Chapter Seventeen

 

 

December 17

Café Mondadori

Rome, Italy

 

“They’ve followed you!”

“Uh . . . what?” Bianchi gave Justin a blank look.

“The old couple sitting across from us. The woman with the blue coat and—”

“Yes, yes, what about them?”

“They know who I am.” Justin slipped Bianchi the piece of paper and sat across from him. “How did this happen?”

Bianchi glanced at the paper, then back at Justin. “They followed you.”

“Impossible. I double-, no, triple-checked. There was no tail.”

Bianchi shrugged. “Then someone on your team gave you up.”

Justin thought about it for a moment. “No, that’s impossible.”

“You keep saying that word, but I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

“Don’t be smart with me and quote movies now.”

“Well, it’s possible someone followed or betrayed you.”

“The same can be said for you.”

Bianchi shook his head. “No, I wasn’t followed. I know this place. I’ve lived here for over two years. I have my cup of coffee here almost every day.”

“Who knew about us meeting here?”

“My boss, but he’s not the traitor.”

“Who else?”

“No one else. That’s what my boss told me, and that’s our protocol. I’m the only one who needed to know.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Justin, don’t insult me.”

Justin nodded. “All right, but somehow we’re being tracked. And I don’t like it. Whoever it is, it’s not good news.”

Bianchi tapped the piece of paper. “Maybe we can identify the handwriting.”

“I doubt it. But it’s worth a try. Along with their descriptions, perhaps we can find them.”

Bianchi lifted a small piece of cake with his fork.

“How can you eat with all this happening around us?”

“What, let good cake go to waste? Relax, Justin. Surveillance happens, but life goes on. So they know we met, but they don’t know why. They didn’t hear our conversation. They’re suspicious, I’ll give them that. We need to be more careful.” Bianchi shrugged.

Justin sighed and shook his head. “I have to go, but we’ll keep in touch.” He reached for the piece of paper.

“Let me take a picture of that.” Bianchi pulled out his phone.

When he was done, Justin stood up. “I’ll talk to the barman about the old couple. He took a good look at the man when he ordered his drinks.” He glanced around the café. “Maybe they also saw or heard something.” He gestured at the other patrons.

“How about I talk to them?”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Bianchi scooped up the last of the cake crumbs. “Don’t worry, Justin. We’ll find them.”

Justin sighed. Every time I hear someone say “Don’t worry,” that worries me.