The Vatican Rip Read online

  Our drive through the rain took maybe an hour or just a little less. We pulled in to the gateway of a villa. It was lit by an outside ornamental lantern so presumably somebody was home and waiting up for her. Lights of a couple of other villas were visible not too far off. I couldn’t see for rain and dark, but gained an impression of palms and paths leading off a patio into a garden.

  I waited, thinking, now what do we do? It was a hell of a way back, and by now so late I doubted if a taxi would make the journey out this far.

  ‘You’ll have to come in,’ she said. ‘No sense in sitting here.’

  We ran up the few marble steps into the shelter of the porch. Dashing in the rain always makes me smile. I noticed she used keys instead of ringing. I stood feeling full of doubts while she clicked the door open and went in shaking her hair like they do. She had hall lights on before she realized I was still dithering in the porch. Her shoulders drooped as if with exasperation.

  ‘Lovejoy.’ She didn’t even turn round.

  ‘Yes, signora?’

  ‘You now come in.’

  ‘Erm, thank you.’ I stepped inside. She still hadn’t turned.

  ‘And now you close the door behind you.’

  ‘Right.’ I did as she said, feeling a twerp. ‘Look, signora,’ I said doubtfully. ‘About my, erm, getting back . . .’

  She turned then. I couldn’t tell whether she was laughing or crying. ‘Lovejoy,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe you’re real.’

  She said the same thing again during the night. It must have been about three o’clock in the morning. I was across in the bathroom. She came from the bedroom and stood wobbling sleepily in the doorway.

  ‘Lovejoy. What are you doing?’

  ‘Washing my socks.’ I’d done my singlet and underpants and was hanging them on the heated rails.

  ‘You are what?’

  ‘I’ve only one lot.’ It was all right for her. I’d never seen her in the same clothes twice. A set of heated drying pipes was not to be sneezed at. ‘Finished.’

  She came against me, apparently snuffling with laughter. I was glad, because I was stark naked. So was she for that matter, but nude women don’t look stupid like we do. A woman like her could make a man forget Maria.

  ‘I told Fabio to get you fitted out.’

  ‘He must have forgotten.’

  ‘I’ll make sure he remembers.’

  ‘Mind, signora,’ I warned. ‘My hands are wet.’

  It was then she said it again. ‘Lovejoy,’ she breathed against my neck, her hands about me. ‘I don’t believe you’re real.’

  Her saying that was getting on my nerves. ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘I mean you call me Adriana now. Come back to bed.’

  She meant cretino.

  Chapter 19

  Next morning was a right scramble. It shouldn’t have been, but for some reason Adriana was anxious to make a proper breakfast for us, warbling in the kitchen with me gaping at the loveliest of views over a valley. I had her point the places out on the map and was delighted to learn we were near the Tivoli Fountains at the Villa D’Este. She said we would go one day.

  She drove quite expertly and probably twice as well as me. Women are mostly better drivers than us. I’ve noticed that. I was thankful, because there was a snarl-up on the main road into the city. We had delayed getting off the bed as well, which didn’t help. She dropped me with money for a taxi.

  Anna had not left for the day’s work. We had a brief skirmish, but that was practically par for the course nowadays. She was at her make-up when I came in and she rounded on me. Of course I had no reason to feel guilty but women always put you in the wrong.

  ‘I suppose you’ve been with that posh whore? The grand signora.’

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘If you must know I’ve been looking around.’

  ‘The rip?’ she breathed, unbending.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m glad, Lovejoy.’ She gave a half-smile. ‘One of us messing it up’s bad enough.’

  She was apologizing for that business with the police. I felt a heel but quickly suppressed it. There were too many people not on my side for me to go over and join them.

  ‘I want you to do something. Can you get hold of a camera? They took theirs back.’ And asked all sorts of awkward questions when I couldn’t produce any photographs.

  ‘I’ll get one.’

  I warned, ‘Legitimate, no stealing. Make sure you get a film that fits. Have somebody do it for you if you’re uncertain. Then photograph the Colosseum.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘No. Go in to the right. The terrace ends about halfway round, where the ancient Romans had a sort of elevator. There are great blocks of stone—’

  ‘I know the place. Where the masons work?’

