The Girl Who Knew Da Vinci_An Out of Time Thriller

by Belle Ami

  “The pièce de résistance is that Fioretta, probably with the encouragement of her mother, named her daughter Lucrezia. Lucrezia Tornabuoni was Giuliano Medici’s mother. None of this is coincidence.”

  “When do we make our move?”

  “Soon, Enrico, very soon. It is all about the timing. I want the situation with the German settled simultaneously with our plans for Caine.”

  “The German’s jet is now accessible and my men will make the modifications when you give the green light.”

  “Good. By the way, plan on eating venison for a while.” Scordato disconnected and stuffed his cell phone back in his pocket. Swinging his high-powered hunting rifle off his shoulder, he slid the bolt open, loaded five bullets, and closed the bolt. He lifted the rifle, aligned his eye with the telescope and panned until he sighted the stag about one-hundred yards away. He slid the safety lever off, took a deep breath, released a bit of air, and held it. Slowly squeezing the trigger, he fired. The stag stumbled and fell motionless.

  He grinned and walked back to the truck, setting the rifle on the backseat. “Dinner.”

  Chapter 20

  Montefioralle, Italy

  August, 17, 2018

  After Rome, Angela needed a break from the case. They’d made love, walked and played with the dogs, cooked spaghetti and meatballs, and made love again. She should have been physically spent, but Angela had tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep, and Alex spent a sleepless night worried about her.

  At one point she’d flailed, fighting an invisible demon and pounded on his chest. Italian and English intermingled in her tortured mind as her dreams seesawed her from the past to the present. He had to shake her awake until he finally got through to her that she was safe in his arms.

  He was worried, the nightmares were getting worse, and no matter how much he soothed and held her, he couldn’t chase them away. The search for the painting was taking its toll, she was sinking into the quicksand of the past.

  After a few fitful hours of slumber, he woke up and gazed at her sleeping face. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Maybe he should take her away, go somewhere away from Montefioralle and Florence and the ghosts that stalked her dreams. He considered it, but he knew it wouldn’t help. The only thing that would end the nightmares was finding the painting. Only then would she be free. Only then would they both be free.

  Regretfully, he slipped from beneath the sheets and left the warmth of her body. He wanted her to sleep as long as possible. She needed to recover.

  He was besieged by nagging thoughts, something about her story about Fioretta didn’t connect. Was she keeping something from him? Not telling him everything about what had occurred in her last episode. Would she do that? He was certain she trusted him, so why would she hold back information? Then it hit him full force.

  She’s protecting me. She’s afraid the past will repeat itself.

  The thought of it made him want to punch his fist through a wall. Didn’t she understand the danger she was in?

  He dressed, determined to take action. He needed to protect Angela.

  Maria and Joseph hadn’t returned yet from their weekend away. Their son had to work and they needed to babysit their granddaughter. Alex was glad for the extra alone time with Angela. He would press her to reveal the complete truth of her vision with Fioretta.

  He strode to the library and opened a secret wall panel. Inside was an assortment of firearms and ammunition. He began loading and checking to make sure they were all in firing order. If that bastard even tries to get anywhere near Angela, I’ll kill him first. When every firearm was loaded and ready, he began stashing them around the house in hidden lockboxes. He put his favorite Glock in the glove compartment of the Ferrari, just in case they had to make a quick escape. Feeling better that he’d prepared for any eventuality, he returned to the kitchen .

  He’d just finished laying out ingredients for breakfast on the counter when the phone rang. Max Jaeger’s named popped on the screen. Alex had kept his texting to Max at a minimum, however, he’d mentioned the side-trip to Rome. Max was probably checking in for an update.

  “Good morning, Max. How’re things in Munich?”

  “Guten morgen. I feel like a rat on a wheel, always running. Are you back from Rome?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did it go?”

  “It went well. We’re getting closer. But if you’re asking if I know where the painting is, I don’t. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I see. I have some disturbing news to share with you later.”

  “What’s wrong with right now. I’d rather not let my imagination run wild.”

  “We need to have this conversation in person. I have some business to take care of in Florence. I’m flying in today. I think we have to be cautious. Scordato has resurfaced and your suspicions were right, he’s after the painting.”

  “He was fired from the Getty. And I know I’m right. He’s in Europe, and he’s after the painting. As I already told you in my previous briefing, I’m certain the two goons who attacked me in Florence were Scordato’s men.”

  “Yes, who would have thought an art director could possess such criminal tendencies?”

  “Scordato is a sociopath,” Alex said in warning. “You need to be careful. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

  Max laughed. “Don’t worry about me. I have a team dedicated to ensuring my safety. I don’t trust him either, but it’s you that needs to be careful. I’ll call you when I land. I’d like to meet for dinner, with Angela of course.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t we have dinner at my apartment in Florence? I’ll make you a home-cooked Italian meal. It will be far more relaxing and give us some privacy. We can discuss everything then. I’ll text you directions. I’m right in the city center, at the Palazzo Rucellai. Let’s say 7 p.m. cocktails.”

  “That will work fine with my schedule.”

