Private Monaco

Chapter 52

“Where’s Sci?” I asked when Justine and I returned to the apartment.

There was no sign of him anywhere and the whole place was very still. Mo-bot hardly moved when she was at her computer, and casual observers might have been forgiven for thinking her a sculpture: the white-hat hacker at work.

“He went for food,” she said, glancing round. “You two look as though you could use a drink.”

I nodded, and she rose and crossed the living room to the kitchen. Sci had bought a couple bottles of liquor when we’d stocked up at the grocery store, and Mo-bot settled on a spiced rum. Justine and I went to the terrace while Mo-bot took three glasses from one of the cabinets and followed us outside with the bottle.

Music filled the night. Thudding from bars, blaring from apartments, disco lights flashing here and there, the noise of crowds from the seafront and the hum of late-night traffic combined to give a sense of a vibrant, lively city. Everywhere was heaving, from apartments in the buildings around us to incoming sports fans in the streets. The hotels and bars closer to the sea were all packed. Our grim investigation seemed at odds with the city’s party atmosphere.

Justine and I sat on one of the couches beside the glass barrier that marked the edge of the terrace. Mo-bot took the couch opposite and placed the glasses on the table between us. She proceeded to pour three generous measures of rum.

“No frills,” she said, handing us our glasses.

“None needed,” Justine replied.

“Thanks,” I added.

“Hey!” Sci called out.

I glanced over to see him step into the living room carrying a stack of pizza boxes.

“Where’s mine?”

“Grab a glass,” Mo-bot told him.

He hurried to the terrace and deposited four boxes on the table. As the rich smell of sauce and melted cheese filled the air, I realized I was starving.

Sci went inside, grabbed a glass, returned to take a seat next to Mo-bot, and watched expectantly as she poured him a drink.

“Cheers,” he said, and the four of us raised our glasses in salute.

I took a swig. As the warm rum hit my empty stomach, I needed food more than ever.

“Pepperoni for Mo and Jack,” Sci said, distributing the boxes. “Napoli for Justine and four cheeses for me.”

We said thanks as we took the pizzas.

“What did you find?” Mo-bot asked.

I sighed. “Duval was a member of Propaganda Tre. I can’t believe I was played by him.”

“Me neither,” Mo-bot remarked. “His background check was clean. It takes real skill not to leave a trail I can find.”

We were silent for a moment. Sci opened his pizza box, picked up a slice and took a bite.

“We’re only human,” he remarked. “Eat. Everything will seem better then.”

I nodded and started on mine. He was right, I felt better after the first mouthful.

“There’s no way Carver is part of this, is there?” Mo-bot asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t see it, but if you’d asked me if Duval was clean, I’d have given you the same answer up until earlier today.”

“You can’t feel bad for trusting him,” Justine said. “I’m trained to spot liars, and he got the better of me too.”

“These groups are designed to be invisible,” Sci added.

“Why did they kill him?” Justine asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe they knew we were getting close? Or maybe he’d betrayed them somehow? I can’t imagine being in a group like that, engaged in such evil, unable to really trust anyone because everyone around you is crooked.”

“I’ve been looking at what Rome police uncovered during the prosecutor’s investigation of Milan Verde,” Mo-bot said between mouthfuls. “Like us, they believe the Dark Fates are the street arm of Propaganda Tre. Thugs and enforcers used for dirty work.”

“But they believed they’d smashed both groups,” Sci remarked.

“So did I,” I replied. “But they wouldn’t be able to smash parts of the organization that stayed hidden. Particularly those outside Italy.”

“Do you think Duval joined recently?” Justine asked. “Or was he a member when he was in government?”

“It’s a good question,” I replied. “And I think there’s only one way we’ll find out the answer.”