“And what, Mr. Blessing, is it you find so fascinating that you would be staring at me like that? Doubtless, you’ve further intentions to steal my virtue,” she said with a wide smile. The rhythm of her Irish-accented English brought back so many rich, warm memories for him.
“My darling, I find everything about you fascinating and am only too happy to do anything you would like me to with your virtue. That and I love looking at you. I have from the moment I met you,” he said. His smile was warm and adoring.
“Go on with ya,” she said and smiled more broadly. “I’m sure you tell that to all the women in Rome when I’m not around to protect you from yourself. Besides, I’ve been working all day; I’ve worn all my makeup off and my hair looks like straw.
“Add to that, Italians use garlic in everything. I swear they would put it in their coffee if they could. No doubt they’ve tried. That accounts for a dreadful case of dragon breath that no amount of mints and brushing will banish,” she said and waited for what had better be the correct response.
Julian continued to smile and study her. “Ailís, you are one of those women who look perfect without makeup. It could never hope to enhance perfection.”
She pursed her lips. He was doing well. So far.
“As for your hair,” he continued, “it is tousled, wild even. It gives you that devil-may-care look people find fascinating, fashionable and undeniably sexy.”
She smiled, tilted her head to best advantage, and pretended to examine her menu.
“You do have dragon breath and I meant to mention it to you.” He reached across the table with a package of mints. “‘Never turn down a breath mint.’ I think Oscar Wilde said that.”
Her eyes filled with fire and her mouth was twisted with outrage. “You animal. You are nothing but a hateful animal and will be punished for your impudence and your ignorance,” she hissed.
“Ignorance? Do you mean it wasn’t Oscar Wilde?” Julian said and raised his eyebrows with the mock surprise and the expectation that she would explode at any moment.
She was still sputtering some minutes later when the waiter arrived to take their order. The man smiled, quickly turned and left, but not before he heard Ailís spit, “Isn’t it men who are the worst of creatures and you are the worst man in the world.”
The waiter had been a waiter long enough to know when his presence somewhere might prove hazardous to his health. He expected a crater to develop at table seven and he didn’t want to be collateral damage.
***
Ailís woke the next morning in a much mollified frame of mind. She showered, dressed and smiled at Julian as he lay sleeping. “I do rather love him,” she said to herself. Her smile was extravagant.
She studied the planes of his face, a face she had come to know so well. She looked at his hair, going a distinguished gray at the temples. She examined the scar on his cheek. “You brought that on yourself trying to save the village,” she whispered. “You should have died from that beating, but you’re too stubborn.”
Her smile was soft, but the corners of her mouth turned down and she closed her eyes. “And I nearly lost you that time. I won’t give you up so easily again.”
She opened her eyes and the smile returned as she watched Julian turn onto his side. “I stitched that gash up and did a very fine job of it too. I don’t know whether you look more delicious with or without it. With, I think,” she mused.
She leaned over, brushed his hair aside and kissed his forehead. Ailís turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.
***
The front desk clerk called to her as she passed. The man rushed around the counter.
“Dottoressa Dwyer, this arrived moments ago for signore Blessing. Should I give it to him or would you accept it?” The man inclined his head and smiled his eagerness. Doctors regularly stayed in the hotel but female doctors, and one as beautiful as this Irish doctor, were rare and needed to be savored, preferably at close range. The clerk was Roman and so understood such things.
Ailís took the offered note. It was a delivery notice from an international overnight delivery company. It gave an address on Via Venit Settembre. She recognized it as being near the hospital.
“It is a gentleman you are,” Ailís said and smiled. “I’ll take it and pick up the package after I finish at the hospital. No need to bother Mr. Blessing.”
The clerk beamed, took her hand and kissed it lightly. Ailís decided she liked Romans.
***
Bernini’s magnificent fountain sculpture of the Four Rivers, topped by the Obelisk of Domitian, sat unappreciated as two police officers walked by, captives to their own thoughts.
The piazza was an amalgamation of restaurants, bars, tourist shops and covered stalls for artists, selling everything from poor quality da Vinci knock-offs to caricatures of Barack Obama. Usually full of tourists, it was populated by office workers returning from lunch and street vendors visiting with each other.
Inspector Saviano paid little attention to the catcalls that came her way from a group of four men in their late twenties, seated on cement benches that fronted the fountain. It was a normal, if unpleasant, part of Italian life. Her assessment had been incisive and decisive. Businessmen recovering from a too large and too liquid lunch judging by their fashionable suits, expensive ties and slurred speech.
The inspector left the calls in her wake, but heard them rise again with entirely too much enthusiasm. She stopped and turned. Her partner sighed heavily and shook his head.
An attractive, slim, and shy young woman, an intern perhaps, had become the latest target of admiration from the men on the benches.
The inspector walked back and intercepted the young woman as she came forward. Taking her by the arm the inspector whispered, “Come with me.”
Both women stopped in front of the men. The youngest, with a licentious grin and a cock-sure attitude, stood and approached. “Sit,” the inspector said. The man grinned more broadly and Enrico Marino crossed his arms and awaited the fireworks.
