Licence To Howl by Helen Harper

Chapter Ten

Devereau had estimatedthat it would take Solentino around three hours to return to them. In the end it was less than two. He’d obviously not wasted any time in finding out all he could about his two visitors. Devereau had to trust that Scarlett had been circumspect indeed about the reasons for her appearance in Rome, and that there was no obvious trace of his own involvement with MI5 despite what Scarlett herself had managed to uncover by following him around London.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Solentino declared, when he opened the door to the little room and reappeared in front of them, ‘that I’m not giving you a very positive view of Italian hospitality. It’s almost lunch time. Some friends of mine have dropped by. Why don’t you come through and join us for something to eat?’

‘How thoughtful of you,’ Scarlett cooed. She rose elegantly from her chair. ‘I was beginning to feel a bit peckish.’

Solentino smiled at them both but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Devereau felt a chill in the pit of his stomach. Despite the show they’d put on earlier, they were still being tested. He hoped Scarlett realised that.

‘Then, Miss Cook,’ Solentino said, using Scarlett’s surname although she’d not told him it herself, ‘come with me. I’m sure you’ll appreciate what I have to offer.’ He stepped back and held the door open for them.

Devereau and Scarlett exchanged quick looks. Solentino was deliberately letting them know that he’d been looking deeper at both of their identities. Devereau wasn’t surprised that he’d done so, but he was mildly taken aback that he was being so open about it.

They walked out, following Solentino’s lead. Devereau noted a closed door behind them, at the far end of the apartment, plus what looked like two bedrooms as well as the lounge and the kitchen. Solentino bypassed them all and took them to a sunlit room towards the front of the apartment. There was a long table which was already set. Hunks of bread and a platter of various cheeses, olives and meats sat in the centre, and four unfriendly looking men were seated along the far side. Solentino indicated towards two of the vacant chairs. Scarlett and Devereau did as they were bade and sat down, just as Alina herself wafted in through another door.

‘Well!’ she said, clapping her hands. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Mr Webb!’

He smiled at her. ‘It’s good to get the opportunity to talk to you again.’

‘Indeed.’ Her eyes flicked to Scarlett. ‘Hello.’

Solentino lifted up his chin. ‘Alina,’ he murmured. There was obviously some kind of unspoken command in his voice.

She nodded at him and began unbuttoning her pretty white blouse. Devereau was baffled. Was she about to strip off? Was this some kind of kinky side-show as a prelude to lunch?

Alina walked over to Scarlett’s chair and knelt down, leaning her head to the side and exposing her bare neck and shoulder. ‘Please.’

Identical expressions of eagerness lit the faces of the four men opposite. Devereau concealed his disgust and snuck a quick look at Solentino. He was watching Alina’s every move but his expression was giving nothing away. Scarlett hesitated for a moment. Then she dipped her head towards Alina’s neck.

Alina let out a tiny moan as Scarlett’s single fang pierced her skin. Her hand reached out, grabbing Scarlett’s wrist and encircling it, her knuckles turning pure white as she tightened her grip. The four seated men leaned forward. Devereau thought he saw a trickle of drool in the corner of the mouth of the nearest one. He tried desperately hard not to let his disgust show. After several painfully long seconds, Scarlett pulled back, her mouth stained red with Alina’s blood.

‘That was worth the price of admission alone, wouldn’t you say?’ Solentino asked.

‘Absolutely,’ replied the heaviest set man, a glint of lasciviousness in his gaze as he stared at Scarlett’s lips. The others nodded vigorously.

Solentino picked up a white napkin and handed it to Alina. ‘Tidy yourself up,’ he told her. Then he walked to the head of the table and sat down as if a vampire feeding publicly on his maybe-not-girlfriend was an everyday occurrence.

Alina pressed the napkin to the tiny wound on her neck and stood up. She looked pale and shaky. Initially, Devereau thought her physical reaction was from terror but, when he saw the look on her face, he realised he was wrong. It wasn’t fear she felt; it was desire.

‘I enjoyed that,’ she whispered.

