Friday barnes no escape, p.16
Friday Barnes: No Escape,
p.16
It was cold on the water. The wind was whipping in their faces. But it was exhilarating whizzing past all the beautiful terrace buildings up the winding river. They soon left the city behind them as they steadily gained on the motorboat. In the distance they could hear the siren of a police boat. And alongside them, police cars were racing along either bank, but the narrow roads never went straight for long, they kept having to deviate away from the river.
Up ahead, Mrs Benatti was steering towards the left bank. A car was parked by a boat ramp. The boat was slowing down.
‘They’re going to stop and swap to a car!’ said Ian.
‘Then we’ll catch them,’ said Friday. She held the throttle fast, bearing down on the slowing boat. Suddenly, a police car veered out from a side street and drove straight down the boat ramp, the motorboat pulled away from the jetty at the last moment. The driver from the car leapt to get in the back of the boat to avoid getting arrested, but it moved too quickly and he fell into the water.
Friday and Ian were only a few metres behind the boat now.
‘How do we stop them?’ asked Ian.
‘We can’t,’ said Friday. ‘But they have to stop eventually. We’ve only got to stay with them.’
This was not going to be as easy as it appeared. When Friday glanced up it was to see a fire extinguisher flying at her head.
‘Duck!’ cried Ian.
They both ducked and the extinguisher landed with a splash behind them. But it didn’t end there. Next a first-aid kit came flying through the air. Then a radio, then a wrench, then a whole wrench set. Roberto and Tatiana were throwing all the loose contents in the boat at Friday and Ian and with remarkably good aim.
Friday veered left, then right to avoid getting hit. She was doing okay until Roberto detached an entire seat and threw that.
Friday ducked and turned the vespa, but the seat clipped her on the shoulder. The bike teetered, Ian held on tight, pulling Friday the opposite way to help her regain balance. When Friday looked up, it was to see that they were coming up on a weir – a huge underwater concrete construction to manage the water flow. The water was fast moving and very shallow over the weir.
Friday spun the jet ski around to avoid running aground, but the forward momentum threw Ian off the back. He went into the water with a massive splash. The motorboat fared much worse. Mrs Benatti couldn’t turn quickly enough and the boat slammed into the weir, side on. The motorboat was stuck, run aground on the concrete.
Police cars raced onto the bridge above. Officers bursting out of their cars with weapons drawn. ‘Hands in the air. Stay where you are.’
Mrs Benatti and Tatiana accepted that there were no escape routes left. They slowly raised their hands. But Roberto wasn’t ready to give up yet. He dived out of the boat, into the river. The dive looked graceful, but what followed wasn’t. Roberto clearly hadn’t taken many swimming lessons. His pathetic attempts to swim dog paddle made no headway against the current. He was rapidly being swept downstream.
‘Help!’ Roberto cried. He was still dressed as Galileo. It would be awkward for anyone to swim in full renaissance clothing, but practically impossible for a bad swimmer. The water pulled him under. With a few powerful strokes of freestyle, Ian swam over just in time to snatch Roberto by the collar and pull him up again.
As soon as he broke the surface, Roberto saw Ian. He grabbed Ian by the throat and punched him right on the nose. Now Ian went under. But at that moment Friday arrived on the jet ski. She bopped Roberto on the head with the fire extinguisher and grabbed Ian by the arm. Two police officers jumped off the bridge with a flotation ring and caught hold of Roberto.
Friday helped Ian pull himself up onto the floating vespa.
‘I feel like I’m always rescuing you,’ said Friday. ‘You’re such a gentleman in distress.’
Ian couldn’t even retort. He was too busy coughing up water.
Later that day, Friday and Ian were back in the same open plan office at the police station. But this time they weren’t the ones handcuffed to the furniture.
Mrs Benatti, Roberto and Tatiana were being held in separate interview rooms. Inspector Benatti had been put on compassionate leave while the investigation took place. The Chief Inspector from Rome had travelled across to oversee the investigation and run the precinct until an acting inspector could be appointed. He was in Inspector Benatti’s office with Uncle Bernie and Governor Offredi from the museum right now. Friday would have loved to know what they were saying. She tried lip reading, but Governor Offredi was standing with her back to the window and Friday could not lip read through the back of her head.
