Murray paid the taxi and then just sat on the lawn down the street from René's, studying the house and the surrounding geography. If she were alone then he would have to keep her quiet while he waited for Richard.

Killing her right away might be throwing away possible advantage regarding the money and make things considerably more difficult. On the other hand, if Richard is in there with her, things might go quickly and he could burn the place down avoiding any trace of his having been there, after getting the money of course.

The problem was the boat. "Where was it? Richard," he mused. His guess that it was Richard who helped Monique didn't bode well if they were together again and this woman was simply a tool in their plans.

He would bide his time and see what developed. He began walking down the street, past the house and across a small park to where he could see some shops.

***************

Richard returned the rental and then walked to the marina where he had berthed the boat. It was still there, undisturbed. His luck had held. He cast off and started the engine, steering out of the marina and down the coast to Portoverene. The weather was a little milder but a wind was rising from the east and the boat had to run at an angle through the growing chop.

By the time Richard reached the dock in the Golfo Della Spezia and moored the boat for the night, the sun was just balancing on the horizon, a fiery glow painted the rooftops of the buildings around the small marina, and the temperature had dropped considerably. He jogged up to Christopher's and asked the young man sweeping the deck where he was.

"Inside, back office."

Richard thanked him and walked through to the office.

"What happened to you?" He asked, looking at the sling on Christopher's arm.

"A bad sprain. Another man looking for René. This one was evil, Mister Carstairs."

"He made you tell." Richard knew the answer as Christopher raised his injured arm.

"How long ago?"

"Two hours maybe."

"Did you call her?"

Christopher raised his arm again and gave an apologetic shrug. "I did manage to disable the boat he came in though."

"You are a genius, Christopher. It might be a good idea to close shop and disappear for a while." Richard dashed outside and dialed René's cell phone. He paced up and down as he waited for an answer and when she did his heart nearly blew through his chest.

"René? Are you okay?"

"She's just fine, sir. Why not pop around and see for yourself."

"Murray." His throat closed and he thought he might gag. "What do you want? She has nothing to do with this."

"Oh sir, please. I think you feel I can be easily deceived."

"I'll come; just don't hurt her, Murray."

"Don't dally, sir." The line went dead.

Richard took off a fast trot through the park and when he arrived he just stood looking at the house. There was no chance of a surprise and likely no chance once he was inside. Murray was just too damned professional. He moved up the walk and onto the porch, knocking and entering.

"Welcome, Mister Carstairs. Come right in. Sit down. Care for some tea?"

Murray was all over himself pretending to be chatty and gracious. Richard looked at René, sitting primly in a chair beside the sofa, her face taut with strain.

"Are you okay? Did he do anything?"

"Oh sir, I am disappointed." Murray said, as he watched her shake her head. "I thought you knew me a little better than that."

"That's the trouble, Murray. I do know you."

"Ah well, I suppose to some extent you do. However, we aren't here to discuss my character. Have some tea and we can get down to the business at hand." He offered Richard a cup and one to René, both accepting resignedly.

"Now then, all friends, right?"

"You've been around Nathan too long."

"There is value in paying attention, Richard."

The first name usage was a surprise; Murray had never called him anything but sir or, Mister Carstairs. Had there been some regime change? He sipped the tea and waited.

"To the point then. Where is the money? And please don't waste a lot of time on fables, sir; I have already ascertained that you did get it from the bank."

Richard held up a hand but Murray frowned and shook his head.

"Before you make things awkward, sir, I already spoke with Diretorre Lupa and he described this lovely young woman to a tee. He also said he spoke to a Mister Arthur Glebeholme on the telephone, authorizing the issuing of the draft you probably have in your pocket right now."

"You're wrong Murray and I think you are fishing because you aren't certain of your facts."

"Enlighten me, sir."

Richard went through the events at the villa and that it was he who helped Monique escape. Murray listened with a patronizing smile.

"Monique and I made new arrangements for the money, arrangements that require both of us to gain access; we were planning on running off together and disappearing." He glanced at René, hoping she wouldn't mistake his tale for the truth.

Murray's eyebrows rose and he gave René a look of surprise.

"My, my. Did you think you were going to be the new infatuation, dear? Did our Richard whisper romantic fantasies in your shell-like ear?"

She sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. Neither man could fathom her emotions.

"Assuming your story is true, sir, it would be incumbent upon me to relieve you of that information . . . as well as the location of your new, old, lover. Of course, drastic measures can be avoided if you just drop the fabrications and give me the bank draft." He grinned blandly and sipped his tea.

"I told you what we did, Murray. Getting my part of the access procedure won't get you any closer to Monique or the money. We arranged for a date way down the road before we even contact one another, and that's through a series of cutouts. I have no idea where she has gone now. You would be an old man before you figured all that out."

The room filled with the weight of silent thinking; each of the parties watching for reactions from the other. Murray set his cup aside and sighed.

"Sir, I think it's time to assemble the details of our little chat, so if you would be so kind as to stand and raise your arms."

"Why? What are you planning, Murray, a beating? Some kind of Agency secret application of torture?"

"Very dramatic, sir. Stand up."

