Shark Beast 2: Paranormal Sharkitivity Page 19
"You've got the box, remember," he grinned. "If anything, I'd be swindling myself."
He was right, of course -- still, Isabella glared at the back of his head until it disappeared into the little Italian shop, throwing in a disapproving smirk, just because.
Come on, let it go, girl. You have the auction piece, what'd you expect, that's what you're here for, not to care about some--
(Mr. and Mrs. Swindler.)
"What?" She shook the crazy out of her head. "That's so --Whatever."
While she waited, bored now and toting her auction box, Isabella wandered, idly past the gelato stand, past an artist sitting on the lower steps sketching on a pad, and of course, past the ever-present ocean of pigeons. She nudged one of the birds, playfully. The pigeon looked up, hoping for food. Isabella revealed empty hands. The bird cocked its head curiously, still waiting for food. Isabella grinned--just the day before, she'd barreled up these very steps, sending birds scattering. Now she couldn't get rid of them.
Her sudden wistfulness turned a bit blue now--all that excitement, the auction, the delicious pizza, the (ultimately) successful negotiation for the auction piece -- all seemed so long ago now that it was about over, and for some reason she was left with a nagging feeling like, in all that haste and bluster, she'd missed out on something.
"After all, these are the Spanish Steps," she whispered lightly, distracting herself from the blue thoughts, one foot on one step, the other on a lower step. "138 steps, each one a historical delight, ascending to a crescendo of romantic splendor" -- reciting now from memory, the flowery guidebook -- "and though there are some that say it would be more accurate to refer to them as The French Steps, thanks to the generosity bequeathed by a très benevolent French diplomat, these 200-year-old foot-trodden masterworks challenge the Roman senses and the Italian ages, presiding as the grandest, widest, wickedest far-winding steps in all of Europe. Or something like that."
The pigeon waddled up, following Isabella with a feathery wobble as she straddle-walked the steps.
"...oh, the wonderful Spanish Steps, home of the happy tourist... the inspired artist... the wandering musician... the old gentleman enjoying his tasty gelato... the same gentlemen who was here in the same place doing the same thing yesterday..."
Hmm, an intercontinental spy, perhaps? Isabella mused with a vague half-smile, almost wishing he was -- that would be exciting, at least, positively cosmopolitan! -- (or something like that!) -- as she slowly turned and headed down the Spanish Steps, ending up at Fontana della Barcaccia -- "fountain of the old boat." She took a seat on the edge of the half-sunk ship sculpture, set the auction box on her lap, watching the brilliant sparkle-pure Acqua Vergine waters splash lightly from the feline sun carvings and the assorted "leaks" of the doomed vessel, listening to the very same solacing liquid sounds John Keats heard from his deathbed. The bird waddled over to her feet, looking up at her with those big pigeon eyes. Isabella cast a lightly suspicious glance over her shoulder--
The old gentleman wasn't looking in her direction at all. Just sitting there, eating his gelato. Isabella smirked, chagrined. She turned to the pigeon and--
Isabella's eyebrows raised slowly.
A few yards away, partially blocked by a crookedly parked run-down horse-drawn carriage, sitting at a table at an outdoor cafe...two older ladies were enjoying drinks. One of the ladies sported large dark sunglasses.
And her candy-hued drink...
...sported several colorful umbrellas.
Hmmm. Bit of a coincidence, that, isn't it now? she mused vaguely. Obviously this old lady was just that, a random old lady, certainly not the same old lady from before, back at the auction after-gallery. Which would be silly. Isabella smiled, even as her eyebrow slowly crept.
Obviously, just a coincidence.
Still... As casually as she could, Isabella leaned left, then right, to see if the elder woman's head would follow. C'mon, be a spy, be a spy, you can do it...
The lady, oblivious, took a slow sip of her drink.
C'mon, give me something, Isabella sighed. Where's an international conspiracy when you need one? Yawning, she looked around for any other signs of possible intrigue or duplicities or shady shenanigans or something--
Just my luck, she pouted. Nothing but beautiful old Rome.
Slumping forward, ankles out and kneecaps touching, Isabella thumbed a steady bored beat on top of the auction box, looking at nothing in particular, when--
Mama Mia!
Mama Mia!
Her eyes slowly rolled. Dully, she reached for her purse. "This is obnoxious even for you, boss-lady. Don't you have some crazy rich stuff to do?" she muttered, digging vaguely for her CherryBerry, her search guided by the annoying ABBA ringtone.
Mama Mia!
"Grrrrr, already," Isabella fumed, the pigeon watching, with curious bird-blinks. "Never become a human, birdie." Still digging. "Especially a rich loony one..."
The pigeon nodded, then gave its head a cockeyed tilt.
"Tempted to give the auction thingie back to Mr. Swindles and forget the whole... whatever," Isabella grumbled, finally finding her CherryBerry, popping it on for messages.
Clicking through the many messages with a dull smirk (got to delete some of these one day)-- suddenly, she froze, staring at the last line on the glowing display.
BM--NEED INFO FINAL BID HOW MUCH $ LEFT?
BM--RE: ACQUISITION/SUCCESS OR WERE YOU LATE AGAIN?
BM--I'LL BE FEEDING MY CATS/LEAVE MESSG PRIORITY
WARNING--TO THE GIRL ON THE FOUNTAIN OF THE OLD BOAT
The display glowed at her, ominously, for a long moment. At her feet, the pigeon stared up, blink blink blink. Isabella discreetly narrowed her gaze, focusing on the one strange out-of-place message amongst all the "Boss-mails" on her CherryBerry.
WARNING--TO THE GIRL ON THE FOUNTAIN OF THE OLD BOAT...
#
Slowly, blankly, almost as if hypnotized, she clicked past the boss-mails, and with a very steady finger, Isabella Parker clicked open the mysterious message.
-- Chapter VII --
The Mysterious Message
WARNING--TO THE GIRL ON THE FOUNTAIN OF THE OLD BOAT
DANGER OR ELSE
YOU DON"T KNOW WHAT YOURE GETTING INTO
STAY AWAY FROM BUSINESS THAT DOES NOT CONCERN YOU
OR ELSE THERE WILL BE MORE THAN ONE GIRL
FLOATING IN THE TREVI FOUNTAIN
LEAVE WHILE YOU CAN
IF YOU STAY IN ROME
YOU WILL REGRET IT
YOU --WILL--
*REGRET*
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All Rights Reserved
Copyright by Russ Cooper
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Table of Contents
One--"Shark Beast 2"
BONUS MATERIAL -- Sneak Peeks