  ‘Photograph the stones, the recess, everything.’ I didn’t say that was where Marcello died. ‘From every angle you can think of. It’s vital, so do it properly.’

  ‘I’ll do it, Lovejoy.’ She looked at me through the mirror, doing her mouth. ‘And thanks.’

  ‘What for?’ I’d just given her a monumental load of work to do, one my life would depend on.

  ‘Just thanks.’ I let it go. I don’t understand birds sometimes.

  She came to close the door after me. ‘Lovejoy. I’ve had news. Carlo comes out of hospital tomorrow.’

  ‘About time,’ I said as levelly as I could. It had had to come. ‘Tell him I want the ambulance on standby in three days. Morning, Anna.’

  ‘Morning, Lovejoy.’

  I started making the winch that morning.

  Maybe my timing was a bit unfortunate, knowing what I now knew of Piero and Adriana, but I was on a tight schedule. You can’t keep Vaticans waiting. So while I was drying out some glued pieces after weighting them down I went into the yard to measure up for the beam, a plain girder with a pulley.

  ‘What are you doing, Lovejoy? Who said you could start on that?’

  Good old Piero had come to check on me. He did this about twice an hour usually. Never said much, just gave a long glance, then went back in. This time he was inquisitive and suspicious.

  ‘Well, nobody, but—’

  ‘You were told your winch idea’s off. Listen.’ He came closer, casual as anything. I glimpsed Fabio’s delighted face at the rear window. ‘Your job here is to take orders. Understand?’

  ‘I know that. But it’s daft to waste—’

  ‘Piero.’

  Adriana was standing at the top of the showroom’s back steps. An entirely new outfit. Lemon was today’s colour, a graceful suit and chiffon scarf. No gold, just enough silver to bend the bullion market. Her hair was lustrous. She looked straight out of Imperial Rome, a real blinder.

  ‘Eh?’ I realized she had asked a question, what was going on? ‘Oh. I thought I’d start measuring up—’

  ‘For a winch for the top floor,’ Piero said. He never took his eyes off me. If Adriana hadn’t arrived we’d have been having harsher words than this.

  I shrugged. ‘If we can’t use it for upstairs, it’ll do for the showroom. A kid could use it to lift the heaviest furniture right into the ground-floor showroom. For God’s sake,’ I said, making out I was getting tired of it. ‘Even the ancient Romans had lifting devices. Go to the Colosseum. The mason there lifted those great blocks all day long with one finger, and we hump wardrobes and cabinets up and down those stupid steps, into the loading yard. Daft.’

  ‘Then he can make it for the showroom,’ Adriana told the middle distance. ‘Will it be safe?’

  ‘Perfectly.’ I smiled at her but not at Piero.

  And I thought, like hell it will.

  Fabio spent a contented morning after that, pouring oil on troubled fires. He took great pleasure in calling me into the showroom, innocently asking my advice on this or that antique. Twice I told him the stuff he was asking about was gunge, modern fakery, and each time he simpered with pleasure. It was only when I saw Piero’s thunderous expr
ession that I realized what game Fabio was playing. They were ‘antiques’ Piero had bought in. Hey ho.

  Adriana spent her time being exquisitely beautiful in the office and taking customers around. We were quite busy. I was brought up to play the tray dodge again, once with Piero and once – at some considerable distance – with Adriana.

  The influx always fell off about half past twelve, and it was then I really got going. Instead of working feverishly in ten-minute dashes I could tear into my Chippendale with a single mind. Of course they didn’t look like tables, and if things went smoothly they wouldn’t for quite some time. Piero came into the workshop about one o’clock. I was pedalling like a maniac at the spindle lathe, running a polisher into action, when I felt him there. I let the spindle creak to a halt, thinking that this was it. I gave him a disarming grin, friendly old Lovejoy.

  ‘You rang?’

  ‘Those bits the rent table for Adriana?’

  ‘Yes. Want to see?’

