Page 57 of The Man with a Treasure

After checking out of the hotel in the middle of the night, we took a cab to a small all-night diner on the outside of town. Inside, having an early two AM breakfast, I knew my beauty had arrived when a sleek blue Mercedes parked. Taking a sip of coffee, I told Angelo, “I will name her Blue Night.” This fine car was perfect, missing its VIN number and everything. Even had a license plate that was guaranteed for eleven months.

Angelo took a bite of a donut that I knew he was wishing was a pastry my mother had made. “More of keeping our image alive and well?”

I slid out of the booth, poorly imitating the toothless man from the other night. “Don’t ‘cha just know it.”

As I walked away with a pocket full of cash, Angelo chuckled and mumbled, “Slang will never be your strong suit.”

Angelo was pleased I got the guy to throw in a satellite phone and two burners. After discarding all our Giordano-known cellphones, we picked up a slew of phonecards and used someone else’s social security number. Breaking all ties to home hurt and was terrifying, but it was necessary.

Driving through to Idaho, we were sure to be in cities that had banks we needed by the time they opened. We drained every account but one and also hit ATM machines with our credit cards, then disposed of all the cards and IDs. Our last ways of being traced through the internet were almost gone. The last, Scarlett’s account that, if all went well, would soon also be empty. Angelo linked that account to the satellite phone he would discard once all this was over, if we were alive and able.

Loaded with an obscene amount of cash, we headed to our new temporary home.

The realtor met us there and accepted the cash and a fake signature on a contract we would never abide by. Angelo claimed to have ‘lost’ his phone and gave her his new number. With a knowing smile, she said, “Of course. Happens all the time.”

After a few questions were answered, she offered Angelo her personal cellphone number. “If there is anything you need, please call me. We take wonderful care of our special clients. And your assigned maid, Mae, who is incredibly discreet, will come as often as you like, and can also pick up anything you need. She is resourceful and trustworthy. Returning clients always request her.”

“Can we forward you a grocery list?” I was sure to give a Rossi smile to get my way.

“Of course!” our realtor replied, her own flirty smile shining.

When she left, there was only time to unload the car and hide money in different locations. Which was a shame, because this home was luxurious with a capital L. It had a partially open floor plan. The kitchen was outstanding, and a part of the living room had a black Baby Grand piano and floor to ceiling windows. There was a magnificent fireplace in front of which you could pleasure any willing woman.

Locking the door, I told the extravagant house, “I will return shortly and fill you with the aroma of true Italian cooking.”

I could speak as loud as I liked. There were no neighbors for miles.

Our last rental car had been an Escalade. Why on Earth a person would have the need to drive a house on wheels was beyond me. Angelo’s shoulders may have been a hair wider than mine, but let’s not be ridiculous. A normal back seat was sufficient. “Here you go, sir.” I playfully opened the back passenger door.

As he loaded in, he teased, “Shouldn’t you bow to me or something?”

“Lick my balls and shit yourself.”

Now he laughed, loudly. “Are your balls so foul they would cause me diarrhea?”

I slammed the door in his laughing face.

My hand grazed the shiny hood as I walked to the driver’s door. “I will not let you ruin my wonderful mood, Angelo Bianchi. If I live after today, I will be taking full advantage of the life God, mistakenly, hasn’t given me yet.” I opened the driver’s door. “Speaking of,” I sat behind the steering wheel, “I have been thinking.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Since I am the handsome one of this duo, I have come to realize I should be the one pretending to be the boss.” The engine purred to life. “It would be much more believable than the scenario in which we are trying to fool people.”

As I pulled out of the gravel driveway, passing an abundance of trees, Angelo asked, “And how do we explain this to our realtor and maid, who thinks I am her boss?”

Pulling onto a nicely packed dirt road, I pondered. “Hmm, we could explain it was all a ruse in case they are assassins?”

“Ah, yes. That theory would not cause unwanted questions to arise.”

We drove for hours. The closer we got, the harder it was to joke around. As were the mountains, the looming danger was too profound to be ignored. Even though Angelo had checked his guns many times, he was in the backseat, checking them again.

Out of habit, I asked, “Any messages?” but caught myself when remembering my father no longer had a way to offer any last text of warning or message to proceed.

Angelo’s voice sounded tight. “I’m so sorry to be asking you to go in blind.”

“Think we’re being set up?”

“I think your father has done his best to keep that from happening.”