Perhaps it was not the most organized assault in the history of Italian police work. Mainly because by the time they scaled the final steep rise and arrived at the cars, they were all puffing so hard none of them could shout a thing.
Edoardo leaned against the second car’s hood, tapped the windshield with his badge, and aimed down the length of his gun barrel.
Alessandro realized his friend was too winded to speak, so he did the honors. “Guardia di Finanza! Hands where we can see them! Remain absolutely still! You are surrounded!”
The astonishment on the faces inside the cars was almost comic. Clearly it must have seemed as though the officers had been fashioned from the impossibly brilliant sunlight.
Edoardo scrabbled at the door latch. The female officer did the same at the driver’s door of the first car. Adrenaline so fueled the young officers that for those inside the cars, it might have seemed as though they all moved in tandem. All the young officers began shrieking as loud as their winded bodies permitted. They yelled for the men inside to come out, keep their hands in the open, make no sudden moves.
Alessandro found it necessary to wipe his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. It appeared as though the four young officers were shouting whatever order came first into their heads. He was fairly certain one of them yelled that this was a one-way street. Thankfully, the men inside the cars knew the drill, undoubtedly better than the young officers. All but one emerged from the cars and assumed the position against the villa’s ancient walls. The remaining man made an extremely Italian suggestion to the female officer. She made sure he regretted it.
Edoardo supervised as the men were cuffed and one of the officers scampered downhill to fetch the police van. Then he turned to Alessandro and asked, “You are okay, old friend?”
“Apparently so.”
“No bullet holes anywhere?”
“I believe I might have noticed such a thing.”
“I’m not so sure about that, given your current mental state.”
“Guns make ever so much noise. I’m sure I would have heard.”
One of the thugs said, “You’ve no right to arrest us for sitting here enjoying the view.”
Edoardo turned to rebuke the man. But before he could speak, the young woman stepped over and snarled, “Did you hear anybody address you? No you did not.”
“This is harassment.”
She kicked his legs farther apart. “Shut up and take a good look at the wall. It’s the only view you’re going to have for the next ten years.”
Edoardo turned back around and lifted his eyebrows at Alessandro, who nodded agreement. The woman definitely had potential.
A shadow flitted across the road, a wraith slipping across a sunlit stage.
“Sir!”
The shadow became a youth. One Alessandro had seen before. The young man’s name was Julio, and he carried one of Alessandro’s appropriated air pistols.
Alessandro said, “Everything is fine, Officer Benedetti.”
Julio cast him a grin and a thumbs-up as he leapt through the gates.
“Sir, that man was armed with—”
“There was no man,” Edoardo growled. “And since there was no man, there was no weapon. Are we clear on that?”
The woman looked from Edoardo to Alessandro and back again. “Absolutely, sir.”
Edoardo actually smiled. “Officer Benedetti, have you ever thought of a career with the Guardia di Finanza?”