had been popular decoration in eighteenth-century Italy. In unusually shaped frames, one depicted a view of what might have been the ruins of Venice had the city fallen into decay. The other was a fanciful view of ancient Rome, also in ruins as suggested by cattle grazing before the three remaining columns of the temple of Saturn, arbitrarily juxtaposed next to what might have been the Arch of Titus, which, in reality, was at the other end of the Forum. Both paintings were topped by a sky of the rose-tinted clouds that always adorned the genre.
He would miss this place, the slow pace of life and the vistas that seemed to leap onto his canvases. But he had known somewhere deep in his mind this day would come. It was the price demanded by his other life, the one that would not stay in the past. Now that his presence had been discovered by his enemies, there was no chance he could live there. Even if the terrorist group were destroyed, there were always others. Like the Hydra, as soon as one head was removed, two more appeared. Intolerance and hatred needed little nourishment to flourish.
He grinned grimly. He was one person who could do without the job security.
Stuffing only clothes that could be washed into a small handbag along with toiletries and an iPad, he took a final survey of the room, unlocked the door, and went out.
He was relieved Pangloss was not there as he and Maria drove through the gates for what he suspected would be the last time. He didn’t need the dog’s howling at being left behind no matter how earnestly Jason assured him of reunion.
He stood beside Maria at the stern of the hydrofoil as it rose out of the water and turned toward Naples. Wordlessly, he watched the craggy peaks of the island sink below the horizon just as so many places he had come to love had faded out of his life.