Trigger Page 19

  “Of course, you speak Spanish too,” I mumbled.

  Uneasy, I glanced behind us. No matter how hard I strained, I didn’t see anything.

  “What is it?” His voice was sharp.

  “Nothing.” I was uncertain.

  “Then what is it?” he asked.

  “Just that, nothing is out of the ordinary, and it bothers me.”

  I was not sure how to explain the twitch in my mind that told me something just wasn’t right. He held my eyes for a long moment and then turned back to the driver. There was another exchange in Spanish. The driver made a sudden, sharp turn shooting up a side street. He took a few more quick turns before we were back on another busy avenue, weaving in and out of traffic.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “I told him to take us to a different place and to take a few turns. That way if we’re being followed, we may be able to lose them.”

  “You think someone is following us?”

  “It never hurts to take precautions.”

  The driver interrupted our conversation with a question. Chase answered, then told me to get ready without saying for what. As the car pulled over to the curb, Chase handed some Euros to the driver and got out of the vehicle. I was right behind him. The driver immediately pulled away from the curb, melting into the thick traffic. Chase hustled us inside the small internet café in front of us.

  We approached the counter where Chase spoke to the teenager behind the register. Seconds later, we were in front of a monitor. Chase plugged a flash-drive into the computer as he booted it up.

  “What’s that thing?”

  “An encryption device that will also wipe out any trace that we used this computer,” he murmured, absorbed by what he was doing.

  Chase logged on to an email account and scrolled through some messages. When he found what he was looking for, he read it quickly before closing out of everything. With a few keystrokes, he did something to the computer to make it shut down.

  “Why did you turn it off?”

  “Just rebooting it after wiping my tracks,” he said, standing up.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as we stepped outside.

  “Las Ramblas.”

  “How does this work exactly?” I wanted to know.

  “We need to find a kid on a bike in a certain area of Las Ramblas. He will tell us what to do next,” Chase explained.

  “A kid on a bike? Is that some kind of joke?”

  “No.” He frowned at me as though he couldn’t understand my concern.

  “How will we pick out one kid in a crowd?”

  “I’ll know it’s the right kid when I see him.” He was confident.

  “How?”

  “He will be near the Monument a Colom.” He was smiling as though he found something entertaining.

  “What is so funny?”

  “The fact that we are meeting someone by the Monument a Colom. It is a famous statue of Columbus pointing to the Americas that marks the end of Las Ramblas. Niko picked that spot because we’re American. It’s his idea of a joke.”

  I didn’t see the humor in it, but maybe you had to know the guy.

  We walked down a couple of busy avenues before turning onto a fairly narrow side street that ended on a one way road. Across the way was a wide, tree-lined esplanade crowded with people.

  Crossing the street, we entered the promenade. The elegant buildings that rose up on either side boasted cast iron balconies teeming with brightly colored flowers. Tall trees lining the clean street provided bright spots of green against the blue sky. In one direction were vendor stalls full of fresh flowers, in the other was a string of cafes. The rich colors and fragrances of the different blossoms combined with the heady aromas of food threatened to overload my senses.

  Also hungry, Chase headed down the promenade to a bakery. He ordered a couple of readymade sandwiches and some bottles of water. He handed me one of each and immediately started in on his own as we continued to walk. Whether I was ravenous or it was just that good, the meat and cheese sandwich disappeared quickly.

  As we made our way down the esplanade, the cafés were replaced by stalls with all kinds of artwork on display. Almost every twenty feet, different performance artists plied their trade to the delight of the crowd. Still further up ahead, there was a tall statue in the center of a roundabout. Beyond that, the bright blue water of a harbor sparkled in the sunlight.

  “What should I be on the lookout for?”

  “Him,” Chase said with certainty.

  He was indicating a teenager on a jet-black motorcycle parked on the street right next to the boardwalk. The motorcycle had been reversed up to the curb so you could easily pull out onto the street. There were two helmets sitting on the back of the seat.

  “How can you be sure?” I asked.

  “His hat,” he murmured. The kid was sporting a black baseball hat with a familiar logo on it.

  “The Yankees?” I blurted.

  “Another joke.”

  “This Niko is a regular riot.” I was sarcastic.

  The kid in the hat deliberately got off the bike after Chase made eye contact with him. He pulled out a cell phone as he walked away. The key to the bike was visible in the ignition.

  Chase crossed over to the motorcycle, handing me one helmet while pulling the other onto his head. He stuffed the packs into the small storage compartment before straddling the bike. I climbed on behind him, securing my own helmet. Chase was fiddling with something by the ignition. Someone in the crowd caught my eye. He was only visible for a moment, but that was all it took for me to spot him.

  “Hold on,” Chase said just as the bike shot forward.

  “Chase!” I shouted over the roar of the bike. He cocked his head back toward me to indicate he could hear me. “I just saw Marcello!”

  Even as I said the words aloud, I could not quite believe them. He had been standing there staring directly at me before the crowd swallowed him. Even though I had seen him for just a split second, I was absolutely positive it had been him.

  “You’re sure?” he shouted.

