Authors: LYNN BOHART
A bullet ripped through the door casing and Giorgio cried out, purposely knocking over a nearby stack of cans as if he’d been hit
.
This time however, he was acting, remaining where he was without making a sound
.
If
Frances
came to check on him, he’d be ready
.
If not, he might still be able to get a jump on him
.
He
became aware of a strong acrid smell and glanced down to where several gallon cans now lay on their sides next to the plywood wall
.
Something oozed out of the can closest to the wall
.
He must have knocked over some kind of solvent or industrial glue
.
“Gee, Detective
.
Hope I didn’t hurt you,” Francis called out.
Giorgio’s heart leapt, but he kept silent with his gun pointe
d directly at the door opening.
“Detective?”
Still, Giorgio made no sound
.
Frances also became silent
.
Giorgio tensed, bracing his left hand as best he could, ready to fire
.
But
Frances
didn’t appear
.
Instead, he began moving again on the other side of the plywood
wall.
Either he assumed Giorgio was dead, or
was
wounded so badly he couldn’t move
.
Giorgio reached down and
carefully
took off his shoes
.
Crouched like a Sumo wrestler, he moved a couple of feet forward until he could see through the door and across the small space to the east window
.
The angle of the spotlights below threw more light into this side of the tower, revealing the window framed in new wood, the plaster having been stripped away for the repairs
.
A portable workbench was set up to the right
.
Lumber and bags of cement were stacked to the left
.
Frances was partially blocked, but Giorgio could see that he was concentrating on something in his hands
.
A moment later, he rocked back and threw whatever it was throug
h the window and over the wall.
Giorgio’s heart sank
.
He knew why
Frances
had avoided the belfry’s main staircase
.
He’d thrown a rope over the wall and planned to lower himself down the east side of the tower
.
By hugging the wall below, he could move through the heavy foliage around the building to disappear into the surrounding hillsides completely unnoticed
.
Giorgio had to move fast.
He inched his way to the edge of the doorway, careful not to alert his quarry
.
He contemplated shooting
Frances
, but didn’t trust using his left hand
.
Instead, he straightened up and stepped into the enclosure.
“Frances, stop,” he commanded
.
Frances jerked around, dropping the rope and reaching for his gun.
“Don’t!” Giorgio warned, moving closer
.
He held his injured arm close to his waist, conscious of the throbbing pain
.
His left hand held the gun steady, but if
Frances
moved quickly in any direction, he wouldn’t have enough control to hit him.
Frances paused, his hand held above the gun sitting on a stool
.
“Well, well, well
.
I thought you were dead, but then, that’s what you
wanted me to think, wasn’t it?”
“Move away from the gun.”
Frances
took a step backwards as Giorgio moved in
.
His right arm was useless, so rather than retriev
e
Frances’
gun
,
he merely knocked it into a bucket on the floor
.
Frances stood quietly next to the cement bags, a dark stain spread across one shoulder
.
“
So, what now?” he asked warily.
“We wait for reinforcements.”
Blaring sirens announced the arrival of the police onto the monastery grounds
.
Frances looked around as red and blue lights flashed across the arched openings
.
“Good timing,” he said good-naturedly.
Giorgio glanced
over his shoulder at the arriving police force
.
When he
turned back
,
a puff of grainy dust
hit him
in his face
.
He stumbled backwards
and
Frances pounce
d
, grabbing the gun from his hand
.
Giorgio
’s eyes burned and he slid
down
the wall
onto his haunches
.
When he got the grit out of his eyes, he looked up to find
Frances
poi
nting his own gun at his chest.
“What now?” Giorgio mimicked Frances
.
“Now, I kill you and get out of here.
”
“You w
on’t get away,” Giorgio bluffed.
“I’ll get out of here, or die
.
I’d be dead within the week anyway
.
My uncle would see to that,” Frances said,
glancing
around him
.
Frances was caught in the spill of moonlight
and suddenly, Giorgio recognized him
.
“Your uncle?”
“Robert Marino.”
The last piece of the puzzle fit
.
“Your Uncle runs with the mob.”
Even in the dim light, the self-satisfied grin on the young man’s face told a story. “He doesn’t run
with
the mob, Detective
.
He
runs
the mob.”
Frances’ eyes kept darting around the enclosure as if looking for something
.
Giorgio used the moment to turn towards the shattered door where a white flash on the far side of the belfry caught his attention
.
“Whoa!” Frances exclaimed.
Giorgio snapped to attention
.
Frances was moving
.
Hopefully, the white flash meant Rocky was positioning himself for a rescue
.
Frances circled around Giorgio until he was just inside the broken door
.
He stopped and glanced down to the floor next to the construction wall, sniffing
.
The solvent had seeped under the wall, spreading several feet into their space
.
He
looked at Giorgio with a smile.
“It seems my luck hasn’t run out yet,” he sneered.
A tapestry of voices reached the bell tower as officers emerged from their squad cars and monks hurried from the monastery to meet them
.
The entire grounds seemed alive with activity
.
Giorgio knew time was short and that
Frances
would have to make this quick
.
“Get over here,” he barked.
Frances wanted him to move into the oozing solvent
.
“Now!” he ordered, waving the gun at him.
Slowly, Giorgio got up and sidestepped into position as Frances reached into his pocket and removed a match
.
With a flick of his thumb, the match flared to life
.
Giorgio felt the blood drain away as he realized he was about to
face death by fire for the second time
in just a few days.
“You’re my diversion,
Detective,” he smiled wickedly.
Frances raised his hand ready to toss the match when a
large
shadow lunged at him from behind
, grabbing his arm
.
Frances emitted a sharp cry a
s
the match
flew
safely onto the floor behind him
.
He lurched
sideways
, twisting and turning,
dragging something heavy with him.
Giorgio ran for the bucket while Frances swung around trying desperately to
dislodge
the monster attached to his
wrist
.
Giorgio retrieved Frances’ weapon and turned, ready to fire, but Grosvner kept getting in the way
.
As Frances swung from side to side, Grosvner swung with him
.
Frances finally
stopped, bringing up the hand holding the gun
,
pointing it straight at Grosvner’s head. G
iorgio
steadied his hand and
took a shot
.
He hit the young monk in the left shoulder again, this time blowing out the rotator cuff and splattering blood and bone fragments across the wall
.
Frances spun around, slamming against the new window supports, cracking the top boards
.
Grosvner had been dislodged but stood squarely in front of Frances now, barking at him
.
“Drop your gun, very slowly
,
”
Giorgio ordered him.
Frances’ face registered excruciating pain, and yet he raised the gun just enough to point it
directly
at the dog.
“You
can
kill me, but
I
just
might get
your dog
first.
”