know how well I secured him,’ Victor said back. ‘He couldn’t have made much of a noise and I muffled his ears so he wouldn’t know what was happening around him. Besides, I told him if I heard him so much as clear his throat I’d kill him like I did his five friends, only I would take my time. He believed me.’
‘I’m sure he did. What about the garage’s CCTV?’
‘The system was basic. Cameras covered the ramps and ticket machines but there were a number of blind spots.’
‘And what if the car’s owner has driven it away?’
‘The Alfa Romeo is part of a crime scene, as you said. Rome PD will maintain the integrity of the scene for at least twelve hours before letting cars leave. That gives you six hours to make sure your guy is first on scene when they do. And I’m sure the owner of the vehicle could be persuaded to let you borrow it for an hour if an incentive is offered. But it’s up to you how you sort it out.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’
‘Because I’m telling you now,’ Victor said. ‘Time’s up. I need to get back.’
FORTY-FOUR
Victor woke at 6 a.m. An hour’s sleep was not enough to recharge him after the escapades of the previous day, but he wanted to be up before his three teammates. Specifically, he didn’t want to be asleep while they were awake. He remained in his room until he heard Dietrich’s door open opposite, and then the heavy footfalls of Jaeger a while later. Victor waited another ten minutes and then headed downstairs.
It was cool in the kitchen. Light streamed in through the window above the sink. He filled a cast iron kettle with water and placed it on the stove. In a cupboard, he found a cafetiere and a hand grinder and downstairs in the single-room cellar he located a one-kilogram sack of roasted coffee beans, of which he took a handful. They smelt fantastic.
The cellar was at least ten degrees lower in temperature than the kitchen and made a reasonable cool room. He dropped the beans into a pocket of his trousers, slipped a packet of butter into the other, tucked a loaf of bread under his left arm and in his left hand picked up a tray of large brown hen’s eggs.
Coughlin was sat at the table when Victor re-entered the kitchen. He had left the cellar door open, but still hadn’t heard the Brit. Coughlin was not as physically dangerous as Dietrich or Jaeger, and though young he was measured and reputedly good with a rifle and quiet. Victor made a mental note to kill him at close range, when the time came.
‘Making coffee?’
Victor nodded. ‘How do you take it?’
‘As nature intended. Looks like you’re going to make breakfast too.’
There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice. Victor nodded again.
‘Scrambled egg on toast then, mate,’ Coughlin said, then added: ‘Cheers.’
Victor ground the coffee beans. He stood to the left of the sink so he could see Coughlin’s reflection in the window while he had his back to him. Coughlin picked at his nails and tossed the fragments to the floor. He didn’t look up at Victor once.
While he waited for the kettle to boil he cracked eggs into a glass bowl and whisked them with butter and a little water because there had been no milk in the basement, before adding black pepper and salt. He cooked the mixture in a copper skillet while he sliced bread and toasted it.
The kettle took a long time to boil because Victor had filled it with twice as much water as he needed. It started hissing as he placed the scrambled eggs on toast on the table before Coughlin, who wasted no time hacking off a chunk.
‘It’s good,’ he said, chewing.
Victor prepared the coffee and left it to brew for five minutes while he made some breakfast for himself. He poured them both a cup and sat down perpendicular to Coughlin, at one end of the table, his back to the stove and facing the door that led outside.
‘Ah, that’s the shit,’ Coughlin said after his first slurp. ‘Much better than that horrible sludge Dietrich makes.’
‘Where is he?’ Victor asked.
‘Probably running.’
‘Jaeger?’
Coughlin shrugged and shook his head. ‘He’s always in the barn.’
‘What’s he doing in there?’
‘How would I know?’ He gulped down some more coffee. ‘You should ask Dietrich to make you a cup just so you can see how bad it is.’