Stone Barrington 06-11

began to feel around.
    “You have a point,” he said, reaching for her.

45
    S OMETHING WOKE STONE, and when he opened his eyes he was dazzled by the light from a single bulb in the ceiling. He shook Holly.
    “Again?” she asked.
    “Not right now. Look.” He pointed toward the door. A bottle of wine with the cork half removed and a paper bag were on the floor near the door.
    Stone got up and retrieved them. Inside the bag were two paper cups, a large slice of Parmesan cheese, and a loaf of Italian bread. They fell upon the food.
    “What time is it?” Holly asked, her mouth half full.
    Stone consulted his watch. “A little after eight. Man, this is good cheese.”
    “Bread, too,” she said. “Night or morning?”
    “I don’t know. Night, would be my guess. More wine?”
    “Please.”
    He poured it for her, then gulped. “I just had a thought,” he said.

    “Share it.”
    “Last meal?”
    “Stop sharing.”
    They heard a noise coming from outside the door, steel clanking against concrete. It went on for some time, then it changed to the sound of a pick and shovel in dirt.
    “I don’t like the sound of that,” Stone said.
    “Maybe it’s construction work.”
    “Somehow, I don’t think so.”
    “I told you to stop sharing.”
    Stone walked over to the door and listened. The sounds were clearer and even less encouraging. He could hear two men grunting at their labor. “Why would they feed us, then kill us?” he asked.
    The answer came back from the other side of the door. “Because I’m a romantic.”
    “You’ve been listening to us, ah…”
    “Screwing? Yeah. How could I help it?”
    “Well, thanks for the food and wine.”
    “Don’t mention it. Nice Chianti, huh?”
    “Very nice,” Stone replied. He went and sat by Holly.
    “I think that answers your question,” he whispered.
    “More wine,” she said.
    Stone poured for both of them.
    “You’re taking this a lot better than I am,” Holly said.
    “No, I’m not. I’m just…” Stone stopped and listened. “The digging stopped,” he said.

    “Oh, shit. More wine.”
    Before he could pour, the door opened and a man stepped inside holding a shotgun.
    “Okay, let’s go,” he said.
    Stone recognized the voice from the other side of the door. “I wonder if we could talk about this for just a minute?”
    “Nope. You’re all out of time.” He waved the shotgun toward the door.
    Stone and Holly got up from their crates and walked out of the room. The lights were on in the cellar. They were led between rows of stacked goods to the other end, where two sweating men with shovels stood by a large hole. Two bags of lime sat next to the hole.
    The smells in the cellar were of cheese, fresh fruit, and fresh earth. These were the last scents they would ever smell. “I wonder if I could get you to make just one phone call before you do this?” Stone asked.
    “Nope.” He shoved them so that they were standing at one end of the hole, then he and another man with a shotgun took up positions a few feet away.
    “You’ve got my cell phone. The call is to Eduardo Bianchi,” he said.
    The men stared at him dumbly.
    “All you have to do is push send twice, and you’ll be connected. He was the last person I called, and the number is already in there.”
    Nobody moved.
    “I really do think it would be in your best interests to speak to Mr. Bianchi before you do this.”

    The man finally spoke. “You know Eduardo Bianchi?”
    “I know him very well,” Stone said. “I was nearly his son-in-law.”
    “Dino Bacchetti is his son-in-law.”
    “Dolce and I were engaged, before she… got sick.”
    The man stared at him for a long time. “You understand it would be very embarrassing for me if I called Mr. Bianchi and he didn’t know you or want to hear from you?”
    “I assure you, you won’t be embarrassed.”
    “If I’m embarrassed, then I’m going to hurt you before I kill you. The lady, too. You understand?”
    “I understand perfectly.”
    The man held out a hand to one of his colleagues. “Gimme his phone.”
    The man handed him Stone’s phone.
    “Just press send twice,” Stone said.
    “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” The man pressed the button twice and waited. “Nobody’s answering,” he said.
    “He was there earlier, just before you, ah, invited us in here.”
    “Hello?” the man said, then he started speaking Italian.
    Stone caught the words “Don Eduardo.”
    He stopped speaking, then started again,