32. Michelangelo

Before we reached Castello Vicchiomaggio, Tank pulled the SUV over and got out. Typhon moved to the driver’s seat and I, to the one next to it. Tank got into the other SUV when Blackjack stopped behind us. Then, we removed our comms sets.

Surprisingly, when we arrived, the gates to Don Scaglione’s estate stood open. Less so were the men wielding automatic weapons who stepped out of the shadows when we pulled through them.

Typhon rolled down the window, and one of the men waved us through.

“How often do you come here?”

“As often as necessary.”

We drove up to the villa and were escorted inside by another man carrying an automatic weapon. Three others followed behind us.

We were led to a lift that took us two floors up. When it stopped and the door opened, we stepped out into a luxurious space much like a penthouse in Manhattan. I followed Typhon out to a terrace.

“Benito! Welcome, my friend,” said the don, who was seated at a table in the back left corner, but stood. “Brando, we meet again.” He motioned to where he’d been seated. “Please join me.”

I took a seat at one of the places where wine was already poured and raised my glass when the don did.

“Benito tells me you need my help. I find I’m somewhat surprised, given I understand you went back to work for another syndicate.”

I looked over at Typhon, who nodded.

“I’m not here on behalf of the Sicilians.”

The don raised a brow.

“Someone very important to me has been kidnapped. I need help finding her.”

He sat back in his chair. “I see. And what do I get in return? What is your area of expertise, I wonder. Let me think.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Ah, yes, I recall. Art forgery, wasn’t it?”

“I have something else you might find of more interest.”

He looked from me to Typhon, then back again. “Go on.”

“It doesn’t relate solely to art. It would be a means to put the Sicilian Syndicate out of business.”

He raised a brow a second time. “I’m listening.”

“First, I need your word you’ll help me.”

He nodded and put his hand on his heart. “You have it.”

“I also need your word that once I’ve given you what you need to take them down, you will not only help with what I’ve already asked of you, but you will allow me to leave Italy with your assurance that no one from your organization—yourself as well—will come after me or my family, or ever attempt to make contact with me again.”

“Again, you have my word.”

It didn’t takeme very long to lay everything out, including where the stolen masterpieces were being kept, where the forgeries were being produced, and my belief that Gerlando Battaglia had leveraged both to fund other syndicate enterprises. I also told him what I knew about an investigation into the recent sale of forgeries from a singular auction house and the plan to raid the locations mentioned.

“And if the stolen artwork was no longer there?” Scaglione asked.

“The investigation would continue under the assumption the pieces were relocated prior to the raid,” I assured him.

“By the Sicilians.”

“That’s correct.”

“Who is this person who is so important to you?”

“My fiancée.”

“Who do you believe kidnapped her?”

“De Rossi,” Typhon answered.

The don motioned with his hand, and an armed man appeared. His Italian wasn’t difficult to translate since it was only two words. “Find him.” He looked back at me, then at Typhon. “He’s a marked man. Not by me. The Sicilians issued the order.”

“Do you know why?” I asked.

“The forgers are also marked.”

My eyes opened wide. “The grandfather and grandson?”

Scaglione nodded. “With your return, they became redundant, and they know too much. Maximo sought their protection.”

“What is the connection?” Typhon asked.

“The grandfather is De Rossi’s uncle.”

“You said Max sought their protection. From whom?” I pressed.

“Various people.”

“You?” I pushed.

“Not necessarily.”

“I’ll ask another way,” said Typhon. “Do you know where the grandfather and grandson are?”

The don nodded again. “Somewhere safe.”

This information reinforced our theory that Max had abducted Penelope, or at least arranged for it to happen.

“Has the kidnapper made contact?” the don asked.

“Yes. I’m waiting for instructions,” I responded.

“Offer an exchange.”

I pulled out my mobile and sent the message.

Seconds later, I received a response. You fucking sonuvabitch.

“It’s him.” I told them what the message said. “Should I respond?” I asked Typhon.

“She dies. They die,” the don answered for him.

I sent those words exactly.

The man Scaglione had told to find Maximo reappeared moments later and set a folded piece of paper on the table in front of his boss. He opened it, then slid it across the table.

“You will find Maximo here.”

I knew better than to ask if we were truly offering an exchange. It had been bait, and now Max was on the hook.

“Thank you, Don Scaglione,” I said, standing when he and Typhon did.

“I must admit I looked forward to us working together, Ripa. However, I will honor my word.”

“I appreciate it, sir.”

After Typhon and the don embraced, we returned to the lift where the man who’d given his boss the note stood waiting.

“You drive,” said Typhon when we approached the waiting SUV.

“Who did you contact?” I asked when I saw him send a message on his mobile.

Typhon scrubbed his face. “The bloody cavalry.” He groaned and looked out the window. “As hard as it is for me to admit, Nemesis and her crew are the best there is.”

I glanced over at him.

“You tell her I said so, and I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

“Are you saying they’re better than Unit 23?”

“No, but we kill first and ask questions later.”

It wasa forty-minute drive in the hills above Radda in Chianti, where the note said we’d find Maximo. And, according to Typhon, Nemesis and whoever she’d brought with her would be in position outside the estate’s perimeter by the time we arrived.

Like so many vineyard properties in this part of Italy, the one we were headed to had a vast network of wine caves tunneled into the surrounding hillside. While there was a chance Maximo was holding Pen in the villa or an outbuilding, the caves made more sense, given in there, they’d be more difficult to find.

February’s cool temperatures would make it easier for thermal vision devices to locate warm spots. How far into the caves they were and how to get there would be our biggest challenge.

Also to our advantage, there wouldn’t have been time or the means to set up surveillance or CCTV cameras in the tunnels. Doing so would cost millions. No doubt, the entrance, or entrances, would be monitored, but those feeds were easily scrambled or disabled.

Typhon programmed the coordinates Nemesis sent into the vehicle’s GPS, and when we arrived, I was stunned by the number of people waiting. Most shocking was seeing DeDe among them. After putting on my comms headset, I exited the SUV, and she walked toward me.

“I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances, but it is good to see you, Brand.”

“Likewise,” I said as we embraced.

She motioned to where Nemesis and Typhon stood next to a vehicle, looking at a laptop.

After we’d greeted each other, she showed us a schematic of the caves and where there were hot spots. “There are several,” she pointed out, but this one is where we believe Penelope is being held.”

“What led you to that conclusion?” Typhon asked.

“It’s the only area where it appears people come and go. The rest don’t move, so they’re most likely guards. We’ve broken into teams.” The screen changed, and color overlays appeared on the schematic. She used the trackpad to indicate which Typhon, Tank, Blackjack, and I would join.

“Who am I with?” I asked.

“You and Typhon will be with Seshat. Your route is the most direct, and she’s a physician’s assistant who can administer necessary care.”

“Let’s go,” Typhon said and I followed.