“And obituaries are sent to the newspapers by family members,” I added. “By making reference to Lilian, Galina is definitely sending a message. We know she’s alive and she knows that we know.”
“And she wants us to know that she knows that we know,” Natalie put in.
“Natalie, this is not the time to be a smart-ass,” Mary Alice said shortly.
“I can’t think of a better one,” I said. Natalie blew me a kiss.
“So, what’s the plan?” Helen asked. “Stake out the opera house until Galina shows up?”
“That could take days, maybe weeks,” Mary Alice said, looking around the table. “That’s a long time—too long.” We all knew what she was getting at. The longer we spent surveilling Galina, the likelier it was she’d spot us. If that happened, it was only a matter of time before she managed to kill us—or worse, Akiko or Taverner or Minka. Avoiding collateral damage was the Museum’s first rule and one we took seriously.
“We have to draw her out,” Helen said. “But how?”
We were silent for a while, each of us ruminating in our own way. Natalie folded her napkin into a series of animals—the rabbit was my particular favorite—while Helen arranged the condiment bowls and salt and pepper into rigid rows. Mary Alice scribbled in her notebook, jotting ideas and scratching them out just as quickly. Akiko busied herself doing the dishes, and Minka headed to her room, probably to play video games. I went to the window to light a cigarette and blow smoke out into the campo. Night had fallen and the little boys with their soccer balls had been summoned to dinner. The bars and restaurants were gently buzzing with customers wrapped up against the chill, settled under glowing heaters and enjoying their Aperol spritzes.
“Wolfgang,” I said suddenly. I stubbed out my cigarette and came back to the table.
“I thought of that too,” Mary Alice said as Akiko joined us, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “But how?”
“We blackmail him into helping us.”
Nat let out a sharp bark of laughter. “We’re killers, not blackmailers.”
“So?” I raised a brow at her. I never could manage it as well as Taverner, but I’d been practicing.
“We’d have to get information on him in order to blackmail him,” Mary Alice said. “How do we even know there are skeletons rattling around in his closet? He might be clean.”
“There are two kinds of blackmail,” I reminded her. “The kind where you’ve got something nasty to hide and you pay to keep it secret.”
“And the other?” Akiko asked.
“The kind where you’re forced to do something because of the consequences if you don’t.”
“I think that’s technically extortion,” Natalie said, frowning.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Schuyler,” I replied.
“It’s a step down,” Helen said slowly. “It feels grubby.”
“Itisgrubby,” I told her. “But it’s also efficient. Every day we lose waiting around to find Galina is another day we’re in danger. All of us,” I said with a meaningful nod towards Akiko. She looked startled, and reached for Mary Alice’s hand. I went on. “Galina’s been calling the shots up until now. I say we take charge and play offense for a while.”
“It is better than waiting around,” Natalie agreed.
Helen still looked dubious. “I’m not sure I like the idea of threatening a bystander with violence.”
“Violence? Jesus, Helen, I’m not talking about pistol-whipping the guy,” I told her. “I only meant we should scare him.” I held up Natalie’s phone with Aunt Evgenia’s obituary still front and center. “We show him this and let him know what his girlfriend is capable of.”
She considered this. “We would have to find him,” Helen said, but I could tell her objections were faltering. “It could still take a while.”
“A day or so is all we need,” I promised.
“Well, then,” Natalie said, raising her glass. “To our first foray into extortion.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was a pleasant day,warmer than expected, and as we climbed the Accademia bridge, the sun made an appearance, glittering on the wide green curve of the Grand Canal.
“God, I love this city,” Mary Alice breathed. I would have agreed with her if it hadn’t been for the hordes of tourists packing the bridge with their selfie sticks and slices of takeaway pizza. Mary Alice and Akiko had honeymooned in Venice, and I had my own pleasant memories of the city. One of my favorite assassinations had taken place there, in the Gritti Palace—touristy, but with a delicious if overpriced Bellini. I always thought it was a nice touch that they served their drinks with little bowls of potato chips.