Rules of Vengeance

50

The Hawker business jet touched down at Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport at 8:33 local time. Under a pale blue sky, the plane taxied to an isolated terminal at the southern border of the 200-acre airport complex. A squadron of police vehicles formed a semicircle near the jetway. Descending the stairs, Kate Ford shook hands with the chief of the Rome police and a lieutenant colonel who headed up the Rome detachment of the carabinieri, or federal police. After an exchange of formalities, she was updated on the manhunt for Jonathan Ransom.

Photographs of Ransom taken upon his arrest had been forwarded to all local precincts. Prints of the picture had been distributed to foot patrols walking Rome’s tourist areas-the Coliseum, the Forum, St. Peter’s and the Vatican. Word that he had been spotted inside city limits was likewise transmitted to rail and transport authorities at Rome’s four main train terminals. Police patrols were doubled at Leonardo da Vinci Airport, and at Ciampino, Rome’s smaller commuter airport, located along the Greater Ring Road 15 kilometers east of the city.

“Have you instituted any roadblocks or traffic checks?” asked Kate.

“It is summer,” explained the chief of police without apology. “Tourist season. Traffic is bad enough as it is. Without a confirmed sighting in a specific locale, there is nothing we can do.”

“I understand,” she responded, with a smile to smooth the waters. She motioned to the terminal. “Is the witness here?”

“Waiting inside. This way.”

Kate followed the lanky police captain up some stairs into the building. The airport lay on the coast, and the tang of sea salt and brine and the freshening breeze invigorated her. Reaching the door, she paused to gaze out at the blue expanse. Ransom was close. It was odd, but she could feel his presence, even sense his desperation. They were both ru

After leaving Thames House, Kate had stopped by her home long enough to shower, pick up a change of clothes, and brush her teeth before dashing to Heathrow. In between briefings from Graves and updates from the Italian police, she’d managed two hours of sleep on a couch at the rear of the cabin. Now a gust of wind threatened her hair, and she rushed to clamp a hand to it. The motion made her think of Pretty Ke

Inside the terminal, the group filed into an air-conditioned conference room. Dr. Luca Lazio sat alone at the head of the table, smoking furiously. Kate introduced herself. After establishing that Lazio spoke English fluently, she asked all officers except the chief of police to leave the room.

“That was a brave action you took, trying to stop Jonathan Ransom,” said Kate, choosing a seat next to him, sensing he was comfortable in the presence of women.

“Not brave. Necessary.”

“Weren’t you afraid he might harm you?”

Pleased by her proximity, Lazio shook his head much too confidently. “I know Ransom. He waved his gun around a little, but I didn’t think he would use it.”

Kate hadn’t expected Ransom to be armed. Strangely, she felt disappointed. “Even so,” she went on, continuing to play up to Lazio, “what prompted you to take such bold measures? Why not just help him and let him go?”

“I saw what happened in London. Isn’t that enough?”

Kate agreed that it was, though privately she thought there was more to it than that. “Did he admit his role in the bombing?”

“He said he had nothing to do with it. Of course he was lying.”

“And did he give you any idea where he was going?”

“None. Unfortunately, I didn’t see him depart from my office. When he discovered that I was trying to hurt him, he attacked me and I fell to the ground. He left me, I presume to find medicine to alleviate his allergic reaction. That was when I ran. You see, I’m not so brave after all.”

An aide appeared, carrying a tray of espressos, and handed them around. The captain and Lazio took considerable time adding sugar and cream, each taking the moment to light a fresh cigarette. Kate looked on, struggling to conceal her impatience.

“You said that Ransom sought you out in order to find out some information about his wife,” she asked. “Were you friends?”

“Not friends, but colleagues,” replied Lazio. “We worked together years ago in Africa. I suppose I was the only doctor he knew in Rome. He told me that his wife had been attacked and injured in the city sometime in April. I tracked her down to the Hospital San Carlo, where she was treated for a knife wound.”

This was the attack in April that Allam had mentioned. “Was it life-threatening?”

“Without question.” Lazio talked for a while about the nature of the injury, the surgery performed, and the time needed to recover. “It was not easy to find her,” he added. “She did not give her real name. Ransom said she was some type of secret agent or some nonsense. He had me check other names.”

“Do you remember them?”

“Kathleen O’Hara and Eva Kruger, but they were of no use. That’s the fu

“What was it?”

“Lara. Just Lara. She refused to provide a last name. For some reason this upset Jonathan.”

The police chief explained that they had no record of any stabbing or similar assault during that time period, and that he’d sent three men to the hospital to keep watch for Ransom in case he went there seeking more information. With a smile, Kate told him that she appreciated his actions, and then she returned her attention to Luca Lazio. “Did Ransom have any idea who had attacked his wife?”

“None at all,” said the Italian doctor. “He was very focused on finding her, and he was upset that I could not help more. If you ask me, he should be happy that she is alive at all. A woman who loses so much blood has no business surviving an hour’s ambulance ride to the hospital.”

“Is it normal to need one hour to reach a hospital in Rome?”

“Of course not,” said Lazio, offended. “But she wasn’t attacked in Rome.”

“Then where?”

“Up the coast. I can’t remember. It is written on the admittance sheet.”

“Do you have that with you?”

“Ransom took it.”

Kate ran a hand along the crease of her trousers. She’d done her homework on Lazio. Before landing, she’d reached Doctors Without Borders in Geneva and spoken with the woman who’d supervised the Eritrean mission where Lazio and Ransom had worked together. It took some prodding, but finally the woman had supplied some startling information about Lazio. The information went a long way to explaining why Lazio had probably been trying to kill Ransom with the overdose of penicillin, rather than merely render him unconscious. And why he was none too keen to see Ransom captured.

“You must have a copy on your computer,” said Kate. “If you’d like, we can check from here.” She stared into his eyes, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she knew all about him.

“Civitavecchia,” said Luca Lazio. “That is where the ambulance picked her up. That’s all I know.”

Ten minutes later, Kate Ford was seated in the front seat of an Alfa Romeo belonging to the carabinieri, speeding up the highway. The ambulance company had provided the address where Emma Ransom, or Lara, had been picked up. Via Porto 89. It also listed the nearest establishment. A place called the Hotel Rondo.

“The drive will take thirty minutes,” said the lieutenant colonel, a handsome olive-ski