Scarlett smiled primly. To anyone who didn’t know her, they’d assume she was demurely grateful for Alina’s blood. Devereau knew differently. He was well aware that inside Scarlett was seething. ‘Most people find it a pleasurable experience,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your blood.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Alina gazed at Scarlett with slightly glazed eyes and then stumbled over to the chair directly opposite from Solentino before she did up the buttons on her blouse.

‘I know how to please a vampire,’ Solentino said. ‘I’m less clear about how to meet the needs of a werewolf, however.’

Devereau pointed at the artfully arranged slices of meat. ‘These will do me,’ he said. With any luck, Solentino wouldn’t produce any live animals up for him to slaughter as the part of the second act of this bizzare luncheon.

Solentino’s mouth twitched, as if he knew exactly what Devereau was thinking. ‘Very well then.’ He gestured magnanimously towards the table. ‘Help yourselves.’

It wasn’t until everyone filled their plates that Solentino spoke again. ‘So Scarlett,’ he drawled, ‘you work for Lord Horvath in London.’

Here we go, Devereau thought.

‘Yes,’ Scarlett said. ‘I do.’ She took a sip from the wine glass in front of her. ‘Fortunately, he allows me considerable leeway with other ventures as long as they don’t conflict with the interest of the London vampires.’

‘I see.’ Solentino’s eyes were intently focused on her. ‘What about the vampires in Rome? Or Berlin? Or Paris? Would he care about them?’

‘Not particularly. I’m loyal to my Lord but Lukas Horvath doesn’t give two hoots what I do in Italy. Or in Germany. Or in France. Or indeed anywhere that’s not London.’

‘I see.’ Solentino nodded thoughtfully. Then he turned his attention to Devereau. ‘Is that why you’re working in Rome rather than London, Mr Webb? Is it purely because you are attempting to remain under the radar of the London werewolves?’

‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘the London clans can do and think whatever the fuck they want. They’ve not exactly welcomed me into the lupine fold with open arms. Contact them and tell them whatever you want about me. They’re not my concern.’

‘Interesting. I thought that loyalty to their own kind was the most valuable commodity which werewolves possessed.’

Devereau was suddenly aware that he was treading on dangerous ground. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I have loyalty in spades. I will give it and I will expect it in return. But not from the London clans. Loyalty is not something which I take lightly so I’m more than a little circumspect when it comes to deciding who I pledge allegiance to.’

Something dark flared in Solentino’s expression and, for a disheartening moment, Devereau thought he’d misjudged his words and had sounded too slick to be genuine. Instead, however, the Italian turned to the four men seated down the far length of the table. ‘That wolf understands the value of loyalty. He knows it is not something to be taken for granted. Even the vampire has her own appreciation for it.’

The atmosphere in the sunny room suddenly dipped several degrees. Two of the men froze in mid-chew. The other two stared at Solentino. He acted as if he didn’t notice. ‘I’ve been remiss in not introducing you to my lunch guests, Mr Webb. Miss Cook.’ Solentino raised his fork and jabbed it towards each of the men in turn. ‘Mike Lancaster. He’s from Australia originally so don’t get him started on cricket. Then there’s our resident Yank, Rick Moore.’ Solentino glanced at Devereau. ‘Don’t get him started on cricket either. He doesn’t understand it at all.’

‘Who does?’ Devereau asked in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the air.

Solentino ignored his interjection. ‘The big guy next to Rick is Rospo Accetta. And you’ve met Alina Bonnet already, of course.’ Solentino moved his fork in the direction of the last man. ‘Finally we have Geraint Vissier. We call him Gee for short.’

‘How fabulous to meet you all,’ Scarlett said, sounding for all the world as if she meant it.

‘Likewise,’ Devereau added.

‘I wouldn’t waste time getting to know them too well,’ Solentino said. ‘Not all of them anyway.’ He was still staring at Vissier. He speared a cube of cheese and popped into his mouth without taking his eyes from the man even once. Vissier hadn’t appeared to notice. He was carefully using a white linen handkerchief to rub at a tiny blemish on his fork. He was sat ramrod straight, with the posture of the dancer, the starched clothes of a waiter, and the obliviousness of an idiot.

‘Tell us, Gee,’ Solentino murmured, ‘what does loyalty mean to you?’