  “Good, I look forward to it. Max, I think it will be good for you and Angela to meet.”

  “Yes, I believe it’s time I met your consultant. I have some questions for her. Auf wiedersehen.”

  “Ciao.”

  Angela woke to the mouth-watering aroma of eggs and bacon. She stretched and instinctively reached for Alex but the bed was empty. I guess Maria and Joseph didn’t make it back and Alex is cooking. It was easy to distinguish between Maria’s Italian breakfasts filled with herbs and spices and Alex’s purely American cuisine. Not that one was better than the other, bacon and eggs sounded great.

  Her night had been a series of nightmares. Unfortunately, she remembered nothing. I’m probably too exhausted to recall anything. She’d come to realize that there was a difference between the past calling to her and her trying to see into the past. She couldn’t get Fioretta’s cries of I love you, Mama, or the despair in her eyes, out of her head. Why do people hurt the ones they love?

  Poor Alex, he must be so frustrated. How was it that nightmares could be so physically punishing? The proof was her body, every inch of her ached. Of course, that could also be from all of the delicious sex.

  In the bathroom, she stared in the mirror and shuddered. She looked like a wraith. Purple shadows circled her eyes as if she’d been in a prize fight and lost. Damn, you look terrible. She jumped in the shower and turned on the tap. The enclosure quickly filled with steam while hot water from the rain shower head ran in rivulets down her body. Heaven.

  As she lathered her hair, she gazed out the window at the artistry of Mother Nature. The fading greens of summer were transforming into the vibrant rusts and golden yellows of fall. Even from this distance, the grapevines appeared lush with fruit.

  The passing of seasons reminded her that no matter what, life moved on. Nature never lies. It always shows us her truth. If Sophia had not hidden the painting, if she had not lied to Gerhard, would that have changed the trajectory of their
lives? If Fioretta and Giuliano had told Lorenzo of their marriage and their child, would they have lived under the protection of the Medici household? Would Giuliano have survived the assassination? And in so doing, would Fioretta have lived through childbirth with no tragedy to weaken her spirit?

  She remembered Alex telling her of the vendemmia when they first arrived. Had it only been a week ago? It felt like years. So much had changed. I can’t keep the truth from him. It’s not right. We can’t begin a life together based on lies. Especially after she made him swear to honesty.

  The truth shall set you free.

  She stood under the showerhead, letting the warm water wash away her fears and cleanse her mind and heart.

  She would surprise him. They could take a hike with the dogs and she would lead him to the cave. She smiled, anticipating his surprise when she pulled the infamous portrait out of its seventy-year-old hiding place.

  She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel around herself, anxious to get downstairs, to Alex.

  All of their troubles would be over, they’d be free to be together without the specter of the past hanging over their heads. She imagined a future free of a five-hundred-year-old painting. A future where she and Alex could develop into something more. Maybe this crazy relationship wasn’t wrong. Maybe Alex and she could find their happily-ever-after ending.

  Alex whistled along to a recording of Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma. Angela’s laughter made him turn. As usual, she was followed in by her escort committee—Zaba, Ama, and Misu.

  “Good morning, love. What’s so funny?”

  “You. Opera? You like opera?”

  “Guilty as charged. Opera’s the music of love and passion, and besides, this is Italy and it would be sacrilegious not to love the music of my adopted homeland.”

  “I would never have pegged you as an aficionado. I kind of figured you were heavy metal all the way.”

  “Remind me sometime to show you my pics from the Big 4 concert in Warsaw, in 2010—Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax, and Megadeth.”

  She rolled her eyes at him as he pointed the wooden spoon at her to make his point. “The things you don’t know about me could fill a book. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to stick around to know all there is to know about the mysterious Alex Caine. Besides, no way I’m going to be predictable. I hold your interest by surprising you.”

  “You’ve held my interest since the moment we met, and you continue to surprise me without even trying.”

  “Right now, I’m surprising you with an all-American breakfast of bacon and eggs.”

  “I thought Joseph and Maria were due back.”

  “Their son had to work and their daughter-in-law is pregnant and due in a month. They stayed an extra day to help with their grandson. They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

  Expertly he slid the eggs and bacon onto two plates and set them on the table. Returning to the stove, he opened the oven and grabbed thick slabs of Italian bread, tossed them in a basket, and added that to the feast. He leaned down and kissed Angela’s cheek, joining her at the table. “How’s it look, beautiful?”

  “Like heaven.” She crunched a rasher of bacon.

  “You had a tough night, last night.”

  She dropped her eyes. “I know, sorry. When I looked in the mirror, I scared myself to death. I look terrible.”

  “You’re beautiful. I like that sultry-I’ve-had-lots-of-hot-sex-look.”

  “I wish it was from that. I mean it is, but it’s not.”

  “Anything you remember from last night?”

  “No. I think I was so exhausted that my mind just shut down.” She broke her egg and sopped up the yellow yolk with a slice of toasted bread. She popped it in her mouth and closing her eyes, sighing with pleasure. “I heard a French chef on a cooking show say that the mastery of a perfectly cooked egg was a sign of greatness. Where’d you learn to cook anyway?”