“Ah, cucciola mia.” He said it in the same way one would speak an endearment to a puppy.
Enrico’s expression was pained, but he couldn’t look away. His partner took her identification card out of her jacket pocket. It was for form. She had to identify herself. Bella held it uncomfortably near the man’s face.
“I am supposed to be afraid of that? It makes me want you all the more, my pretty one.” His comrades laughed. The young girl tried to slip away, but Bella captured her arm again and brought her back.
The inspector put her warrant card away. She smiled up at the man and said, “A big man like you, afraid of my police ID card?”
Enrico groaned.
“No, you should be afraid of this,” Bella said and drove the knuckle of her index finger hard and fast into the man’s sternum.
It wasn’t a punch, it was a press and she followed the man using his own imbalance against him. He stumbled backwards falling heavily into his friends. A lot of expensive suits ended up on the ground.
“Stay where you are,” the inspector barked as the men scrambled out from under each other. “Let me explain something to you.” She sat on the bench and brought her companion along. "I am all about options.
“This is the first option. There are four of you. I will hurt two of you and arrest two of you. I haven’t decided for what, but I will think of something career-ending for you. You can decide who gets what.” Bella smiled sweetly. “My friend and I will wait.” She smiled again at the young women beside her and patted her hand. A snarl followed as the inspector dared the men to get up.
After a few moments of surly looks and hushed obscenities, the inspector said, “I am heartbroken you do not like my first option. I was looking forward to it. Still, I will offer another. She turned to her young companion.
“Cara, do you pass by here every day?” the inspector asked and the woman nodded and looked embarrassed.
“And do these fools verbally assaul
t you every day?” The woman nodded hesitantly and looked at the ground.
“It isn’t assault. It’s a compliment,” the first man down said with heat.
“Is it a compliment if I come over there and kick the balls right off of you? Shut up before I give you a compliment that will deny your momma any grandchildren. As if!” Bella spat.
“You!” the inspector pointed at the largest of the four. “Come here.”
The man scrambled to his feet. “Sit. Give this nice young woman your business card,” Bella said. The man looked confused. The inspector grabbed the man’s tie and pulled. “Business card. Now! And write your cell number on the back.”
He reached into his coat pocket, fished out his wallet and wrote his number as instructed. Bella gave the man’s card, and one of her own, to the young woman.
“Good. Here is the second option. This is more complex. I know none of you are very smart, so follow along.” She turned her attention to the young woman. "Cara, going or coming from wherever you go or come from, you are to call this clownish sort of man.” Bella pointed so everyone understood who the players were. “He will escort you.” The man opened his mouth, but self-preservation closed it for him.
“You,” she turned her frightening attention to the man. “You will escort this young lady. Should she encounter any name calling, or whistling, or abuse of any sort you will beat whoever commits such sins. You must do this with vigor, capisci?”
“If his performance is poor, call me,” the inspector said to the girl. "At that time, we will return to my favorite option.”
Bella stood and whispered to the woman, “He isn’t bad looking and he has a nice ass, no?” The young woman blushed and nodded. With vigor.
The inspector returned to her partner and they continued on their way. “Enrico, amore mio,” she said, “are you the only man worth knowing?”
The big sergeant thought a moment and said, “For you, Bella? Most definitely, I am the only one.”
Chapter Three
The accent on the telephone was distinctive and the phrasing one-of-a-kind. “Professor, thank you for calling. It’s good to hear your voice,” Julian said. Professor Reginald Bragonier, professor of history at Trinity College Dublin, was the British husband of Julian’s mentor, Bridget.
“Julian, old son, this is ugly business. It likes me not that our Ailís is missing. What hear you from the authorities?” the professor asked.
“Nothing has come from the police other than they are doing everything they can to find her.”
Julian continued with the sequence of events. “She finished her shift at the hospital and we were to meet for dinner as usual. I talked with the Chief of Staff at the hospital. He confirmed she was coming to meet me. It seems strange though.”
“Strange in what way, my boy?” the professor asked.
“Ailís told Dr. Stefani she had to go pick up a package. But that was all. The front desk clerk said he gave her a package delivery notice. The police will be running that down, but I plan on following up as well. She never mentioned a package to me and I talked with her on the phone this afternoon. It may have slipped her mind, but she is always so detailed,” Julian said.
“Ah, well, that is…” the professor burbled and stalled before coming out with it. “That would be my fault I’m afraid. You see, I sent you some documents by overnight express,” the professor finished in a rush.
“What express service? The clerk couldn’t remember the carrier so I’ve been checking with all of them. I have just two to go. Which carrier, professor? And documents? What kind of documents?”
“I will look through my papers for the carrier as we talk. As to the other, I ran across an obscure reference to the Roman coins you found here in Ireland. Like any historian, I went to work digging deeper. I found a gold mine. I felt some of my research findings were highly volatile politically. I don’t mean historically, but today.”
“Volatile in what way and would they be volatile enough for someone to take Ailís?” Julian demanded as his heart thundered and his focus narrowed.