Richard put down his cup, his mind racing as how to defend himself and René. Nothing came to mind. Murray was the consummate heavy. He started to raise his arms when the door burst open and three men charged into the room waving guns.

"Move and you're dead!" Marco went straight to Richard and gave him a quick frisk and a crack on the side of the head with his gun. Marcello and Seb held their guns on Murray and René.

"Check him." Marcello said gruffly.

"Turn around, buster." Marco commanded and began a pat down of Murray and then Richard again while Seb kept them all covered. Marcello pulled René to her feet and began a slow body search, grinning with lecherous glee.

"They're all clean," Marco announced and Richard looked at Murray in surprise. Richard's gun was right in the middle of his back, stuck in his belt and he was sure Murray didn't leave his in his SUV. Murray made no sign of anything being amiss and when Marcello finished fondling René he ordered them all to one side of the room while he flopped in the chair René had vacated.

"Which of you is Richard Carstairs?"

"I am." Richard said.

"Okay, you and the girl are coming with us. Now, who's this boob?"

Murray showed his teeth and spoke with deadly earnest. "This 'boob' is the person who is going to kill you."

Marcello sat up, his face growing dark. He started to rise from the chair.

"What did you say to m-?"

The move was lightening quick and the heel of Murray's hand drove Marcello's nose right up into his brain. He gagged and coughed, blood flooding his face and before he could react at all, Murray drove an iron fist directly to his heart. Marcello collapsed without another sound, his breath hissing out like a leaky tire. Seb swung his gun from Richard to Murray and spun away with a startled cry as a bullet took him in the side of the neck.

Richard blinked then made a move toward Marco.

"Hold it, sir! He's one of ours."

Marco lowered his weapon and heaved a sigh. "I didn't think it would end this way." He said.

"They make the rules, Marco." Murray slapped his back and then introduced Richard. "Now you know why he didn't find our guns, and by the way, I'll take yours, sir."

"You were under cover in Jean's mob?" Richard said, delaying the surrender.

"Not directly but I have been in their network for quite a while now. First time I actually had to shoot somebody though; usually it's not my cohorts." He gave a sheepish smile.

Richard reached back and took out his gun, backing away from Murray. Was there any place the Agency didn't have its tacky fingerprints?

"Please drop that, Marco. And Murray, please don't try what you did to him." Richard nodded toward the body of Marcello.

"Consider your options, sir." Murray saw that Marco still held the gun.

"I have." Richard reached out a hand to René. "Are you okay?" He moved over beside her. She just sat woodenly, staring at the mess that was once Marcello.

"René, c'mon. We have to move."

"You are making an error, sir."

"Won't be the first, Murray. Now back up away from the door." He pulled René up from the chair and guided her ahead of him toward the door.

Murray grabbed Marco and pulled him in front of him while drawing his own gun from his waistband.

"Don't try it, Richard!"

Marco struggled and put Murray off balance as Richard shoved René toward the door. There was a moment of scrambling and Murray managed a shot that just grazed Richard's ear. He fired back, but Murray had ducked behind a surprised Marco.

The bullet hit Marco in the throat and splattered Murray's face. The man suddenly seemed to become awkwardly heavy. In the few seconds it took to clear his vision, Richard and René crashed through the door and out into the night.

"Keep going! Take your shortcut; we need to get to the boat." Richard knelt down and faced the front of the house, waiting.

Murray made certain that Marco was indeed dead then headed for the back of the house and exited through a window into the wild growth of bushes filling the rear of the property. When no one showed, Richard made a run after René and caught up with her half way to the marina.

"He must have gone out the back; we have to hurry."

"That was awful back there," she said, alarmed. "I can't do this, Richard." She began to slow down.

"You can, you can do it. We have to. Please, René, keep going, faster. I promise it will all be okay soon." They came down the path behind Christopher's restaurant and ran past, jumping down onto the dock, heading for the boat.

***************

Murray cursed at himself for not securing his own boat, realizing that they would get away from him again. He stopped and took out his phone and dialed Nathan.

"Not again, Murray." Nathan coughed into the mouthpiece. "This is getting to be a tiresome habit."

He explained what had occurred at the woman's house and the surprise visit from Jean's men, including their mole in the gang, all of whom were now dead.

"What mole?"

"A source I've had for some time, sir. Very low level and not very forthcoming."

Nathan pulled at his chin wondering what else Murray had going that he knew nothing about.

"Her place will need a sweeping, sir."

"Christ, Murray. The cleaners are making more progress than we are! This body count is getting a little out of hand as well. The polizia are turning Genoa into a fortress; soon you won't be able to move at all without questions."

"They are heading back to Genoa now, I'm certain. They took the woman's boat . . . The Swallow."

"And you are telling me this because?"

"Because you could put someone at the marina to greet them, sir. We have assets in Italy that can make a quick arrangement."

"How long do we have?"

"I estimate about forty minutes."

"Christ, Murray. I can't dial someone to get over there faster than that!"

"They still have the bank draft on them, sir." The mention of the money, true or not, accomplished what Murray wanted and Nathan got the point immediately and with a coughing sigh, agreed.

"I'll call as soon as it is arranged."