‘So, what exactly happened?’ asked Melanie. She had tagged along with Friday and Ian when they were brought into the police station. The officer who transported them tried to exclude her, but Melanie had announced she was Friday’s translator, and she had made this claim in such flawless Italian that the officer had believed her.
‘Mrs Benatti is the one who has been arranging to steal art to order for the black market,’ explained Friday.
‘I know I should be shocked,’ said Melanie. ‘But she is so stylish it makes more sense that she is an international master criminal than the wife of a police officer.’
‘Uncle Bernie should have a close look at the paintings in the Benattis’ apartment too,’ said Friday. ‘I don’t think those paintings in the kitchen are Roberto’s. Paintings of food and flowers are characteristic of eighteenth century Dutch still life painting. I think they’re the real thing. I think the Benattis have been committing crimes like this for some time. They stole those paintings from the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. They sold nine of them and kept three to decorate their kitchen.’
‘She hid them in their own apartment?’ marvelled Ian. ‘Right under the Inspector’s nose?’
Friday sighed. ‘I don’t understand why people do the things they do. I just know what I’ve read in books.’
‘We know,’ said Ian.
Friday ignored him and continued, ‘When I studied criminology we learned that there are different types of motives. Most people commit crime simply for financial gain, some do it for revenge, but some do it because they enjoy getting away with it.’
‘That sounds like a lot of effort,’ said Melanie.
‘Yes,’ agreed Friday. ‘It’s a cycle of behaviour that you’d have to develop in early childhood. Being naughty and getting away with it. Feeling smarter than everyone else. Manipulating people.’
‘I can see how that would be fun,’ said Ian.
‘You say that,’ said Friday, ‘but I don’t think you really are that cruel. This is a very cruel crime. It’s cruel to Inspector Benatti and cruel to her own children. But Signora Benatti would have enjoyed the risk. The thrill of being so close to getting caught and getting away with it.’
‘She had the perfect cover,’ said Ian. ‘No-one would suspect the wife of a police inspector.’
‘And the perfect team,’ said Friday. ‘Her son is an art expert. He’d know exactly what to target. Her daughter is an elite athlete. She’d have the strength and dexterity to get in to impossible places. They were the perfect crime team.’
‘Poor Inspector Benatti,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s very embarrassing for him. Living with three criminals and not realising. That’s not going to look good on his resume.’
‘It’s probably for the best,’ said Friday. ‘You will have observed that he is a very angry man. But I don’t think it’s entirely due to his personality. Given his frequently flushed skin tone, high-fat diet and stressful job, his anger issues are most likely symptomatic of high blood pressure. He really shouldn’t have such a responsible job if he is medically unable to control his temper.’
At the far end of the open plan area the office door opened.
‘Friday,’ called Uncle Bernie, he beckoned for her to come over. ‘The Governor would like a word.’
‘Okay,’ said Friday. Her blood ran cold. She was pretty sure she had done nothing wrong, but you never knew with law enforcement agencies. Especially when they were in different countries, the laws governing international crime were changing all the time.
Friday stepped into the small bureaucratic space. The Governor was so elegant she seemed misplaced alongside the steel filing cabinets and laminate-covered desk. Friday ran through all the possibilities in her mind – was she about to be arrested, or deported, or accused of something?
‘Um, we’ll step outside,’ said Bernie, holding open the door for the Chief Inspector.
But before he stepped out, the Chief Inspector paused and looked Friday in the eye. Friday started to tremble with fear. He looked so serious. This could not be good. When he finally spoke it was with a thick accent. ‘Italy very nearly lost a great artefact today,’ he said gravely. ‘Grazie.’ He grabbed Friday by the shoulder and kissed her on each cheek.
‘Okay,’ said Friday, weakly.
The Chief Inspector left, closing the door behind him. Friday was still shaking, although she was no longer sure if it was from nerves or shock. She turned to the Governor of the Uffizi. It occurred to Friday it was odd that she would want to speak to her alone.
‘I’d like to offer you a job,’ said Governor Offredi.
‘What?’ said Friday. Then she remembered her manners. ‘I mean, I beg your pardon?’
‘I am not really the Governor of the Uffizi,’ said the Governor.
‘You’re not?’ asked Friday.
