Soul of the Assassin by Larry Bond & Jim Defelice

Soul of the Assassin by Larry Bond & Jim Defelice

Author:Larry Bond & Jim Defelice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2008-08-25T04:00:00+00:00


23

BOLOGNA, ITALY

Ferguson was having his own problems in Bologna.

Neither he nor Thera had been able to find where Rostislawitch had gone. He wasn’t in any of the small cafés and coffee bars within ten blocks of the hotel, nor had he gone over to the conference building early. Ferguson finally conceded to himself that they’d lost Rostislawitch, at least temporarily; he planted some fresh video bugs and booster units, then met Thera in a hotel restaurant near the art building.

“I’m sorry, Ferg. I’m really sorry,” she told him as he sat down. “I’m really sorry.”

“He’ll turn up. I’ve lost people before.”

“I checked the hotel. He’s still registered. I left him a message on his voice mail, saying he should call me.”

“Great.”

The waiter came over. Ferguson ordered a caffèllatte, then sat back in his seat, watching the people pass outside.

“The old guy really likes you, doesn’t he?” said Ferguson.

“He’s not that old.”

“So you like the mature type, huh?”

The waiter appeared with Ferguson’s coffee.

“He seems very nice,” said Thera.

“Sure, for a guy who’s perfecting ways to mass murder people,” said Ferguson, stirring his coffee.

“I didn’t say he was perfect.”

“Unlike me, huh?”

Thera flushed. “You’re always fooling around,” she said angrily.

The air drained abruptly from Ferguson’s lungs, as if he’d been punched in the stomach without any warning.

Oh, Christ, he realized, she loves me.

He tried to think of something to say, something to tell her—he wanted to say how he felt, but to temper it with reality, with their jobs and what was happening to him, the cancer, everything—but before he could think of what to say a face loomed in the crowd passing by the window.

“Rostislawitch,” hissed Thera. “He’s going to the conference.”

“Get over there,” said Ferg. “I’m right behind you.”

“Ferg—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go.”



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