  “Yes!”

  He didn’t say anything else, but the bike picked up more speed. Traffic got thicker, forcing Chase to weave around cars like a demon was after him. Helpless to do anything else, I held on tight, throwing wary looks behind us. Minutes later, we approached a massive plaza with two very large fountains and lots of trees.

  I guessed that it was the Placa Catalunya which meant we had left Las Ramblas and were now in the center of the city. We zipped along the perimeter, leaving Placa Catalunya behind us. Chase zigzagged through traffic down several side streets, continuing to head in the same general direction

  Before too long, one of the most famous and easily recognizable landmarks in Barcelona, Antonio Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia Cathedral, rose up in front of us. My gaze traveled up the length of its skeletal façade to its towering spires. It was an intense combination of magnificent and creepy all at the same time. Across the street from the cathedral was a park that encompassed a whole city block.

  Chase circled the park once before deftly maneuvering the bike to a parking spot close to the cathedral. We dismounted, removing our helmets at the same time.

  “You are positive it was Marcello?” He was looking at me intently.

  “I’ve no doubt.”

  “Did he see you?”

  I nodded.

  “Was he with anyone?”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  “Damn!” Chase was angry. “How could he know where we are?”

  At a loss, I shrugged.

  “This means that other people know where we are,” he said. “The other important question is, why did Marcello let you see him?”

  “You think he let me see him?” I was baffled.

  “He is a professional, yet you were able to pick him out of the crowd. I would say he did that deliberately. It has to be some sort of warning.”

  I had no insight
to offer.

  “We need to move. We’re too out in the open here.” He led the way toward the entrance of the cathedral.

  “How did you know we needed to come here?” I asked.

  “GPS on the bike had this destination programmed into it. I’m assuming we meet someone else here,” he explained without breaking stride.

  Near the front of the building, he slowed down to look around casually, as any other tourist might.

  “Why couldn’t he just tell us where to meet him?” I asked.

  I kept expecting Marcello’s face to pop up out of the crowd again. This time he would have a bunch of agents with him who would tackle us before we could get away. I wanted nothing more than to find what we needed and move on. I felt safe when we were on the move. When we were standing around waiting, it felt way too much like I had a big bull’s eye on my back, and that made me jittery.

  “His paranoia won’t allow it. This method makes it harder for someone to get to him. If a message is intercepted they could show up at the right place, but wouldn’t know what to do next.”

  “We don’t know what to do next,” I muttered.

  “The advantage we have is that I know how he thinks.” He trailed off as he noticed something.

  Chase headed toward the entry again. I followed, trying to pinpoint what had snagged his attention. There were several tour groups and a contingent of school children being ushered around by guides. People were lounging in the grassy areas as well as walking on the pathways. Vendors selling everything from food and bottles of water to mini replicas of La Sagrada Familia were scattered throughout the park. Chase walked up to one vendor with a very small cart selling water. The vendor asked him a question. Chase responded as he paid for the bottle of water the vendor handed him.

  After pocketing the cash, the man started to move his cart along the path away from the crowds. I would have thought he would have wanted to be where the people were. Instead, he was walking away, adjusting his Boston Red Sox baseball cap. It hit me like a slap in the face. The vendor was our second contact. I turned to face Chase, who was walking back to me.

  “You’re right,” he said before I even opened my mouth.

  “Now what?”

  “Back to the bike.” He walked swiftly back the way we had come.

  Even though I wanted to know where we were going, I thought it best to wait till we were on the move. At the bike, we both pulled on our helmets and climbed on. Once we zoomed away from the curb, my curiosity got the best of me.

  “Park Guell,” he said in answer to my question about where we were headed.

  “Niko appears to have some sort of weird fascination with Gaudi and decades-old baseball rivalries. I think your buddy may have some mental problems,” I shouted over the roar of the engine.

  He didn’t say anything as the streets and buildings of Barcelona flashed by.

  It didn’t take long to reach Park Guell with the way Chase drove. After circling the area once, he settled on a spot not too far from the main entrance. It was on a side street just off a major road by the park. It was inconspicuous, yet still easy to get back to if we needed to get out of there in a hurry.

  Leaving the bike and the helmets locked up, we joined the flood of people heading into the park. The two gatehouses we passed looked like gingerbread cottages from a storybook. I could tell the park was going to be very interesting.

  From the entryway, we followed the crowd to a grandiose staircase. The steps rose up from two sides and converged at a large fountain. On either side of the lower double staircase were raised terraces. Lush plants hung down from the base of the pillars that formed the terrace railings.

  The fountain in the middle was a uniquely beautiful mosaic dragon posed with its feet gripping the railings. Directly behind the dragon was another sculpture that I couldn’t quite identify in the short amount of time it took to pass it. At the head of the stairs were the first of many massive columns that supported a large terrace. The area under the structure boasted high ceilings and more mosaic artwork. The faint sound of Spanish guitar music echoed hauntingly in the space.

