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Remi said, “We don’t want to put you and Teresa in danger. If you’ll give us directions to—”
Umberto was already rising. “Nonsense. Wait here.” He went inside then returned a minute later carrying a shoebox. “You’ll need this,” he said, handing it over.
Inside Sam found a genuine World War II-era nine-millimeter Luger pistol along with two full magazines.
“My father liberated that from the Gestapo officer who executed my uncles. As my father told the story, the man no longer had any use for it.”
Umberto smiled grimly at them and winked.
“We can’t accept this,” Sam said.
“Of course you can. When you’re done here, you can return it. Besides, I have another. My father was an exceptionally good liberator. Come, we’ll go now.”
CHAPTER 25
The graveyard to which Yvette had had Laurent’s remains moved had no name, Umberto told them, but it was hundreds of years old, dating back to when Elba was still a French protectorate. Nor was it on any map.
They took the Lancia and followed the main road to the outskirts of the village then turned north, heading higher into the mountains, now in complete shadow as the sun set. After ten minutes Umberto, who was riding in the backseat, said, “Stop the car, please.”
“What’s wrong?” Sam said.
“Just pull over, please.”
Sam did so, shutting off the headlights and coasting to a stop. Sam and Remi turned around to see Umberto rubbing his forehead. “I’ve done something terrible,” he murmured.
“What?”
“I’m leading you into a trap.”
“What are you talking about?” Remi asked.
“This afternoon, while we were still in town, Bianco came to my home. Teresa called me. He threatened to kill us if we didn’t help him.”
“Why are you telling us this?”
“The gun. My father took that gun from a man who was threatening his family, his friends. He was afraid, too, I am sure, just like I am, but he fought back. I have to do the same. I’m very sorry.”
Sam and Remi were silent for a few minutes, then Remi said, “You told us. That’s enough. Are they waiting for us?”
“No, but they’re coming.” He checked his watch. “Thirty minutes, no more. I am to let you open the crypt and recover whatever you’ve come for, then they’ll take it and kill you both, I imagine. And perhaps me as well.”
“How many men?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know.” Umberto pulled a spare magazine for his own Luger from his pocket and handed it over the seat to Sam. “The bullets in yours are dummies.”
“Thanks, but why give us a gun at all?”
“I wanted to gain your trust. I hope you can forgive me.”
“We’ll let you know in an hour or so. If you cross us—”
“You have my permission to shoot me.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam said, staring him in the eyes.
Remi said, “What about Teresa? Won’t she—”
“She’s already gone,” Umberto replied. “I have cousins in Nisporto; they’ll protect her.”
