Page 107 of The Medici Return

Why is it important?

He replied.This man is a problem.

Five minutes later a response.

Come to me. Now.

His answer was never in doubt.

Where?

COTTON ALLOWED THE COBWEBS INSIDE HIS HEAD TO CLEAR. HE DIDnot think he’d suffered a concussion, but you never knew about a head injury. Richter seemed okay, besides the twisted arm and gash to his forehead. The bleeding had stopped and the cardinal seemed fine.

“None of this was ever mentioned at seminary,” Richter said.

He smiled. “I would hope not.”

“You saw a man in the road, holding a rifle?”

“I did. It was the same man from the train. The same man who was inside the car, searching for the pledge.”

“Who now has it.”

That was true. But who did the man work for?

He fished his phone from his pocket and saw that it had survived the crash. Tough units. Specially made for the Magellan Billet, and given to him by Stephanie Nelle. He unlocked the screen and saw that there was service. Thank goodness. He entered a code that the phone recognized and dialed Stephanie Nelle’s direct line for a phone she carried with her twenty-four hours a day. She answered immediately and he reported what happened.

“We need to get to Cardinal Stamm,” he said. “He’s nearby at a Tuscan resort.”

“I’ll get a car to you from your phone’s GPS.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

“You armed?”

The gun was still nestled at his spine. He’d made sure to bring it with him. “I am.”

“Good.”

He ended the call.

They were near the highway on which they’d driven to Santa Maria di Castello. A few minutes ago three cars had left themonastery. Two first together. Then a single vehicle. All three sped down the highway and away into the night, not stopping to investigate what was apparently burning down below the roadway. Which spoke volumes. No way to see who had occupied the cars. But one or more surely held Camilla Baines and her Golden Oak minions.

The night was calm and warm.

Peaceful, despite the chaos.

A lot was happening.

Thank goodness he’d worn his patient pants.

Cotton’s watch read 10:20P.M.when the car that had retrieved him and Richter turned off the main highway and headed into the woods on a dirt lane until finally reaching a cypress-lined avenue that ran alongside a golf course. He’d caught a glimpse of several greens and tee boxes in the headlights. The car climbed a short incline and stopped before a lit villa on the grounds of Castiglion del Bosco. Richter explained that the resort had assimilated an actual medieval village, and that Stamm apparently liked it there.

Which had made him smile.

The building before them occupied a rise and surely commanded a high-priced view of the countryside. It looked like a two-story stone farmhouse that had been transformed into a multi-bedroom hideaway, the very picture of a Tuscan villa, including stone walls veined with greenery, a ceramic-tiled roof, and a lovely flower garden. There was also a shaded terrace and pool, both lit to the night. A Land Rover Defender was parked out front. Inside were comfortable Tuscan-style furnishings combined with the latest in technology, including a huge flat-screen television. Stamm was ensconced before it watching a European football match.

“Sit,” the older man said as they entered. “There are liquids on the cart. Wine. Whiskey. Soft drinks. Help yourself.”