‘No, I’m the Chief Investigator in the arts and antiquities unit of Interpol,’ said Signora Offredi. ‘Crime in this area is rife across Europe, and indeed the world, as criminals seek to move money about in the form of artefacts.’
‘I know,’ said Friday. ‘I read the papers.’
‘I know you do,’ said the Governor. ‘You have subscriptions to major daily papers in five different languages. We’ve been watching you.’
‘You have? Why?’ asked Friday.
‘You have skills we could use,’ said the Governor. ‘A fifteen-year-old girl, with a criminal record. No-one would suspect you of working for us.’
Friday glanced out the window at Ian and Melanie. She didn’t want this. She just wanted to be normal again.
‘I’ve had enough excitement,’ said Friday. ‘I just want to go back to school with my friends.’
‘You can do both,’ said the Governor. ‘Your friend already works for us.’
‘Melanie?’ asked Friday.
‘No, although I’m considering taking her on,’ said the Governor. ‘Her language skills are excellent. Her ability to tell if someone is lying would be invaluable. And I’ve read a report that she is incredibly gifted at archery. That’s got to be useful.’
‘Then . . .?’ began Friday.
‘Ian,’ said the Governor. ‘He’s been working with us since he came to Italy. He has been a great asset. A sixteen-year-old with a conman for a father and a chip on his shoulder. It is an excellent cover story.’
Friday looked through the window at Ian. He was so good-looking and charming. It all made complete sense. Ian was Uncle Bernie’s informant on the dark web. The inside operative spying on the antiquities underworld. Ian. Her Ian. The boy who had kissed her in the back of a horse-drawn carriage while they were serenaded with opera. This was all too much even for her massive brain to comprehend.
‘Come and join him, and me, in investigating real crime here in Europe,’ urged the Governor. ‘What do you say?’
Friday did not even respond. She was still watching Ian. Melanie had gone over to the water cooler to get a drink. He was sitting on his own. Without saying a word, she got up and stepped out of the office.
Ian looked up.
‘Were you only going out with Tatiana because you had to?’ she asked.
Ian nodded ever so slightly.
‘You let her into the Uffizi that night to entrap her?’ said Friday. Although it wasn’t really a question. She knew the answer.
‘I was trying to get her to trust me,’ said Ian. ‘By showing her I would break the rules.’
Friday walked across the office. Ian stood up as she approached, bracing for some sort of impact.
Friday grabbed a hold of him and kissed him.
It was a really good kiss. She was getting the hang of kissing.
When she let go, Ian looked a little bewildered.
‘I just want you to know,’ said Friday, ‘I really hate you.’
‘I know,’ said Ian. Then he kissed her back.
To be continued . . .
R.A. Spratt is the author of Friday Barnes, The Peski Kids and The Adventures of Nanny Piggins. When she isn’t writing stories she is telling them on her podcast ‘Bedtime Stories with R.A. Spratt’. R.A. lives in Bowral, NSW, where she has three chickens, five goldfish, many tadpoles and a desperately needy dog called Henry. She also has a husband and two daughters.
For more information, visit raspratt.com
Books by R. A. Spratt
The Adventures of Nanny Piggins
Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan
Nanny Piggins and the Runaway Lion
Nanny Piggins and the Accidental Blast-Off
Nanny Piggins and the Rival Ringmaster
Nanny Piggins and the Pursuit of Justice
Nanny Piggins and the Daring Rescue
Nanny Piggins and the Race to Power
The Nanny Piggins Guide to Conquering Christmas
Friday Barnes: Girl Detective
Friday Barnes: Under Suspicion
Friday Barnes: Big Trouble
Friday Barnes: No Rules
Friday Barnes: The Plot Thickens
Friday Barnes: Danger Ahead
Friday Barnes: Bitter Enemies
Friday Barnes: Never Fear
Friday Barnes: No Escape
The Peski Kids: The Mystery of the Squashed Cockroach
The Peski Kids: Bear in the Woods
The Peski Kids: Stuck in the Mud
The Peski Kids: Near Extinction
The Peski Kids: The Final Mission
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Penguin Random House Australia is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Puffin Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd, in 2021
Copyright © R.A. Spratt 2021
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
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ISBN 9781760895778
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R.A. Spratt, Friday Barnes: No Escape
