![]() ![]() ![]() I got out of the taxi and started to run, made it to the Tiber, but hesitated. Unlikely as it was, we were stuck in a traffic jam on the backstreets of Rome. The next thing I remember, the taxi came to a stop. I could see the cops look at us in what seemed like slow motion. Minutes later, negotiating the narrow cobblestone streets of Trastevere, we passed a Carabinieri (national police) sedan parked on the side of the road. He looked at me in the rear-view mirror and laughed. But then I heard the engine start, saw him slip the shifter in gear, and we did a couple doughnuts in the middle of the piazza, tyres squealing, and pulled out, turning right on to a street heading for the Tiber River. I heard the front door open and close, looked and saw Pappas grinning in the driver's seat. I walked to it and I got in the back and closed my eyes, feeling the effects of many drinks. We left the bar and I saw a taxi on the other side of the piazza under a full moon. ![]()
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