Devereau was suddenly aware that to his left Alina was carefully placing her knife and fork down on the table and sitting back.

‘Boss?’ Vissier asked nervously, napkin and fork still in hand. ‘You know I’m loyal.’ He sounded Dutch. Or maybe South African.

‘I asked you what loyalty means to you, not whether you’re loyal,’ Solentino said, with a dangerous glint. ‘Interesting that you should think I’m questioning your personal allegiance. Do you have reason to believe I should question it? Have you been naughty, Gee?’

Vissier began to stutter. ‘N – n – n – no.’

Devereau flicked his gaze towards the other men. Rospo Accetta and Rick Moore had managed to swallow their mouthfuls of food and were watching their boss with silent wariness. Despite their burly, masculine facades they both looked anxious. It was the Australian, Mike Lancaster, who caught Devereau’s attention, however. His hands were twitching and his eyes kept straying to the door. He was looking for an escape route. Perhaps this little show wasn’t about Vissier at all.

Solentino placed his fork onto his plate and stood up, placing his hands in his trouser pockets. If he was attempting to act casual, he was failing dramatically. He loomed over the table and held everyone’s full attention. Devereau had met a lot of dangerous people in his time and they rarely impressed him - but the menace which exuded from Solentino was quite extraordinary.

‘You see,’ Solentino drawled, ‘it’s come to my attention, Gee, that somebody has been speaking to the Greeks. Stefan Avanopoulos phoned me this morning and mentioned that he’d be able to help with our German transportation issues now that Bartan is out of action. He even said that he would be able to transport materials to any city of my choice, be it Paris, Berlin or London. Those were his words. Not mine.’ Solentino raised his thin eyebrows at Vissier. ‘You know Avanopoulos, don’t you, Gee?’

Vissier swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘I have met him once or twice. I don’t know him.’

‘You’re not friends?’

‘No!’

‘You don’t work together?’

‘No, boss. Never.’ Vissier’s eyes shone with fervent denial.

‘You don’t pass him information from time to time? As a friendly gesture?’

‘No.’ Vissier’s hands came together in plea. ‘I would not betray you, boss. Please believe me.’

Solentino pursed his mouth. From underneath the table, Devereau felt Scarlett’s knee nudge his. He dropped his hand and sought hers out, squeezing her fingers in warning. Whatever was going on here, they couldn’t get involved. There was no intervention would help anyone’s cause. Quite the opposite in fact. Anything they did to interrupt Solentino right now could cause irreparable and potentially life threatening damage – not to mention that there had to be a reason why he was calling out his own people right in front of them.

‘You know what, Gee?’ Solentino said.

‘Wh – what?’

‘I believe you. You’re right. You are loyal.’

The air seemed to sag out of Vissier’s body. ‘Yes. Yes! I am loyal! Thank you, boss. Thank you. I –’

‘But, you, Mike,’ Solentino’s tone was sad, ‘you are not loyal like Gee is.’

The Australian, whose eyes had been fixated on the door until that moment, began to rise out of his chair.

Solentino jerked his chin at Accetta, who turned to his companion and forced him down again. ‘I’ve told you before that coordination between us is key. It wasn’t merely the events of 9/11 alone which struck terror into the hearts of people all around the world. Or 7/7. Or the Paris attacks. It was the way in which all these events were coordinated. Chain reactions of fear,’ he said grandly. ‘Our plans must be coordinated and our group must be coordinated also. You, Mike, you are not coordinated. Not with me. Not with us.’

He paused for effect, while the Australian’s obvious anxiety escalated. Devereau was feeling much the same. 9/11? 7/7? Paris? Was this bastard planning something as horrific as those attacks?

Solentino stared at Mike Lancaster. Everyone else stared at Solentino. ‘I know you’ve been speaking to Avanopoulos behind my back.’

‘No! I mean, I spoke to him last week but it wasn’t behind your back. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I thought he might be able to help us with the project next month. He has contacts and –’

‘So you did go behind my back,’ Solentino said silkily. ‘You just admitted it.’

‘I didn’t tell him anything! We’ve been having issues with transporting all the goods and he has access to boats that could help. All I did was approach him about maybe moving some of the boxes for us and sourcing the last few items.’

