Page 70 of Enduring Caine
“There’s an intercom by the door. I can call up to the security desk.”
“There aren’t any cameras in this room, are there?” No cameras meant no evidence.
Henri paused, head dipping forward. “No, there aren’t. I suspect Signore Ferraro holds meetings down here, so there’s security monitoring the first room to watch comings and goings, but… but that’s it.”
“The perfect place to kill someone.”
He turned his head to the side, showing his profile, but not looking back at me. “There are too many of those places here.”
As Henri disappeared around the corner, I did a cursory review of the body without disturbing it. No obvious scratch marks, visible puncture wounds, or tears in his clothing. The angle of his neck wouldn’t have been comfortable for a live person, but it didn’t appear broken. His eyes and mouth were closed, as were his hands.
I scanned the length of his legs, one curled up, the other twisted to the side. Not broken, but—
A flash of white caught my attention, underneath one of his shoes. I got down on my hands and knees to get a closer look in the dim light, which I was mostly blocking out. I reached for it, fingers wrapping around a scrap of paper and I pulled it out.
One inch by two, with words written on it.
Delivery complete. Pickup requested tomorrow.
Was this Johann’s? Tied to the delivery he and Henri were discussing in the kitchen? Were they spies? If it was even a possibility, I couldn’t let Henri know I’d found it. And I couldn’t stay down here alone with him.
I shoved it into my pocket and gave Johann’s body one last glance before following Henri to the exit.
Chapter 31
Antonio
Thewallofscreensshowed every corner of the estate—except inside the bedrooms, just as Cristian had promised me on our first night. Some remained constant, others flipped between cameras. Two men worked the desk, a dramatic change from my days when there were half as many cameras and twice as many men working for Zio Giovanni.
Leonardo pointed to a screen. “That one. Bring it to the center and back it up an hour. Find the timestamp where the crates arrived. I want to see him plant the device.”
The camera was tiny and, if we were lucky, it would be too small to make out. If it was clear, what could I do? My heart thundered in my chest. I’d warned her but given in to her excitement and went along with the scheme.
“Now scan forward,” said Leo.
The video showed the group of us in the gallery, Samantha carrying her wineglass as she and Cesca moved through the room. She had one arm folded up to hold the glass, the other playing with her necklace. The video fast-forwarded, went past the crate delivery and we watched everyone head out.
“Back it up to before the crates arrived,” said Leo.
I could delay this search, but Leo wouldn’t give it up forever. I could declare we were leaving at that second, but it would be too suspicious. If they discovered she’d been taking photographs, was it best to tell them she was FBI? Cristian had asked if she was with the authorities over and over, so they might believe it. We could contact Elliot and have him whisk her away.
Not just her—both of us. If they knew I’d been part of the plan, my presumption of safety might be incorrect.
Surely they wouldn’t kill an FBI agent.
Marone, hopefully they wouldn’t hurt her.
Cristian said, “Stop there.”
The two men arrived through the doors of the gallery, and the dance began. My eyes stayed on Samantha. Her back to the camera, nearing the men with the crate while Giovanni railed against them for their arrival. He gestured for everyone to leave, and she began walking toward the exit.
Rapid movement on one display competed for my attention, but I kept my eyes on Samantha’s movements.
“I need help in the wine cellar!” came a voice over an intercom. It was Henri.
I slammed a hand down on the controls for the main display to pause the video and hit a button to open communication with the wine cellar. “Is Samantha alright?”
“She’s safe,” said Henri.