“Let’s say religiously and politically explosive. Events in the Vatican, and elsewhere today, can trace their lineage directly to the documents I unearthed. The papers would be volatile from any point of view. At least, that’s where the evidence points.
“Julian, I’ve not nailed it down yet, but I’m on to something important and very likely dangerous,” the professor ruminated. “Could it have lead to this sort of thing? I have to answer, it is possible.
“Copies were sent to a colleague of mine in the antiquities department at Sapienza University there in Rome, for further study. He has access to local resources I do not,” the professor said and then continued.
“You were correct. I never doubted you by the way. The treasure you unearthed here was only half of what it should have been. The other half never left Rome.”
“Literally, ancient history, professor. I still don’t understand. How could it still be dangerous two thousand years after the fact?” Julian asked.
“Well, my young friend,” the professor said trying to lighten a darkening mood, “be careful how you use the word ancient. I’ve been called that and I’m still dangerous enough. As for the how of it, I will leave my colleague to explain.”
“I will contact him. But tell me, how is Bridget?”
“Yes, well, when confronted by one’s own ignorance of the ways of history, it is always best to change the subject,” the professor said and, moved by the force of the professor’s snort, Julian smiled in spite of himself.
“My Bridget is doing swimmingly. The woman positively blossoms when in my presence. Wait, I better not say that aloud. She nearly destroyed me the last time.”
Julian heard the professor’s chuckle and couldn’t help but smile again. The professor supplied the name of the overnight service and the waybill number, and the name of his fellow professor in Rome.
“Thank you for calling me back professor. When I know more I will let you know,” Julian said.
“Before you ring off, I have something more,” the professor said and Julian remained silent.
“We are all concerned Julian - Bridget, Moira and the rest. Concerned for our Ailís of course, but concerned for you as well. Have a care son. We live in a wicked world.”
“I’ll be careful professor,” Julian said and hung up the phone. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling trying to see into the past, trying to connect with Ailís.
Past viewing was a talent he had exhibited early on and his teacher, Moira Hagan, had encouraged and helped him to develop it. Julian felt he wasn’t very good at it because he couldn’t control the visions.
While others could see into the future, Julian was able to see past events as if watching reruns on television. Sometimes, he would see pieces of the very distant past while at other times, he was able to clearly watch events unfold near the present. He could not control what he saw or when.
He fell into an exhausted sleep seeing another of former Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s fraud trials. For Berlusconi, the past, the present and the future looked pretty much the same.
***
“Inspector Saviano, I really don’t need any help. I just want to ask a few questions,” Julian said as they hurried down Via Sasilina and closed in on the express delivery service.
“Signore Blessing, although you make a valiant attempt at speaking Italian, it is not sufficient to find out the time of day. Secondly, the businesses in Italy do not like it when foreigners burst into their offices and start demanding answers. I, however, am the police and charming so they always make an exception for me.
“Am I not charming, signore Blessing?” Her partner, Asst. Capo Enrico Marino, rolled his eyes and looked bored.
“Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?” Julian said, his thoughts miles away.
“I see my charm is lost on you, signore,” the inspector answered with derision dripping from her lips.
Once inside, the sergeant found the district manager. They spoke for a moment and Marino returned with a slip of paper and whispered something to his inspector.
“Enrico, you are a treasure. Bring these men to me one at a time,” the inspector said and Marino disappeared into the labyrinth of cartons and package carts.
“Here, we will use this conference room. Enrico says he has the names of the men who were working when your package arrived. Enrico is very valuable. He has many cousins. In this case the manager is his third cousin. Because of this sort of thing, he and I are able to accomplish much,” the inspector said.
“I am taking your word for the importance of this package. Perhaps one of these men will have something of value to tell us. This, you may notice, makes these men far more valuable than you since you have failed to provide anything of substance about yourself or your true business in Rome,” the inspector said.
“I am a tourist,” Julian began. “I am looking for a package that was sent to me from Ireland. A package that has gone missing. The person who picked it up has gone missing also. You are being kind enough to assist me. What else is there to say?” Julian replied.
With a sigh and a shake of her head, Inspector Saviano made a face and said, “Tourists are not often thrown into the back of limousines and taken to secret meetings with one of the most powerful men in the Vatican. I speak, of course, of Cardinal Luciano. Members of the Russian mafia are also not following random tourists. So, you don’t mind if I doubt your tourist story.”
“Your sergeant is coming with some people. I can tell you, not one of these men knows anything,” Julian said.
Enrico Marino opened the door and roughly shoved a small, balding, bespectacled man into the room.
The inspector said, “Sit,” and her assistant forcefully introduced the man to a chair.
The questioning began and Julian again said, “He knows nothing,” but the inspector fixed him with a glare. Julian left to, as he said, ‘wander.’ He walked through a canyon of cartons, containers, packages, boxes of all shapes and sizes and rooms of machinery. The building seemed never-ending. Individual packages lost their shape as they formed heaps on the backs of overburdened carts.
Echoes Through the Vatican: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 2) Page 3