  ‘Not really.’ He was quite casual again, in full control. I think it was then I understood what a dangerous opponent he could be. Give me somebody berserk, every time. ‘There seems a lot of pieces for just one table.’

  ‘I’m making the occasional duplicate piece,’ I explained casually. ‘It’s called templating. Then if the signora finds it sells quickly, I can easily make another. Saves working it all out every time.’

  ‘What I mean is, Lovejoy, you’re not making separates, are you? One for the signora, one for yourself? Because I wouldn’t like that, Lovejoy.’ He spoke like a boss.

  ‘No,’ I said, thinking I was getting quite good at lying. I’d lied my head off all morning and it felt marvellous. ‘I promise you, Piero. Everything here belongs to the signora.’

  ‘You know, Lovejoy,’ he said thoughtfully, inspecting me. ‘There’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?’

  I didn’t like this. Piero the ape I could handle. Piero the thinker was an unknown quantity. ‘Wrong?’

  ‘You bend too easy. Yet I get the impression you’re just not bendable. And all this honesty.’

  I shrugged uncomfortably. I don’t like being looked into. ‘Everybody’s different.’

  And your gig here. Working on spec, when you’re a natural at the antiques game.’

  ‘Scratching bread, same as the rest.’

  ‘Maybe, Lovejoy.’ He was still quite calm as he left, but he said it again. ‘Maybe.’

  * * *

  When we started to break at two o’clock I received a type-written message. In an envelope with just my name on the front: Lovejoy. It read:

  Lovejoy,

  Please phone the number below, two-thirty.

  It was a Rome number.

  I asked Fabio, ‘Who delivered this?’

  ‘It was with the rest of the post.’

  ‘No postmark?’

  ‘Just as I passed it to you, Lovejoy.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘Some handsome admirer you haven’t told us about?’

  I was on tenterhooks wondering, so I made sure I broke off on time. On the way out Adriana spoke to me as I was dismissed – turning approximately in my direction but speaking a mile over my head.

  ‘Lovejoy. Your lunch arrangements are altered.’

  I’d forgotten my nosh money. ‘They are?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve phoned an account in, at the pizzeria across the street and the trattoria next to it.’

  ‘Er, thank you, signora.’

  ‘For one,’ she said absently. I felt the barb: no hungry partners share your dinners, Lovejoy.

  ‘Of course, signora.’

  I made my farewells and hurried to the trattoria where they let me use their phone. My hands were shaking as I dialled. A bored bird announced a hotel’s name quite openly.

  ‘Look,’ I said with some puzzlement. ‘My name’s Lovejoy. I was asked to phone this number at two-thirty.’

  It’s not that yet.’ She was bored and belligerent. ‘I’ll put you through but don’t blame me.’

  It was Arcellano all right. I felt my flesh creep as soon as I heard the poisonous bastard. He asked, ‘How’s my old friend?’

  ‘I haven’t a bean,’ I complained. ‘I’m having to work on tick.’

  He gave his cat-cough chuckle but I’ll bet without a proper smile. ‘Exactly as I like it, Lovejoy. Here’s my instruction. As soon as you’ve completed our transaction, you will ring this phone number, in Bonn. The very instant. You’ll be told where to deliver the item. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Lovejoy. No more accidents with cars.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I was all innocent.

  The phone went dead. I wrote down the number he’d given me and had a sombre meal.

  I left the trattoria thinking resentfully that half of the people in Rome now seemed to be my bosses. I had Anna bellyaching that everything I did was wrong. I had Adriana telling me where and when I could eat, and now who to sleep with. There was Piero fighting me every inch of the way. Fabio was stirring it. And Arcellano, probably having me watched now even as I walked through the Piazza Navona towards Anna’s.

  It was then that I got the other half. A familiar motor was waiting as I emerged on the south side of the Navona. Familiar because you don’t get many of them that ghastly purple colour. The chauffeur stood out as I crossed over.

  ‘Signor.’

  Like a fool, I was smiling as I got in, but the thing was empty. I sat, puzzled. Adriana had said nothing about sending her car for me.

  We rolled like a mobile cathedral into the river road. I listened carefully. There was not a cheep out of the clock.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked the driver, peering out at the car roofs. I’d never been this high without a ladder. ‘Look. I have to be back at work—’

  ‘One moment, signor.’

