When the city gates opened the next morning the usual small crowd of travellers passed through on foot. Most began to look wearily for an inn to shelter in; some casting furtive glances around them as the travelled. Some were tourists and were admiring the view around them. Toulon was one of the few cities in the world that still opened and closed its gates at night; it was a tradition that had endured since the Napoleonic wars.
The people heading out of the city were mostly businessmen, on their way to the bigger towns where there were airports and train stations. Amongst them was a large man in a cloak. Just as Silas passed through the gates, he heard the alarm raised in a different part of the town. Smirking with rare satisfaction, he continued on his way south. As he walked, he pictured the scene in the town square right now. One of the most prominent men in town, dressed only in a burlap sack, hanging from the flagpole outside the police office. They would be trying to get him down by now. Good luck to them, thought Silas smugly. He had glued Kayth to the flagpole with shipbuilders glue. He wasn't going to come easy. When they did finally get him down, they'd realise why he'd been silent the whole time. In his mouth, in a waterproof bag, was a piece of paper. Apart from serving as a very good gag, the paper had a list of names on. Every man who had been killed on Kayth's orders, and why. Silas had not only embarrassed the man, he hoped he'd ruined his career.
By the end of that day, Silas had arrived at a town large enough to have a train station. He didn't know or care what it was called. He found a pawnbrokers and exchanged some of the jewellery in the bag for notes. They'd be more useful and less heavy, he reasoned. Then he bought a train ticket to Rome. Throughout the day, Silas did his best to avoid attention, he covered as much of his skin as possible and stayed off main roads. But a few people still noticed him, especially at the train station, and before long the familiar whispers were echoing through the crowd. Silas was glad to get on the train as the sun set.
Two days later Silas had a comfortable room in a hotel in Rome. He began the final stage of planning for the day he would fulfil his destiny.
Silas awoke on the third day after his departure from Toulon and turned on the TV in his room. He flicked it to a news channel to find a rough image of his face, complete with eyes evilly glowing out from under menacing brows on screen.
"Police are still searching for the dangerous fugitive known as Silas. They are warning the public that the man is very dangerous and should not be approached."
Silas smirked and switched the TV off. Half an hour later, he left the hotel and headed into the centre of the city. The hotel he'd chosen was relatively close to the Vatican city, precisely why he'd chosen it. Soon the Vatican itself loomed into view and Silas joined the end of the line outside the door. He didn't attract any undue attention as he joined the tourists on a tour of the establishment. Most of his body was covered and he had procured some coloured contact lenses from a specialist opticians. They itched terribly, but he considered it a fair price to pay for his anonymity.
As he returned to his hotel several hours later, Silas felt a sense of excitement at the events that were to come. He had acquired the necessary information during his tour of the Vatican, and by the end of the week he would have what he had come here for.