Read Online Blue Moonlight by Vincent Zandri - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vincent Zandri
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a resounding slam. A heavy-duty deadbolt engages. Reminds me of a prison lockdown.
I follow Francesco down another narrow corridor to an open room that serves as his office. There’s a desk that sits in front of a terrace and balcony separated from the interior with two slim french doors. The doors are open. Mounted on the plaster wall to my right is a giant map of Florence. Beside that, another giant map of the Italian boot. Beside that, a map of the globe.Under the maps, running the length of the wall, is a counter that holds an automatic espresso machine. I begin to salivate just looking at it. Moonlight the exhausted.
To my left is a bathroom. Mounted to the wall above the bathroom door, a security camera. I look into the camera, and my contact notices me looking into it.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not on right now.”
“Why’s it there, then?”
He cocks his head over his shoulder. “On occasion we have…let’s call them ‘guests’…who do not come as highly recommended as you.”
I get the distinct feeling the FBI and Interpol are not this man’s only clients.
We stand in weighted silence for a moment, until he suddenly holds out his hand. “But where are my manners?” he offers. “I am Francesco, owner of Il Ghiro. Do you know what Il Ghiro means, Mr. Moonlight?”
The only thing I feel more stupid at than trying to speak Italian is trying to translate it. I shake my head while setting my pack down against the map wall, but keeping the leather shoulder bag slung to my shoulder.
“It means to sleep like a church mouse,” he goes on. “Or, in your case, to sleep like a church mouse while seeking out rats.” He belly laughs and pats my back.
“Cloak and dagger,” I repeat.
“But you must be tired. Would you like an espresso?”
I tell him I’d love one, or three. Is it possible we can mainline the caffeine directly into my veins?
“
Bene, bene.
”
He goes to the machine, sets a demi glass beneath the spot, and hits a red button on the side. Almost immediately a streamof steaming hot black coffee begins pouring into the cup. When it’s through he hands the cup to me and fixes one for himself. There’s a couple of wood stools set against the counter. He gestures for me to take a load off. Which I gladly do. Instead of seating himself behind the desk, he takes the other stool and sits.
For a brief moment we sit quietly and sip the hot coffee.
Then, after a couple more silent beats, he gets to it.
“As I am to understand, Mr. Moonlight,” he says, “I will be providing you not only with lodging, but I will be your contact here for everything you need in support of your mission.”
I drink down my coffee, feel the sudden but good caffeine rush. “You’re aware of the details?”
“They tell me what I need to know. Such as, I know you are after a man, an American, who goes by the name of Dennis Clyne. Clyne possesses a data storage drive that contains information sensitive to the national security of the US and Europe, if not the world. Joining him in this venture is another man, an FBI man, by the name of Barter. Neither man has bothered to change his name, probably knowing that such a move is useless and very, how you say?”
“Cloak and dagger.”
“
Si
, cloak and dagger.” Then he says, “And joining Mr. Barter is—and this is difficult for me to say—your ex-lover, Dr. Lola Ross.”
I feel the usual stomach drop when I hear her name spoken out loud.
He adds, “We have reason to believe Ross is being held against her will, in that she fears physical reprisal should she decide to leave Barter. It will be your job to infiltrate her world and get her to trust you with the location of the storage drive.”
“Maybe I can get her to fall back in love with me while I’m at it.”
“Ah yes,” he says, his eyes lighting up.
“This is romantic Italy, am I right?”
“
Eco!
” he barks, patting my shoulder again. “I will help you with your love
I follow Francesco down another narrow corridor to an open room that serves as his office. There’s a desk that sits in front of a terrace and balcony separated from the interior with two slim french doors. The doors are open. Mounted on the plaster wall to my right is a giant map of Florence. Beside that, another giant map of the Italian boot. Beside that, a map of the globe.Under the maps, running the length of the wall, is a counter that holds an automatic espresso machine. I begin to salivate just looking at it. Moonlight the exhausted.
To my left is a bathroom. Mounted to the wall above the bathroom door, a security camera. I look into the camera, and my contact notices me looking into it.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s not on right now.”
“Why’s it there, then?”
He cocks his head over his shoulder. “On occasion we have…let’s call them ‘guests’…who do not come as highly recommended as you.”
I get the distinct feeling the FBI and Interpol are not this man’s only clients.
We stand in weighted silence for a moment, until he suddenly holds out his hand. “But where are my manners?” he offers. “I am Francesco, owner of Il Ghiro. Do you know what Il Ghiro means, Mr. Moonlight?”
The only thing I feel more stupid at than trying to speak Italian is trying to translate it. I shake my head while setting my pack down against the map wall, but keeping the leather shoulder bag slung to my shoulder.
“It means to sleep like a church mouse,” he goes on. “Or, in your case, to sleep like a church mouse while seeking out rats.” He belly laughs and pats my back.
“Cloak and dagger,” I repeat.
“But you must be tired. Would you like an espresso?”
I tell him I’d love one, or three. Is it possible we can mainline the caffeine directly into my veins?
“
Bene, bene.
”
He goes to the machine, sets a demi glass beneath the spot, and hits a red button on the side. Almost immediately a streamof steaming hot black coffee begins pouring into the cup. When it’s through he hands the cup to me and fixes one for himself. There’s a couple of wood stools set against the counter. He gestures for me to take a load off. Which I gladly do. Instead of seating himself behind the desk, he takes the other stool and sits.
For a brief moment we sit quietly and sip the hot coffee.
Then, after a couple more silent beats, he gets to it.
“As I am to understand, Mr. Moonlight,” he says, “I will be providing you not only with lodging, but I will be your contact here for everything you need in support of your mission.”
I drink down my coffee, feel the sudden but good caffeine rush. “You’re aware of the details?”
“They tell me what I need to know. Such as, I know you are after a man, an American, who goes by the name of Dennis Clyne. Clyne possesses a data storage drive that contains information sensitive to the national security of the US and Europe, if not the world. Joining him in this venture is another man, an FBI man, by the name of Barter. Neither man has bothered to change his name, probably knowing that such a move is useless and very, how you say?”
“Cloak and dagger.”
“
Si
, cloak and dagger.” Then he says, “And joining Mr. Barter is—and this is difficult for me to say—your ex-lover, Dr. Lola Ross.”
I feel the usual stomach drop when I hear her name spoken out loud.
He adds, “We have reason to believe Ross is being held against her will, in that she fears physical reprisal should she decide to leave Barter. It will be your job to infiltrate her world and get her to trust you with the location of the storage drive.”
“Maybe I can get her to fall back in love with me while I’m at it.”
“Ah yes,” he says, his eyes lighting up.
“This is romantic Italy, am I right?”
“
Eco!
” he barks, patting my shoulder again. “I will help you with your love
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