  “I’ve always cooked. That’s what comes of having a mother who never set foot in a kitchen. But, when I moved to Italy I trained with top chefs at their homes. It’s a great way to vacation and learn at the same time. Good food, great wine, and interesting people from around the world. We’ll do it together, if you like. I’ve been wanting to take a cooking class in France.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she continued to dip the crusty bread in the egg. It was amazing the pleasure he derived from watching her eat. He leaned in and ran his finger over her lip, wiping away a drop of yolk that she’d missed with her napkin. Before he withdrew his finger, she licked it, sending a super charge to his groin. His imagination, steps ahead, pictured her splayed on the kitchen counter. Damn. No time for fun and games. Which was a reminder that he needed to tell her about his call with Max and their dinner plans.

  “Angel, I heard from Max Jaeger. He’s flying in today and I’ve invited him to dinner at the apartment in Florence. I thought we’d drive up this afternoon, but we need to make a stop in town and pick up some ingredients, and the Ferrari needs gas. I thought I’d whip up a zuppa di pesce with garlic toast, and salad. We can pick up cannoli for dessert, and you can practice your sous chef skills.” He winked.

  Her eyes glowed with pleasure. “I’m so excited to do something normal, like being your sous chef.”

  “Me too. Once we’ve solved this case, I hope you don’t get too bored with normal.”

  “Me? You’re kidding, right? You’re the jet-setter.”

  “The only jet-setting I’m interested in has to do with spoiling a certain lady.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.

  “Alex, I think we should tell Max what happened to Gerhard. It seems only fair. After all, his family has lived all these years never knowing the truth. At least, it will bring him some closure.”

  “There’s something else I want to tell him.”

  “What’s that?” Her brows lifted in question.

  “I’m going to tell him that the da Vinci belongs to the Uffizi and not a German museum. It must be returned to them.”

  Her face lit up. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’ve given this a whole lot of thought. Max had floated a few ideas about selling it at auction through Christie’s or Sotheby’s or making a grand gesture and donating it to the Staedel in Munich. I’m sure Max will be on board. His primary motive was to clear his uncle’s name. But I don’t think he’ll mind that the painting is returned to the Uffizi.”

  He reached for her hand and kissed her palm. “I know you believe returning the painting is the right thing to do. If that’s what you want, then it’s what I want, too. Besides, I’ll still have the bragging rights.”

  She squealed and jumped into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. She peppered his face with kisses amidst exclamations of delight. That got the dogs barking and wriggling around his legs.

  “Whoa, there’s one more thing I plan on doing,” he said between kisses, his voice laced with laughter.

  “More, what more could you possibly do?”

  “I can insist that a certain art historian get credit for the discovery, and make sure she’s the one to write the seminal paper on the painting.” She stopped kissing him, and leaned back, her eyes wide. His hands cupped her face. “Think of it, baby, no one understands its provenance and the mystery that surrounds it better than you. I shouldn’t have much trouble convincing Celestine to give you the recognition.”

  “You can’t begin to know what this means to me. It’s a once in a lifetime discovery.”

  “Maybe for some, but in your case, I think this is just the beginning.”

  “I do have a confession to make.

  “That you love me?”

  She scrunched up her face. “Of course I love you!”

  “Whew!” He wiped pretend sweat off his forehead.

  “Ever since this whole hunt for the painting
began, I was worried about the whole money side of finding the painting. Even after you told me that you’re wealthy, I still couldn’t imagine anyone being able to turn down that kind of money. I know you’re going to say I’m crazy, but it was always in the back of my mind.”

  He traced the delicate line of her cheek and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Angel, I can’t even remember when that changed. It probably started on that first night at the bar. Baby, I’m in love with you. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I’m in love with you too, Alex.” She met his lips. Whatever reticence he’d felt from her before dissolved in that kiss. He knew the difference immediately. She opened completely to him and he knew it would only get better from here. He ached to be inside of her. He rose with her in his arms. “I see no reason to waste that sentiment. I think we have plenty of time to seal the deal before I put you to work in the kitchen.”

  Chapter 21

  Castellina, Chianti, Italy

  August 17, 2018

  Alberto and Enrico loaded up the rented truck with supplies. Their hired hacker, Madame X, was monitoring Alex’s cell phone calls and it was time to move. Both were dressed in hunting camouflage and boots. Enrico came out of the farmhouse carrying an ice chest, which he placed on the back seat.

  “Alberto, I packed some food. I threw in a couple bottles of wine, just in case.”

  “Good thinking. I promise your efforts will not go unanswered. By the end of today the painting will be ours.” Alberto patted Enrico on the back. “Is the rifle loaded?”

  “No, I wasn’t sure if you would want to load it yourself and take a shot or two.”

  “That’s probably a good idea, although yesterday, when I bagged that stag, the Bergara handled smooth as silk. As I recall on our last hunting trip, I brought down a three-hundred-pound wild boar with one shot.”

  “Don’t remind me. We had a sizeable bet going as to who would bring home the biggest prize.”

  Alberto rummaged through the duffel. “You packed the gloves and balaclavas, didn’t you?”