Private Rome

Chapter 28

Luna spoke some angry words in Italian to him and Antonelli shrugged.

“My daughter refused to accept my offer of protection, so I was forced to take direct action to bring her here,” he explained. “She says I must apologize to you, and of course she is right. I should not have involved you in our family squabble.”

Antonelli spoke to my captors. They backed away to take sentry positions in the shade of the terrace, standing close by the wide French doors.

“Please, Mr. Morgan, have a seat.”

Antonelli gestured to the chair opposite his. The table was laden with antipasti, artisan breads, bottles of water and one of rosé wine in a cooler. Solid silver cutlery gleamed against the pressed, starched tablecloth, and crystal glassware sparkled in the sunshine. A manservant in a white shirt and matching trousers moved a huge parasol to cast the table into shade.

“Please do join us, Jack,” Luna said. “My father isn’t entirely monstrous.”

I took the chair being offered and settled into my seat.

“Bread? Olives?” Antonelli said. “The flour is milled here on the estate and the olives are from the trees you can see on the hillside. You will not find finer anywhere in the world.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but spooned huge green olives and their oil onto my porcelain plate.

I poured some balsamic vinegar around them and took a crust of bread from the basket.

“You will doubtless have done your research,” Antonelli went on, “and reached an opinion of me and my nature. Your research will be incomplete and your opinions improperly formed.”

I soaked up some oil and vinegar with the bread and took a bite.

“For example, do you think a villain could make such beautiful olive oil?” he asked. “It is the finest you have tasted, is it not?”

“It’s very good,” I replied, following the mouthful with an olive. “These too.”

“Very good? This is what you would say to an artist?” Antonelli scoffed. “It is excellent, Mr. Morgan. Perfection even.”

“My father is very proud of his produce,” Luna said.

“Of course,” Antonelli interjected. “It comes from the earth and good earth is tended by good people. It cannot be otherwise. The fruits of evil taste as such.”

“My research would suggest bitter fruit in that case,” I replied.

“Which is why I said your research would be incomplete,” Antonelli responded. “A caricature. Take my daughter, for example. You will most likely have assumed she keeps our connection secret to advance my interests.”

Luna shook her head slowly.

“In truth, she is ashamed of me,” Antonelli revealed. “She hides our connection so it does not hinder her advancement. She does not approve of who I am or what I do.”

I glanced at Luna, who gave me a sheepish nod.

“Of course, she is not so stupid that she does not know my places of business are the safest locations for her to hide.”

Antonelli confirmed what I’d suspected, that the brothel in the tower block was one of his.

“But she is stubborn like her father and will not listen when I say there are things happening that require greater security.”

“What things?” I asked.

“Rome is a city built on power,” Antonelli replied. “The pursuit of it awakens an addiction that can drive people crazy, and every so often someone has — how do you say? — an overdose that makes them crave more and more. Their hunger for power becomes insatiable and they try to take too much. More than is good for them.”

“Who is trying to take it this time?” I asked, biting another mouthful of bread.

“We don’t know,” Luna replied. “But we’re sure it has something to do with the Lombardi murder and Father Brambilla’s death.”

“Whoever it is, they made a grave mistake,” Antonelli said. “Luna is the youngest of my children. Her mother was not my wife. She was my last love, taken from me ten years ago in the most recent power struggle. One of my rivals tried to kill me, but only succeeded in taking Luna’s mother from us. He paid, of course, but I will not see my daughter suffer the same fate as her mother.”

“You think this has something to do with you?” I asked.

“In Rome all things are connected,” Antonelli said. “The people who have targeted you and Luna obviously consider you a threat. Perhaps they think you both know something.”

“About what?” I asked.

“About the reason Filippo Lombardi was killed.”