Free The Florentine Cypher: Kate Benedict Paranormal Mystery #3 (The Kate Benedict Series) by Carrie Bedford

attempt to seize my bag. He’d gone, leaving with a tourist group through the side door that led to the Piazza del Duomo.
    “He tried to take my bag,” I explained to the guards. They nodded, looking concerned, but when one of them started a lecture on how to safeguard myself from pickpockets I assured them I understood and thanked them for their help. As they strolled away, I checked my bag to reassure myself that I still had the leather pouch. It was there, together with my passport and money, but my knees were still shaking from the encounter as I headed to the exit. Half-blinded in the bright sunshine after the dark spaces of the cathedral, I peered around. There was no sign of my assailant among the crowds. My pulse was still racing. I’d had an encounter with a pickpocket in London once and, although he’d failed to take anything, I’d felt violated. This was different. This time, I was really angry. It was the second time in two days that I’d been accosted.
    My mobile rang, vibrating in my bag. When I answered, a woman spoke in strongly accented English.
    “Miss Benedict? My name is Valeria and I am a friend of Claire’s. You must come, please, to the hospital, at once.”
    “What happened? Is Claire all right?”
    The phone went dead, and I heard only an empty sighing sound as my unanswered question bounced around in the atmosphere.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    For a moment, I wondered if the call had been a hoax. Was someone trying to trap me? But, of course, Claire could also be a target and, whatever was going on, it would be better to face it together. I gathered my bearings and set off in the direction of the hospital.
    Away from the crowded piazza, the side streets were quieter, with few tourists and even fewer locals, most of whom would still be eating lunch. When I glanced into the window of a closed antique shop, I saw the reflection of a man in a blue anorak on the other side of the street. I turned to get a closer look at him, but he bent over to retie a shoelace.
    Quickening my pace, I listened to the sound of my footsteps echoing against the walls of the houses. A second set of footsteps formed a pattern with my own. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that the man was still behind me. When I paused, he slowed down.
    A motorbike sped past, the roar of the engine deafening in the quiet neighborhood. I considered stepping out to attract the driver’s attention, but he streaked by in a cloud of diesel fumes. As if emboldened by the bike’s departure, my pursuer hurried after me and, as he closed the distance between us, I ran, careful not to turn an ankle in my heeled boots. After a hundred meters or so, the street opened into a small square lined with tall, pale, stuccoed houses. The windows were shuttered and the dark wooden doors were firmly closed, giving no sign of life, not even a cat to break the unwelcome emptiness. Taking a diagonal across the square, I walked fast towards a road that led out of it to the north.
    I turned right on to Via Sant’ Egidio and saw the Ospedale Santa Maria Nuova just ahead. There, a few locals were out and about, also heading in the direction of the hospital, so I slowed down to catch my breath. In the safety of the entrance, I stopped to glance behind me. The man had gone. Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing, and he was just out for a walk. But that seemed unlikely.
    The hospital reception area was bustling and, as I’d expect, there was a sprinkling of auras, an old
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pushing a walker, an elderly man in a wheelchair. I looked away, focused instead on the queue at the reception desk. More than a dozen people were looking at their smartphones or chatting quietly. They seemed resigned to a long wait so I reluctantly joined the back of the line. After ten minutes, only one person had been processed by the woman on duty. A quick calculation convinced me that this could take all afternoon, so I pushed through to the front, where a female clerk made me fill out a