The Shroud Key by Vincent Zandri Read Free Book Online Page B

translucent six inch ruler.
    “I thought you were a burglar,” he says, panting. “Or perhaps, a rapist.”
    “You’ve got some spunk, Einstein, I’ll give you that. We’re the good guys. The bad guys are on the other side of this wall. Think you can call security for us?”
    His eyes light up. He glances at my gun.
    “I haven’t had this much fun since I earned my PhD in Physics forty years ago,” he smiles.
    “We’re going to leave now,” I say, crossing the office and joining Anya at the door.
    “Go, go,” the professor insists, picking up the phone on his desk, punching in a number. “I’m calling security. In the meantime, if they come through that vent, I’ll be waiting for them.” He raises up his free arm and makes a muscle under his jacket sleeve. Like I said, he’s got some spunk.
    “Sorry for the intrusion,” I say.
    “No worries. You made my day.”
    He begins speaking into the phone in Italian. I take hold of the door opener, slowly twist the knob, pull the door open, poke my head outside into the hall. I look both ways for a man dressed entirely in black.
    “All clear,” I say. “We’ll take the stairs.”
    “Roger that, Chase.”
    “Roger that?”
    Holding her hand, we step out into the hall, and take it double-time all the way to the stairwell.
    Down on the first floor, we head back out into the street.
    People surround us on all sides. Students mostly, carrying books, canvases, sketch pads, knapsacks. Always moving about in pairs or groups. They stare at us with curiosity and perhaps even a little fear as they pass.
    I grab Anya by the shoulders.
    “We need to get back to my apartment while our tail is still busy upstairs with security. After that we’ll have to find another place to hold up. The apartment isn’t safe anymore now that I know you’re being followed.”
    “I’m sorry. I just had no way of knowing.”
    “Don’t be sorry. Goes with the territory. Sad thing is, that man probably isn’t the only one watching you.” Removing my hands. “Let’s move.”
    “I’m right on your ass,” she smiles.
    “Now who’s the pig, Anya Manion?” I say.
    We run.

CHAPTER NINE
    The door to my apartment is open.
    Correction, the door has been jimmied open.
    “Stay here,” I say, turning to Anya. “Whoever did this could still be inside.”
    “Not on your life, Ren Man,” she says, following me into the vestibule.
    Reaching into my bomber, I pull out my 9 mm, thumb off the safety. Taking a slow second step into the vestibule, I move on into the living room, scanning it with the gun barrel. I then head on across the dining room and into the kitchen. Both appear to be empty. Opening the door onto the terrace, I can see that no one is hiding out there either.
    “Lu,” I say, not loud, but loud enough for the pit bull to hear me.
    That’s when I hear the noise coming from the other side of the apartment.
    “Bedroom?” Anya says. It’s both a statement and a question.
    I run from the kitchen to the vestibule just as he’s coming out the bedroom door. A big man, dressed in dark clothes. He raises up an automatic, aims the business end for the center of my chest. Pointblank.
    I stop.
    The shot from his gun echoes throughout the apartment, the bullet nicking the wood beam over my head. Sucking in a breath, I lower my aim, depress the trigger, and shoot his left leg out from under him.
    The search for Andre and Jesus has just gone nuclear.
    Both Anya and I go to the big wounded man, where he lies on the stone, vestibule floor.
    “Grab his gun,” I say.
    She does it.
    I drop down onto one knee, press my still smoking barrel against his forehead.
    “Who do you work for?”
    He’s clutching at his bleeding leg.
    “Go to hell,” he says, his accent distinctly Italian.
    I cock back the hammer.
    “Una volta,” I shout. “One more time … Who sent you?”
    “One more time,” he says through grinding teeth. “Go. To. Hell.”
    I slide the barrel away from his