‘You should know by now, Mike, that you don’t speak to anyone without my permission. Not ever.’ Solentino got to his feet, strolled over to the Australian’s chair and stood behind him, placing both his hands on his shoulders.

‘I get that now. I won’t do it again. It was a mistake on my part.’

‘You’re sorry?’

‘Very sorry.’

Solentino’s hands squeezed down. It was obvious from Mike Lancaster’s wince that it was painful.

‘Please, boss,’ he said in a strained voice.

‘Do you think I will hurt you?’ Solentino asked, suddenly removing his hands. ‘In front of our two supernatural guests who may or may not be trustworthy? Do you really think I’d do that?’

Lancaster gasped audibly in relief. ‘I –’

‘Because you’re right,’ Solentino said, pulling out a thin wire from his right hand pocket. ‘I absolutely would do that.’ And in one swift movement he looped the garrotte round Lancaster’s neck and pulled hard.

The Australian choked, his fingers automatically rising to his neck in a vain bid to stop the wire from strangling him. His eyes began to bulge. Underneath the table, Scarlett’s fingers gripped Devereau’s, clinging on tight. Solentino continued to pull on the garrotte, his own gaze lifting to meet that of Devereau’s.

Hot pain jabbed in between Devereau’s shoulder blades, and the animal inside him began to stir. He wanted to rush at Solentino, to rise up and attack him and stop what he was doing regardless of Sarah Greensmith’s orders to the contrary. But from beneath the sounds of Mike Lancaster’s hissed splutterings there was an audible click. Any normal set of ears wouldn’t have picked it up but Devereau’s werewolf senses had heard it and he knew exactly what it was. At least one of the other men, probably Rospo Accetta, had a gun underneath that table. Devereau would lay even money on the fact that it contained silver ammunition. Solentino had enough contacts and enough notice to obtain some. No matter how much Devereau wanted to break his cover to save a man he didn’t know and wouldn’t like if he did, it would end up in a bullet for either him or Scarlett. The odds were not in their favour. He was certain that Solentino would already have other contingencies in place. Both he and Scarlett had to see this through; there was no other choice.

Mike Lancaster didn’t die easily. It took far longer than any of them wanted it to. When the light finally dimmed in his eyes and his body went limp, Solentino released his grip on the lethal wire and stepped back. Lancaster’s head slumped forward, landing onto the plate he’d been eating from mere moments before. Alina reached down into a bag at her feet and pulled out a tiny bottle of hand sanitiser. She passed it silently over to Solentino who accepted it with a slight frown.

‘I told you to get the stuff with aloe vera in. It’s better for my skin.’

She licked her lips. ‘I’ll get some next time I’m out,’ she said quietly.

‘See that you do.’ Solentino squeezed out a small amount and rubbed it into his palms.

‘What are you going to do about the Greek?’ Alina asked. ‘Because we still have transport problems and he is in a position to help us with those.’

Solentino frowned. Then he turned to Vissier. ‘Give Avanopoulos a call this afternoon.’

‘Boss?’

‘Mike was right. So’s Alina. That Greek prick does have what we need to solve our current issues. See if he can meet our schedule. Now that the Ring of All Seasons is in my possession,’ he glanced at Devereau, ‘almost in my possession,’ he amended, ‘we need to step things up and make sure we don’t lose any time between now and D-Day. We plan for success and then allow the ring to confirm that success for us before we proceed.’

Scarlett reached across Devereau and picked up a slice of crusty bread which sat on a platter not far from Mike Lancaster’s unseeing eyes. ‘It sounds as if you have something very big brewing.’ She calmly spread some butter onto the slice before taking a bite. Then her eyes met Solentino’s.

‘We do indeed, Miss Cook. We do indeed.’ He nodded at Alina and she dipped into her bag once again, taking out a narrow white cardboard box and passing it to Devereau. ‘Those are for you, Mr Webb. A few laxatives should hurry things along somewhat. It’s best that you finish your food first, however. It’s better not to take them on an empty stomach.’ He motioned towards the various plates with a vague smile. ‘Eat up.’