They had removed the grate the day before and it was still off. In the deepest shadow, it was impossible to notice unless one was looking for it. The shaft was located above and came in on the same side where the doorbell was. She glanced at her watch.
The alcove was lit by the fountain. It was made of marble and stood right in the center, a freestanding rather beautiful fountain. Water burst from the spouts and rained down in a series of colors. It splashed down the layers, little mini waterfalls that eventually ended up in a circular narrow ring around the fountain itself. The colors of the fountain lit the alcove, and the water sounded peaceful and soothing. Aldo had bought the fountain for Lydia because she loved water so much.
Lissa liked it because the sound of the water would hopefully cover any sounds made when she revealed herself.
Target’s vehicle just pulled in. Target is out and heading up the stairs, one bodyguard moving ahead of him fast, and another behind him.
Her heart jumped and then settled into a natural rhythm. She kept breathing, slow and even. The bodyguard came first, checking out the alcove, waving his boss forward while he proceeded down the hall. The second bodyguard had stopped just at the top of the stairs, guarding the door to the stairway. With a guard on either side of the hall, no one would get past them to cause their boss harm.
Aldo came next, a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He stepped into the recess of the alcove and instantly was out of sight of his bodyguards. Lissa took a deep breath. Held it. Timing was everything. Aldo jabbed his finger on the button to ring the bell. Instantly it shorted, shocking him, creating a blackened circle on the surface. He jumped back and as he did, Lissa exploded out of the shaft, slamming her head into his chest, driving him backward toward the fountain. Her hands caught his head and, using her weight and momentum, slammed his skull into the already broken and jagged fountain.
Flowers fell to the floor. Aldo’s body slid down the marble slowly, a dead weight. She went with it, reaching to feel his pulse. The spike of rebar exposed by the earlier break had gone into the back of his neck and his head had hit hard on the marble, shattering his skull. He was dead before he slid to the floor.
Lissa was up instantly, turning and leaping for the shaft, dragging herself inside and refitting the grate. It took precious seconds to slide the screws in using a special tool she’d made just for such jobs, a tool that could reach through small holes and do the work quickly.
Target down. I’m on my way out.
The drop of the body had made noise. She knew that it would. The bodyguards might have heard it over the fountain, so she wanted to move quickly and get to the parking garage on the first floor and get out of there before his body was discovered. She especially wanted Casimir out of there. Even looking like Steve from Philadelphia, he would come under suspicion. The bodyguards would be suspicious of anyone, but especially a man.
Aldo Porcelli was the head of a very large crime organization. No one would rule out foul play until they absolutely had to. It was a bizarre accident, and that was what made it so believable. She scooted faster, still taking care not to make a sound. She was past the second-story garage and on the main floor when she heard the scream. A high-pitched wail of pure grief. She knew that sound. She’d made it as a child when Porcelli’s men had killed her family. She closed her eyes briefly, but kept moving fast.
Roving bodyguard and the one by the car have been called upstairs, Casimir reported.
Again he sounded matter-of-fact, not in the least anxious. He didn’t ask where she was, or how long she was going to be, but, like her, he was on the move, she could tell by his voice. She had only a short distance to go and she kept up her slow, steady pace, making certain not to make even the smallest noise. The wailing continued and it was loud enough to draw out other residents.
Lissa made it to the grate and found Casimir had already removed it. She slid out, turned and lifted the cover, turning the small screws with her little tool almost in one motion. Casimir had the car right next to her, running, door open when she looked up. She dove in and removed her cap, allowing the black hair to fall around her face. She had drawn up a long, lacy black flowing skirt, scattered with bright flowers and removed her crepe shoes before they hit the street. The little ballet slippers went into her small purse and she put on boots. They were knee-high, black and had false laces up the front and a ruffle down the back. The zippers were on the side.
“Seat belt,” Casimir clipped.
She glared at him. “The stop is right up the street.”
“Seat belt,” he snapped again.
She looked up at his face. Grim. Holding it together by a thread. That didn’t bode well for their job in St. Petersburg. She had to be the one exposing herself to danger there as well. She hadn’t sought the Sorbacovs out – although she’d made certain she was written up in their papers repeatedly. They’d taken the bait and contacted her. She’d taken their bait and replied. She sighed, snapped the belt in place and allowed herself a deep breath.