*
Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore
"IS IT ALL RIGHT if I still see Laura? Only I wouldn't like to be responsible for the Monsignor getting a heart attack." He had nearly finished his early supper in the big house.
Father Josef nodded his assent. "I can see no harm in that. After all, Laura's father was fully approved by the Church!"
Again the shrill laugh Marco had not heard before today. Perhaps the old man had previously found no occasion for laughter. He seemed remarkably relaxed. Monsignor Augusto Giorgio, had he been present, was unlikely to have shared the joke.
"This security group of yours: do I get to meet the others?"
There was a momentary silence. "That will not be possible for some time. I am part of a larger team, with members placed in many parts of the Church. We are not here to spy on the clergy, of course. I would like to think that the business of the Church is more open since the Second Vatican Council. Perhaps it is. My particular task is to protect the Church from external subversive influences."
"And my task?"
"Your task is still the same, Marco. Recover the relic -- and if you are not able to recover it, destroy it. The Holy Father would rather the object did not exist than it should fall into evil hands. I must repeat my earlier warning. You are to trust no one: not the carabinieri, and not even the Vatican staff. Do I make myself clear?"
Marco nodded. Locating the relic might still be possible with Laura's help, but he would find it hard to destroy such an incredible part of history even if the situation demanded it.
This new role could be a solution to his personal dilemma. Working for Father Josef he wouldn't need his clerical collar any more. He shook his head. He was still a priest. Father Josef had made that plain. But surely he was being given a chance to think again about his calling. Maybe it had been a mistake as a previously married man to take the vow of celibacy and chastity. But if he had a job that... He was being ridiculous. For the past few days he'd caught himself indulging in immature teenage fantasies. Yet Laura... No, this was not a route he should even think of going down.
"Excuse me, Father." He folded the napkin that had been carefully embroidered by the sisters for their guests, and pushed his chair back on the polished floor. "Is it all right if I make a phone call? Laura wants to meet me, so I'm going to ask her to drive me to my apartment to collect a few things. I want my portable CD player and some more clothes. I'm bringing them back here, then Laura and I might go for a drive."
KARL FELT his patience running out. The street by the troll's house had parking restrictions and the stradale approached his car several times, but the Roma license plates aroused no suspicion as he moved the little Fiat on without needing to be told. Suddenly a silver Alfa came down the street, dodging in and out of the traffic. The custom black line on the doors was distinctive. He of all people should be the one to recognize it from the drive back from Monte Sisto, when Herr Kessel wondered where Otto…
He started the engine. Otto and Herr Kessel were in the past. It was important to concentrate. He had been trained to think only of the job in hand.
The Alfa stopped outside the block where Sartini lived. The driver was the woman he had seen at the Colosseum. She and Sartini must be mixed up with Herr Kessel's death.
The priest ran into the high building while the woman waited in her car. As Karl was wondering whether to follow, the priest hurried out with a bulging hold-all. He climbed into the woman's car which shot into the evening traffic, swinging sharp right into the main street without slowing.
Karl followed in the little red Fiat.
"I'M GLAD TO be leaving that place," said Marco. "Thanks to that skinhead I'd never feel safe there again. Signora Silvini is still in hospital." He was getting used to Laura's driving by now, and even managed to sound relaxed as he talked.
Laura turned her head to the right, glancing across at him -- a rather disconcerting habit in all this traffic. "I want you to meet Mamma. She's going to let us examine all the letters from my father."
Laura's mother. It had been hard enough to accept that Laura had Canon Levi for a father. Laura was simply Laura, and she existed without the apparent need for parents.
At the next intersection Laura squeezed her car between two buses waiting at the lights. "We're going to see her tomorrow morning. Riccardo's coming with us."
It was a simple statement, but the mention of Riccardo Fermi's name irritated Marco. "I know Riccardo's a friend of yours, but I think he had something to do with the death of the man burned to death in the station wagon at Monte Sisto. I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but Bruno Bastiani definitely did. I'm sure he was going to name Riccardo Fermi when he was dying at the Colosseum. Stop seeing Riccardo -- please."
Laura cleared the line of buses without getting a trace of orange paint on the Alfa. "You're jealous."
"No, I'm not!" He knew his face had colored up.
Laura was waiting for the first sign of a green light so she could be away before the black Peugeot on their left. From her attitude at the wheel she was about to make a breathtaking turn across the front of it.
Marco braced himself. "Where are we going?"
"We're meeting Riccardo for a drink. You should show him a bit more sympathy. Bruno was his best friend."
He recoiled at the prospect of socializing with Riccardo. He was suspicious of everyone at present, perhaps even of Laura. "I told you, I don't think we should trust Riccardo Fermi."
"Are you jealous of his good looks?"
"Why should I be jealous of his looks? He's nothing special."
She laughed. "Prove you're not jealous. Come and meet Riccardo again. I won't tell him what you said. You worry too much, that's your problem."
The lights changed. Laura accelerated -- and turned sharp left.
KARL BEGAN to shake with nervous energy. The Alfa slipped between the buses. The gap closed, leaving him stranded. Brake lights came on and a few cars sounded their horns, but the priest and the woman were getting away.
He had no choice but to cut left across two lanes of fast-moving traffic. Somehow the audacity of the maneuver stunned even the toughest Roman drivers and they let him go. The woman's Alfa was bouncing rapidly through intersection after intersection, but always the lights remained green long enough for him to keep it in sight. Finally the Alfa stopped in front of a building with old green shutters, in a piazza dwarfed by the most enormous church he had ever seen. It didn't take the priest long to unload his stuff.
Suddenly there was a tap on the window. A large woman in uniform was telling him to move on. An orange bus was trying to come through and he was blocking the way. It would only take a minute or so to do a quick circuit. He let the clutch in as soon as the lights went green. Cursing his luck he waited in a long line, but the Italian drivers were in no hurry for once, and the lights went red again before all the cars got through. By the time he came back to the building with the green shutters, the woman's car had gone.
He waited for a few minutes. He'd lost his opportunity this time. His best bet was to get some more beer and return to his new hotel where the clerk, having seen him write Manfred Kessel in the register when he booked in, kept calling him Signor Kessel. It was weird but it was necessary to go along with it if he wanted Herr Kessel's plastic to pay for the room.
The hotel was of a much higher standard than the old dump Herr Kessel had booked them into. If Herr Kessel had been blessed with intelligence he would have stayed in a place like this. Karl knew he would soon be too useful a member of Achtzehn Deutschland Reinigung to stay in backstreet hotels. He was using Herr Kessel's card wisely, and it was unlikely the senior members of the ADR would mind -- even if they found out.
He stretched himself on the large bed and opened a bottle of beer. A bed like this deserved to be fully occupied. Maybe he could find a woman and bring her back for the night. A woman like the one with the silver Alfa. That would be a lot more fun than having the old Narr snoring on the o
ther side of the thin partition in that cheap hotel off the Via Nazionale. He had enough money left to find a woman. Rome was not such a bad place after all.
Early in the morning he could throw the Hure out and go back to the tall house with the green shutters to wait for Sartini. He counted out the last of Herr Kessel's cash and went for a walk.