over. He rang Hutchinson’s number and it went straight to answer phone. Puzzled, he was about to ring reception when he realised Hutchinson’s lap top appeared to be missing. The power cable for it still plugged into the mains. Then he saw the spots of blood on the table and floor and he was rushing for the door. He barged into his room. Natalie was still in her black mini-dress and heels.
“Peter! What the.…?”
“Something’s happened to Jim. That commotion in the corridor! Ring De Luca!”
He rushed out of the room, ran to the elevators and pressed the lift call button. He looked up at the digital display telling him which floors they were on. One was at the lobby. The other on the first floor. He slammed the palm of his hand against the button panel with irritation, briefly looked at the displays once more and ran for the stairs. He burst through the door and looked down. He could see the ground four floors below and could hear heavy footsteps and shouting.
Was that Hutchinson’s voice?
Dennis bolted down the stairs three at a time. He swung the corner and raced down the next steps, always gaining on his opponents. The fact that they might have guns didn’t even cross his mind.
At the ground floor a bruised and panting Hutchinson clung onto the hand rail in desperation and groaned in pain as the butt of a handgun smashed down onto his already battered knuckles forcing him to release his grip.
Dennis could see more spots of blood on the white marble stairs and he jumped down the last flight of steps, landing heavily. He landed harder than he’d intended to and his muscles and tendons screamed at him. His feet were stinging. He gritted his teeth and carried on, slow at first until the numbness wore off. He rounded the last corner and descended the last flight of stairs. Ahead was the already open door that led to the alley outside. It could only be opened from inside and Dennis charged through it. There were some wheelie bins here and a large dumpster. Ahead where the alley ended he could see the men half dragging, half carrying Hutchinson. A dark 4x4 was waiting and they bundled their captive inside. It roared away as Dennis reached the end of the alley at a sprint. It was a dark, possibly black or navy blue BMW X5.
“Damn these Italian registration numbers,” he said out loud, cursing the small numbers that couldn’t be read from very far.
Nearby was a street vendor selling hamburgers and doner kebabs from a window of his fast food venue and Dennis noticed people queuing for a late night snack. There was a scrambler motorcycle parked next to two motor scooters at the kerb. One of the mopeds had a full face helmet on its seat and
Dennis wandered over to the bikes. He was amazed to see the scrambler’s keys were in the ignition. He checked the queue of people and saw the man at the front now being served had a crash helmet in his hand. Dennis picked up the helmet on the moped and put it on. He swung his leg over the saddle of the scrambler, gently leaned his weight until the bike was upright off its parking stand. Then as quietly as he could his foot brought the stand up with a click. Not once taking his eyes of the unsuspecting rider Dennis turned the ignition key and stood up in the saddle and jumped down with all his might onto the kick starter. The engine roared into life and Dennis selected first gear, twisted the accelerator while holding the brake, spun the back wheel round in a semi-circle accompanied with a cloud of black smoke and raced off down the street as the motorbikes owner turned in astonishment with tomato ketchup oozing out of the bottle he was squeezing and dripping onto his clothes.
Peter Dennis kept a big distance from the BMW X5 as it turned into the docks at Naples. He followed slowly and as the X5 turned through a gate with stop barriers he had no choice but to continue straight on. The security guards on the gate watching him as he rode past. He knew he must look out of place riding a scrambler dirt bike with a full faced crash helmet and a dinner suit and he hoped they wouldn’t get suspicious. He’d followed the BMW for the 140 miles from Rome and