only information he had on the prospective client. The lear jet came to a complete stop.
Bonomi waited and watched for a few moments and was about to move forward when he heard the sound of approaching vehicles. He turned to look towards the gates. Three black Hummer H3’s had entered the airfield and drove towards him in single file. They pulled up quickly and as Bonomi watched their occupants get out and spread themselves out. Bonomi sprang forward but stopped as the aircraft door opened and the steps began to descend. He remained where he was. One man from the lead Hummer came towards him. Bonomi grabbed the folder from the Alfa’s front passenger seat and moved forward putting on his warmest smile. He extended his hand in a friendly gesture.
The man approaching him had very short dark hair and was wearing dark sunglasses. He and all his men were wearing black combat shirts and trousers. Bonomi had expected men in suits. This was like something out of the movies.
His outstretched hand was ignored as the man facing him held out his hand for the folder. Bonomi handed it over in silence. He suddenly felt nervous and glanced at the lear jet. The open door and steps seemed like an invitation. Bonomi puffed out his chest and put his hands together in front of his waist. Bonomi glanced nervously over his shoulders at the men searching around. One even had a quick glance in Bonomi’s car. They moved away to begin searching the outbuildings. Finally the cold features of Anatoly Petrov looked up from the file and stared at Bonomi. There was no emotion in the black eyes.
“Nice day,” Bonomi said, trying to break the stalemate.
The cold eyes remained fixed on him. Then they moved past the estate agent as one of Petrov’s men gave the thumbs up. Petrov nodded. He held the folder up.
“Is this everything?”
“Yes sir. My name is Carlo Bonomi of the Centauro property services. Yes all the details are there.”
Petrov ran his eyes over the contents of the file again. Bonomi studied the man, very afraid of him. Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw a face at a window on the learjet before the shutter came down. Bonomi couldn’t be sure but he thought the face was disfigured somehow, possibly scarred.
“Were you followed?” Petrov asked.
“Followed?” Bonomi glanced about nervously. This whole situation was getting weirder by the minute.
“Followed by who?”
Petrov snapped the folder shut.
“No matter.”
He beckoned another man forward. One who had been hovering near the lead Hummer. This man was carrying a black briefcase. He popped the locks open and raised the lid. The case was presented to Bonomi at chest height and he looked down at used Euro notes.
“You’ll want to check it,” Petrov said.
Bonomi shook his head.
“I’m sure it’s all there.”
The case was closed and Bonomi took it. Petrov handed the folder to his aide who took it to the aircraft. The man returned shortly and gave the folder to Petrov. The Russian opened it to show Bonomi the signed document. The estate agent nodded. Petrov snapped the folder shut again and handed it to the Italian.
“I guess that concludes our business, “ Bonomi said.
“Not quite,” Petrov said. He reached down into the side pocket of his combat trousers and produced a large padded jiffy bag. He tossed it to Bonomi who had to catch it to stop it from hitting him in the chest.
“Open it,” the Russian ordered.
Bonomi did as he was told.
“There are two thousand Euro’s there,” Petrov said, “No questions. No answers. Understood.”
The Italian nodded nervously. Petrov merely smirked then beckoned to his men. They moved towards him as the learjet’s engines started. The steps were retracted and the small jet began to move across the grass. They all watched until it disappeared into the sun. Then Petrov looked at Bonomi once more and got into the lead Hummer, his men following. The Hummer’s moved off towards the hangar. Bonomi put the case into his car, started it up and left the airfield as quickly as he could. He didn’t even stop to close the gates.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Officer Gianni Balotelli of the Carabinieri glanced at his watch. It would soon be time for his break. He patrolled a section of the A12, a major road in the Lazio region of Italy. Speeding tickets were his thing and there was a particular section of the highway which had a long hill that articulated lorries struggled