  That was all I got from him. The interior of the car was carpeted and there were more cupboards around than I had in my cottage. It was lovely. With my B-movie memory I tried the door handle at a traffic light. It wasn’t locked, so I wasn’t going to be gassed. Only Adriana, probably, wanting to talk.

  We were only a few minutes reaching the block of apartments. Not too tall a building, and very discreet. The ground floor was occupied by a suite of offices, some kind of property development company by the looks of things. I’m thick sometimes. I was still smiling in anticipation when I realized the place was Signor Albanese’s, not Adriana’s.

  A suave young bloke showed me in. Signor Albanese was reading documents behind a rosewood desk. I trudged the mile between the door and the chair. He had more sense than keep me waiting by pretending preoccupation, and looked up immediately with a smile that told me once again it was not my day.

  ‘There you are,’ he said, smiling at the secretary to bring a sherry. ‘You are much younger than I’d imagined, Lovejoy. I put you in the mid-forties.’

  ‘Some of us never make it.’

  He smiled and invited me into the chair.

  ‘You can leave us, Ernesto.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much time,’ I said.

  ‘I know. You must be back at the emporium fairly soon.’ He nodded as though that side of things was of the slightest importance.

  I sussed him. He was a calm, immaculate sort. You immediately received the impression that nothing could possibly take this man by surprise. It was a troublesome world, clearly, but controllable. His thinning hair was flattened, his suit brand new. Behind all that cleanliness and order he was tough, and in charge.

  ‘About your presence in Rome, Lovejoy.’ He raised a podgy palm to arrest my run of falsehoods. ‘No fabrications, please. Save those for others. You are, I believe, a divvie?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘An impressive attribute.’ A pause. ‘For one so poor.’

  ‘My stuff was stolen. I got dipped.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘It’s the truth. I’m earning my wages in antiques. Signora Albanese decided the deal, not
me.’

  ‘I heard. But that still leaves a gap in your story, no?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Perhaps I should explain, then. You come here, ostensibly as a tourist. You are relieved of your wallet. So you gravitate to a job in an antique shop, simply to earn your fare home.’

  ‘That’s it.’

  He continued smoothly, ‘I am reliably informed that your country’s authorities have an enviable record in establishing administrative systems the world over. I am further informed that they can cope with a stranded tourist.’

  ‘I never thought of it.’

  He leant forwards, shaking his head.

  ‘Lovejoy. I swear to you. I do not intend to destroy you, or any plans you might have. And whatever you say will go no further. But I must know. Do you understand?’

  I was getting sick of people uttering threats at me and then demanding if I understood. They’d all been at it today and it was getting on my wick.

  ‘No, I don’t understand.’

  ‘You were merely one of the crowd,’ he said gently. ‘At first, that is. Until now. When you and Adriana . . .’ He paused to make certain it sank in. ‘Naturally my wish for Adriana is that she enjoys a stable relationship. I condone it. And, until now, that which has existed between Adriana and Piero Peci has been eminently suitable. I am naturally very concerned when Adriana shows signs of changing her arrangements.’

  I was. lost. It was all too liberated for me to take in at one go. ‘You mean I’m sacked? Or I’m not to see Adriana?’

  ‘Not at all. Some relationship, of the kind Piero has previously provided, is essential. All I want to know is what your game is.’

  I drew breath. He didn’t mind Adriana having another bloke, even if it was in the plural, and all he wanted was for me to be frank about my presence in Rome? I began to get a headache.

  It’s . . .’ I hung my head, as if in shame. What the hell could I tell him? Tinker always says you should get your lies in first. Second and you’re sunk. I started to talk, praying something would come. ‘It’s . . . somebody I’ve met.’

  ‘Adriana?’

  ‘No.’ That road might be even more dangerous. ‘I admit I have some motive for staying . . .’ Anna! Anna! I burbled, ‘I . . . I want to stay for a while, at least until I’ve worked things out. She . . . she isn’t free. She has obligations. I’m not at liberty . . .’