Sapphire by Sophie Lark

Author:Sophie Lark [Lark, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

13

Byron Black

Venice

“So?” Calcio said when Black came out of the interrogation room. “What did she tell you?”

“Not much,” Black said. “I’m gonna give her the night to stew about it. In the meantime, let’s track down Gallo.”

Calcio sighed. “That means I have to write up an actual arrest report and have her transferred to the holding cells.”

Black shrugged.

“Sorry,” he said. “She’s a professional thief. She’s not going to give up her prize that easy.”

“I miss being out in the field,” Calcio complained. “I’m just a bureaucrat now. You wouldn’t understand, working with those FBI cowboys.”

“Come with me to pick up Gallo, then,” Black said.

“I’d better,” Calcio said, “if only to keep an eye on you.”

They paused at the admitting desk so Calcio could sign them both out.

“You got a pen?” he asked Black.

Black felt inside his jacket.

“No,” he said, “I don’t.”

“I have one,” the clerk said, passing it across the counter to Calcio.

Black smiled a little to himself. Lex never disappointed.

But she wasn’t the only one who could be tricky. While she’d been nicking his pen, he’d been planting a bug on her. Fresh out of FBI dev tech: a tiny little tracking device, smaller than a grain of rice, and able to stick to anything, even a strand of hair.

His phone buzzed in his pocket—the Stockholm team, wondering where the hell he was. He ignored it.

“We can take a squad car,” Calcio said, “but you have to drive.”

Black got in on the left side of the car. He’d gotten used to driving that way, since most of the rest of Europe drove on the right side of the road. Still, Venice was a nightmare for cars, with its congested cobblestone-paved streets, its winding alleyways, and the likelihood of a canal showing up unexpectedly in front of your bumper.

Calcio was a good navigator, however. He directed Black through the labyrinth of streets, over to the southeast edge of the city where they thought Gallo was holed up.

They found him hiding in a flophouse, one of the many houses on that part of the lagoon that had so rotted away on their piling that they were expected to collapse at any moment.

Black could hear the creaking and groaning of the ancient building as they scaled the broken staircase.

“Careful,” Calcio muttered to him. “They didn’t build this place for a giant like you.”

Calcio had his gun out, but Black was unarmed, having chucked his weapon in the harbor. A rat scurried down the stairs. Calcio kicked it unceremoniously off the step.

They snuck up to the topmost floor, clearing each corner before proceeding.

All their stealth was for nothing. When they found Gallo, he was curled up on a pile of dirty old blankets, sound asleep.

Calcio kicked him with the toe of his boot.

“Wake up, you lazy shit,” he said, in Italian.

Gallo sputtered to life. With his scrawny frame and watery little eyes, he looked rather rat-like himself.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, squinting up at Calcio.

“Get up,” Calcio barked, completely out of patience.

Gallo scrambled to his feet.

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