The Dante Conspiracy

CHAPTER 20



Just under two hours later they stopped looking. They’d checked every room, and every part of every room, even looking for false walls and hidden passages, and found absolutely nothing. They’d pulled every book off the shelves in the library, emptied every cupboard and looked in every wardrobe, and had failed to discover anything, any hiding place, that could conceal the ancient treasure which the Russian had told them had to be hidden there.

‘He’s got it wrong,’ Arrigo muttered in disgust, ‘just like he did with the cenotaph. That was a complete waste of time as well. He’s reading more into those bloody verses than is really there.’

‘You’re probably right. And we don’t even know if he’s right about the relic – what it is, I mean, or even if it exists at all. He’s got this theory, but we still don’t know if his interpretation is right.’

‘Well, his interpretation of where it was hidden has certainly been consistent,’ Arrigo growled. ‘Consistently wrong, I mean. Now, how the hell are we going to get out of here?’

‘Carefully,’ Bruno replied.

‘You reckon those guys are still out there?’

‘Probably. If it was me I would be, in the same situation. I’d wait outside as long as it took.’

‘I was afraid you’d say that. So how do we do it, without getting our heads blown off?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Bruno said, after a short pause. ‘We could wait for daylight, but there’s no guarantee the men outside wouldn’t still be there, waiting for us, so I think it would be better to try to get out while it’s still dark. At the very least, that would make us more difficult targets. And I’ve got an idea that might work. In fact, I’ve got two ideas.’



Ten minutes later, they’d shifted all the piled-up furniture from behind the thick wooden main door of the old house, the one that opened directly onto the street, but hadn’t released the internal bolts. Bruno had also placed a chair below one of the windows in the downstairs parlour, but had left the window locked. That would provide their last-ditch escape route, if everything went wrong.

‘I’ll go and get the old man,’ Arrigo said, pulling on his balaclava as he turned away and headed for the stairs.

Bruno was waiting by the street door, his own balaclava in place and the hall lights switched off, when his companion returned, the elderly man hobbling along in front of him, probably walking awkwardly because of the length of time he’d been tied up, still gagged and with his wrists lashed together. His glance darted nervously from Bruno to Arrigo and back again.

‘I’ve got some good news for you, old man,’ Bruno said, snapping open a switchblade knife, an action that made their captive shrink back in fear. Bruno took a step forward and sliced through the plastic ties around the man’s wrists with a single stroke. ‘You can go,’ he continued. ‘Just walk away. And I promise we won’t hurt you.’

Arrigo released the man’s gag, and for a few seconds the three of them stood in the moonlit gloom of the hallway in silence. Then the old man spoke.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘I don’t think you’ve taken anything, so you’re not burglars.

‘Who we are isn’t important,’ Bruno assured him. ‘Let’s just say we were looking for something that it turned out wasn’t here.’

He turned away and picked up a long dark-coloured overcoat he’d found and handed it to the old man.

‘It’s a little cool out there,’ he said, ‘so put this on.’

Then he slid open the two old steel bolts that secured the heavy door, released the catch and pulled it open about half a metre, just wide enough for the man to step through.

Again the old man glanced uncertainly from one to the other, then he stepped over to the door, pulled the coat tight around his body, took another look back at them, and eased through the gap.

As soon as he stepped outside, Bruno gave him a firm shove in the back, so that he stumbled forward, taking several rapid steps as he tried to keep his balance. Then he pushed the door almost closed, just leaving a narrow slit through which he could see the street outside.

Moments later there was a sound from outside like something dropping onto wet sand, a kind of heavy thud, the noise coming twice in quick succession, then another louder noise of something falling.

Bruno eased the door open just a fraction more. The elderly man, who they had presumed was the owner of the property, was clearly visible in the cold white light of the moon. He was lying face-down on the street perhaps four metres away, a dark pool – obviously blood – spreading out from under his body.

‘Pretty much what I expected,’ Bruno said, closing the door and sliding one of the bolts back into place. ‘These guys obviously don’t mess about. Now let’s liven things up a bit.’

He took the Beretta out of the waistband of his trousers, unscrewed the suppressor and slid it into his pocket. He clicked off the safety catch, gestured for Arrigo to release the bolt on the door and opened it slightly, then stuck his hand through the narrow gap and pulled the trigger of his weapon three times, aiming the pistol in the general direction from which he thought the shots had come.

The three crashing explosions echoed back and forth from the surrounding houses, a triple assault on the quiet of the morning.

‘That should wake everybody up,’ Bruno muttered, ‘and show them that we’ve got teeth.’

Arrigo slammed the door shut and slid the two bolts back into place.

The two men walked slowly through into the parlour, taking their time. Bruno re-attached the suppressor to his Beretta as they did so. He climbed up onto the chair, released the catch and opened the window wide, pushing it back against the frame.

They waited there, pistols aimed at the dark opening above them as they listened intently. They weren’t really worried about the men outside climbing up through the window, because it was too high off the ground for that, but they were hoping to hear the sound of them running away.

After about five minutes, they heard the sound of a siren in the distance, getting closer. Bruno climbed up again and looked out cautiously, risking the briefest of glances in each direction down the narrow alley which ran beside that part of the house.

‘I don’t see anything,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s go for it, before the cops arrive to break up the party.’

Holding the pistol by the barrel, to ensure that there wouldn’t be an accidental discharge, he swung his legs over the window sill and dropped down into the alley. The moment his feet touched the ground, he grasped his Beretta and aimed the weapon towards the junction of the alley with the main street, because that was where the threat most probably lay.

Then he glanced up as Arrigo started to follow him out of the window.