Recent memories float back. How did they get me from Scotland to Monticiano so quickly? But then I have no idea how much time has passed. I can only guess Romano pulled in a few favours. When I try to recall other events, my head pounds. Eventually I surrender to tiredness and drift back to sleep.
The next time I awaken, the first light of dawn glows from the balcony. The chair next to my bed is empty. I assume Lorenzo has gone to get some rest, but then I hear movement from outside the room. Lorenzo enters carrying a tray. When he sees I am awake, he falters to a stop for a split second, his eyes widening momentarily before he gains control and marches over.
“Mrs Bellacci made a special chicken pastina soup for you. Are you hungry?”
I realise I am and nod. He places the tray down and lifts a large mug, beginning to feed me from a spoon. I stop him with a hand on his wrist.
“You don’t need to do that, Enzo,” I say. Speaking is painful and my voice comes out gravelly. “I can feed—”
“No, I will do this. And while you eat, I will tell you what has happened.”
I know better than to argue. I thought whatever medications Romano has me on might dull my taste buds, but the first sip of soup brings them to life and soothes my throat.
Lorenzo tells me they were never called to Rome. All this time, he and Mrs Bellacci remained at the safe house in Balchraggan, Scotland, awaiting instructions. Romano, he tells me, will explain more later. Mrs Bellacci believes that somebody high-ranking insisted that Romano’s team be ready, but remain in hiding in case I needed help. Which meant that something big was going down. When Romano eventually phoned to brief them, he’d explained how he had called in Coleman’s help. Mrs Bellacci had not been impressed. But they’d had no choice, because the night before I arrived at Hartfield, they were transported in an RAF Wildcat helicopter and dropped directly into the grounds. When the convoy of cars carrying M2 arrived, they had already taken up a vantage point in the water tower.
“The last thing I remember is you climbing the tower and giving Mrs Bellacci the rocket launcher. Did she manage to—”
“You doubt Mrs Bellacci’s skill?”
I smirk, and he mirrors my amusement before his smile transforms into a puzzled frown.
“But the drone malfunctioned, also. It was, I believe, a prototype, and may not have been fully tested. I don’t know. We could see the pilot struggling with the controls, rising too quickly. And then, as Mrs Bellacci began to take aim, they stopped moving and sat hovering in the same spot. A sitting duck, I think you call it. She couldn’t miss. Everything exploded into flames. Luck was with us that day.”
The news is a relief. Nobody else can pursue Uncle’s mad dream. But luck is not something to which I assign much faith, and I wonder if someone on board the craft had not been as loyal to the old man as he believed.
“How long have I been here?”
“Three days. It’s Saturday morning already.”
“What time?”
“It’s six. Others will be awake soon and will want to see you.”
“If I felt better, we could—” I begin.
“Gabriel, I want to so badly. But Romano said you must rest. Your heart might have been damaged by the poison, and I have been warned that elevating your blood pressure could further harm you. I would prefer to have you in full health. Then I can do everything my heart desires without worry?”
This is a new side of Lorenzo, more cautious and less cavalier. I notice lines of worry beneath his eyes, and it dawns on me that he has been afraid.
“Of course. Yes.”
“Besides, I can hear voices downstairs.”
“Romano and Bellacci?” I ask.
“And Mr Washington, I think. Maybe your friends from London.”
“Friends?”
“Josh, is it?”
I stare at him for a few seconds, letting the news sink in.
“Josh is here?”
“Doctor Romano says this Josh—I have not met him yet—has been told what happened and knows you’ve been injured. Romano flew him out with his friend late last night. He thought you might appreciate having them here. I am sure I can hear their English voices downstairs.”
“But before you see them,” comes a familiar voice from the doorway. “I would like to speak to you.”