An hour later, they were winding through the very same EUR neighborhood where Garrett had left the slain bodies, headed to the one skyscraper in all of Rome, the Eurosky Tower.
Completed in 2013, it wasn’t without controversy, as every building in Rome by law must remain lower than the basilica of the Holy See. It didn’t matter that the building in question was almost an hour away from the Vatican. Rome had its prestige to keep in mind, but that didn’t stop the real estate mavens trying to make a buck. Built as a “live-work-play” concept in an area named the “Europark” business park, it was a supposedly green building, with giant solar panels on the roof of the tower and multiple amenities to entice a potential resident to travel south from the city center to live.
Looping through the EUR neighborhood on Via Cristoforo Colombo, they crossed a lake that spread across a park, then by the Airstream trailer, still surrounded by police tape.
Raphael said, “Did you see that? Apparently, there’s some sicko out here killing women because he can.” He paused, then said, “I’d like to meet that man one day. Show him some justice.”
Garrett watched the Airstream trailer disappear behind them, then said, “How is that different from what we’re about to do?”
Taken aback, Raphael said, “We aren’t taking life for the pleasure of it. We’re doing it for a greater purpose. We’re bringing about the second coming and ridding the world of heretics and unbelievers. Those dead women helped no one and the man who did it was not working with God. We’re creating paradise, not murdering unsuspecting innocents.”
Garrett smiled, his lips curling with little joy. He said, “We’re doing both. In order to create paradise, some unsuspecting innocents will be martyred, but don’t think for a minute that He will forgive us for our sins. We’ll surely suffer just as the martyrs we have taken.”
The three Turtles remained silent at his words, the tension growing thick, all of them unsure how to answer. Garrett saw them glancing at each other and realized he might have overstepped his leadership role by explaining the truth to them. Sometimes it was better to keep the troops about to fight in the dark on the odds of survival. Something he’d learned early on in Iraq.
He broke the silence, getting them back into the mission. “The letter is ready to go?”
“Yes. But I’m not sure why we didn’t just use the one we had planned for the ambassador. What’s up with all the homosexual stuff? Is that necessary?”
“Gabrielle is a lesbian. Islam hates that. It will factor in, especially by the means of death. Trust me, it’s necessary.”
Raphael nodded, and Garrett said, “And the Misbaha? We have that ready to drop?”
Donatello said, “The what?”
Exasperated, Garrett said, “The Muslim prayer beads. The ones you were given in Syria as a gift. I want to leave them as well. Leave no doubt about who did this.”
Donatello said, “Oh, yeah. I’ve got them.”
Garrett turned to him and said, “You’re about to fly to the cell in Bahrain. I would expect you to know the Islamic term for them just like you do the rosary. You said you studied.”
Donatello ducked his head, saying, “I did study. I’m ready. If it had come up, I would have done what you said and simply told them we didn’t use them in Bosnia.”
They exited the expansive tree-lined park in the EUR, passing by the PalaLottomatica sports and music arena, the Eurosky Tower stabbing the sky on their right about a mile away. Raphael changed the subject, saying, “Are we going to leave the letter in the apartment?”
“No. I want a statement. We’ll meet her, she’ll offer drinks, and then we’ll go out onto the balcony.”
He continued, telling them his plan and dividing up tasks. They nodded, asking questions about escape and other details. By the time they pulled into the circle drive of the Eurosky, they were ready.
Chapter 19
They parked out front, giving the valet a story of why they were here and that they had permission to leave the vehicle where it was. He didn’t question them, and they left the car where it stood. They went into the lobby of the residential tower, seeing an architecture of a modern bent, all glass, understated wood, and gleaming chrome, but far removed from the Italian historic flair.
Garrett approached the security desk, gave his name and the person whom he was meeting, but not the one that he was actually seeing. In order to reach Gabrielle’s apartment clean, he had to get past the guard, who would log them in like everyone else, and then past the security cameras, which would record them for posterity, and he couldn’t do it using her name for the police to find, so he’d called up an American friend who had an apartment in the building.
The man was in the United States, but had told Garrett that if he ever needed a place to stay, his apartment was always open. Earlier today, he’d taken the man up on the offer, and now he was hoping the friend had sent in the security clearance for them to enter.
The security guard scrolled through the computer, causing sweat to break out on Garrett’s head. He prayed that Gabrielle hadn’t done the same thing. She’d told him to call when he arrived, using the phone from this very desk and she’d talk to the guard. If she’d put in a pass and he was on it, they were done.
After what seemed like an eternity, the guard found the visitor’s pass in the name of the friend. He printed out a piece of paper with a bar code for the elevator. Garrett thanked him and they entered the building proper, moving to the elevators in full view of the cameras.
Exiting on the twenty-fifth floor, they went past the apartment printed on the visitor’s pass and entered the stairwell, walking up the two flights to the twenty-seventh floor. Stopping just outside the exit, Garrett pulled open a backpack and withdrew a ski mask, pulling it over his head. The other three Turtles did the same. When they were ready, he opened the door to the stairwell, facing the one camera near them.
They went past it at a trot, traveling to the end of the hallway, out of its view. Once there, Garrett paused outside the door, looking at his men. He saw saucers for eyes. He removed his ski mask and they did the same.
He said, “Calm down, Turtles. This is easy. Just follow the plan.”
They nodded and he knocked on the door.
He felt someone on the other side, and then it was opened by a plain-looking woman in a nondescript pantsuit. Short hair and bare minimum of makeup, just like he remembered in Syria.
Smiling, she said, “Garrett, it’s been too long.”
He said, “Hey, Gabrielle. Thanks for seeing us.”
She hesitated for a moment, then said, “How’d you get up here? I didn’t get a call?”
He sheepishly held his arms out and said, “All we did was say we were here to see you. He gave us a pass and sent us on our way.”
She swung the door wide with a scowl, saying, “I’ll have to talk to them about that. This place is supposed to be secure.”
He walked through it, saying, “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we’re terrorists or something. Not like we dealt with in Syria.”
She smiled and said, “Are you still working Syria?”
“Not after the Americans left, but my organization is still trying to help. We wanted to talk to you about coordinating again with the United Nations. We’ve lost our contact with the UN World Food Organization here and hope you can help.”