  Struck by the grandeur of it all, I would have stopped to stare if Chase hadn’t kept me moving. Skirting the column area, we followed the steps up to the enormous terrace. It was roughly circular with a low wall that undulated in waves along the length of it. The wall doubled as one long, continuous bench that was alive with vibrant tiles in a variety of shapes, colors and patterns. Beyond the wall was a breathtaking view of all of Barcelona.

  Not only could I see all the way to the sea, I could see a majority of the park. The other structures were as distinctive and organic as the other Gaudi creations I had seen.

  Chase picked a spot on the bench away from people.

  “What do you think?” he asked, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

  “I feel like I’m trapped inside a Tim Burton movie,” I replied, looking around at the architecture. “It’s all very beautiful in its own way, but it’s definitely out there.”

  He smiled. “I enjoy his work, although I sometimes wonder if he was more than just a little disturbed.”

  I searched the area as I spoke. “Should I be looking for a Dodgers hat now, or perhaps a New York Knicks jersey?”

  “Now, we wait.”

  I could tell he was uneasy with the waiting game, too.

  “Do you think anyone besides Marcello knows we are here?”

  “I am sure if he does, then others do, too.” I could tell that he was troubled by what Marcello’s presence meant.

  “Pardoneme senorita, a que hora es?” a gentle male voice enquired from right next to me.

  Startled, I stood halfway up. At the same time Chase grabbed my arm with one hand, spinning me one hundred and eight degrees around his body so I was sitting on his other side. Now he was between me and the stranger who had been sitting next to me. While all this was happening, he was reaching for his gun. In mid-draw he let his hand drop, leaving the weapon hidden under his shirt. Recovering myself, I leaned past him to see who had spoken.

  Lounging casually on the bench next to where I had been sitting was an older man. He was long and lean with a mane of thick, white hair. Sharp green eyes gleamed under thick, dark brows. The off-white linen suit he wore was casually elegant. His narrow face was very tan. He had a hawk-like nose and a row of shiny white teeth, which he was currently flashing in a feral grin.

  CHAPTER 13

  “JUMPY, ARE WE?” His voice was like rough stone swathed in velvet.

  He sounded very urbane and was obviously European, but I couldn’t quite place his accent. His looks matched his voice; unique, refined, and attractive.

  “It has been a busy few days so I’m a bit on edge. I’m sure you understand.” Chase’s response was cool.

  “So I’ve heard,” the man replied in his velvet gravel voice. “Perhaps you need a vacation, or may I suggest a massage?”

  Chase’s face broke into a wide smile, “How’re you doing Niko?”

  I had not been expecting someone that looked, and spoke, like landed gentry. While I hadn’t thought too much about his physical appearance, the image I’d had in my head had been closer to a mad scientist than an aging European film star.

  “Forgive me for being terribly rude.” Niko fixed his raptor-like gaze on me. “I’m Niko, and you are Miss Jordan Shaw. Enchante.”

  He pronounced the final word with considerable flair as he grasped my hand to kiss it softly. The whole presentation was extremely sophisticated and more than a little strange, considering the situation.

  “A pleasure,” I stammered. I realized that he had said my name. “How do you know who I am?”

  Niko’s expression was very gentle. “I’m afraid that I know a great deal about you, and I’m not the only one.”

  “But how?”

  “The internet offers so much information,” he said, “If you have the skills, you can find out anything about a person. Things even they may not kn
ow.”

  “Why would anyone want to know anything about me?” There was a slight tremble in my voice.

  “That, my dear, is the million dollar question. Or maybe I should say it is the two million dollar question.” He glanced pointedly at Chase.

  “It’s up to two million?” Chase’s voice was sharp as a blade.

  “It is one of the largest bounties I have heard of for someone whom I’ve never heard of before.” Niko flicked a look around the terrace. “Even though they sent an entire team after her, it didn’t seem to be huge priority. After she evaded abduction and the shootout in Monterosso, they upped the price.” He waited a beat before adding, “They sent their best this time.”

  Chase’s expression visibly hardened.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Vlad.” Chase’s voice was flat.

  “Who?” I demanded.

  When he looked at me, Niko’s eyes were fathomless. “They’ve sent an operative after you whose code name is Vlad.”

  “Why would they send him?”

  “I don’t know why they’re after her specifically. I do know that the order came out of Sevilla, and that is where she is to be taken.” Niko checked to make sure no one was getting too close before he skewered me with his gaze again. “I would really like to know how you have evaded them thus far, my dear.”

  I had no answer other than the truth. “I don’t know, luck.”

  “How interesting; luck, you say? I’ve learned that we often make our own luck.”

  He refused to relinquish eye contact with me. I wanted to squirm, but was determined not to show any weakness.

  “As it turns out, Jordan has certain skills I wasn’t aware of,” Chase spoke up.

  This statement caused Niko to aim his penetrating gaze at Chase. He seemed to be trying to read his mind.

  “I wonder,” he mused, letting his eyes drift back over the plaza before resting on me again.

  “You wonder what?” Chase asked sharply.

  “In everything I have been able to find on her I’ve found nothing, not a trace, of exactly what their particular interest is. I wonder if what you’re telling me has something to do with why they’re after her.”