Private Rome

Chapter 25

Once he’d finished his beer, Amr Badawi suggested I follow him to my new accommodation. We moved through the rough nighttime streets of Ostia, but weren’t troubled by any of the gangs, sex workers or drug addicts we passed. A few nodded greetings to Amr, and I got the impression he was at least respected if not feared in the neighborhood.

He told me how he’d immigrated to Italy with his family as a child; how he’d always dreamt of returning to Cairo but had been kept in Rome by circumstance and opportunity.

“The people in my home country are very similar to people here,” Amr said. “Friendly, expressive, and family always comes first.”

I nodded but couldn’t comment. My knowledge of Egypt was limited to the due diligence I had done when considering whether to set up a Middle East regional head office there. The people I’d dealt with had certainly been friendly and helpful, but I’d decided not to proceed and had parked the idea for now.

“That’s your place,” Amr said, gesturing at an apartment above a brightly lit, gaudy cell-phone store on the corner of Via della Paranzella and Via Orazio dello Sbirro.

His business stood opposite an open square dotted with vacant market stalls. It wasn’t a branded dealership and sold new and reconditioned phones, which might explain why Amr was known to so many of the people we’d passed. Old or stolen phones could be traded for cash in this man’s shop, and I wondered how many questions he or his staff asked about provenance. Signs in English, Italian and Arabic proclaimed the store also did repairs and offered an array of accessories, vapes, shisha pipes and electronic paraphernalia. Products seemed to spill from the entrance like an overflowing laundry basket, and racks and displays clung to the walls and windows of the storefront.

“This way,” Amr said, walking me to an archway two stores beyond his place.

The arch led to an alleyway that ran between two terraces. We walked in heavy shadow to a long yard behind the buildings. We climbed exterior metal stairs that took us to a wooden door. He opened both locks and handed me the keys.

“Don’t lose them,” he instructed. “And don’t leave anything of value inside. There’s no alarm, and the neighborhood is... well, let’s just say, private property is a shades-of-gray concept around here.”

“Got it,” I replied, following him inside.

We entered a small hallway and he switched on the light.

“Kitchen, sitting room, two bedrooms and a bathroom,” Amr told me. “It needs remodeling, but that will have to wait.”

Everything was worn but looked perfectly usable and the place was better than I could have hoped for at such short notice.

“The shop is open twenty-four-seven, so just ask them to call me if you need anything.”

I could hear the vague thump of dance music rising from below. Amr’s store sounded like a lively place.

“Thank you,” I said. “I owe you.”

“This is a business transaction, Mr. Morgan. There is no need for thanks,” he replied. “If you’re all set here, I’m going back to my beer.”

“I’m good,” I assured him, and he shook my hand and left.

I closed the door after him and pulled my phone from my pocket.

Justine answered after a single ring. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I’ve got a new place thanks to Mo-bot’s hacker friend.”

“I hate it when you’re away like this. I feel so helpless.”

“I’m okay.”

“This isn’t about you,” she told me in a tone I recognized. It was meant to remind me she was an expert profiler. “This is about me needing to be there for you. I’m not and I can’t be. Not all the time. I just have to accept that.”

“I’m sorry,” I responded. “I can understand—”

I was cut off by the hum of an incoming call and checked my phone to see who it was.

“It’s Mo-bot. Let me patch her in.”

“Sure,” Justine replied.

I connected Mo-bot to our call. “Mo, you’re on with me and Justine.”

“I don’t want to intrude, but you need to hear this, Jack. Sci and I have identified the tattoos on the shooter who took his own life. He’s a member of Destini Oscuri, the Dark Fates. It’s a brutal criminal gang that’s engaged in just about everything you can imagine. They operate throughout Rome, but the real power base is in Esquilino, one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city, near the Colosseum. Sci’s here with me.”

“Hey, Jack,” he said. “Three of his tattoos appeared to have religious significance. We’ve identified two as articles of faith, but we can’t find anything on the third, a Jerusalem Cross which is the traditional symbol of a knight crusader. This one has three inset fleur-de-lys in each point of the cross.”

“I’ll check it out,” I said. “I’m in the right place to find answers on questions about religion.”

“We’ve got more,” Mo-bot revealed. “Your friend Luna Colombo has gone to great lengths to conceal her true identity. Outwardly, she’s an honest cop who lives alone in a tiny apartment not far from the Colosseum and devotes her life to her job. But there have been name changes, sealed records, the kinds of things you can only do with connections to power. Fortunately for you, even the darkest shadows can’t resist my light.”

“Don’t boast,” Sci cut in.

“Why not? It’s part of the fun,” Mo-bot countered. “And it’s no surprise she’s been able to do things other people can’t,” she told me. “Luna Colombo’s father is Elia Antonelli, one of Rome’s most powerful and notorious mobsters.”

I reeled at the revelation, but as surprising as it was to learn a respected police inspector had an organized crime boss for a father, things suddenly started to make sense. The Pleasure Hall was likely one of her father’s joints, and her secrecy and unwillingness to trust me or her police colleagues was probably rooted in fear of the truth emerging — or, worse, that it had already emerged and marked her out as a target. Had the assassin Mo-bot and Sci identified as a member of the Dark Fates been trying to kill Luna?

“Wow,” I responded.

“Yeah,” Sci said. “A cop with Rome’s kingpin for a dad.”

“Either this wasn’t picked up during vetting, or they’re not strict about family connections here,” I suggested.

“Or dad used his influence to get her on the force,” Justine suggested. “Be very helpful to have a cop you can always count on.”

“I wonder if Matteo knows,” I pondered.

“Hard to say,” Mo-bot responded. “It wasn’t easy to find out. I had to pull copies of old birth records. My guess is he’d only know if she had confided in him.”

“So, she’s connected,” I remarked. “But the question is whether that has any bearing on Brambilla’s murder.”

“You’re going to have to dig,” Sci said.

“First I’ve got to find her,” I replied. “Was she taken because of our investigation? Or because her father is in a beef with someone?”

I was puzzling the angles, trying to figure out how to answer all these questions. Mo-bot’s and Sci’s revelation had added a whole new layer of complexity.

“Let me know if you find anything else,” I said.

“Likewise,” Mo-bot responded. “You have a good night, Jack.”

“Great work. Both of you,” I replied.

“Night,” Sci said, and they hung up.

“I really don’t like how this is going,” Justine observed when we were alone.

“I know. I’ll be careful, and if the going gets too heavy, I’ll ask for the right help.”

She hesitated. I knew she wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t much either of us could do except play the cards we had been dealt.

“I’ll call you as soon as I have news,” I said.

“I love you,” she responded.

“Love you too,” I said, before hanging up.