Private Rome

Chapter 50

We finished the meal with an affogato, a double shot of espresso over homemade ice cream, and the conversation turned to Antonelli’s experiences as a child, growing up on this farm. If I hadn’t known better, I could have believed I was listening to a fifth-generation Roman farmer with no passion other than nurturing the finest produce possible from his patch of earth. I kept catching Faduma’s eye. Her suspicion of earlier was clearly gone. She seemed to be enjoying the evening, smiling and asking questions about our host’s early life.

After the dessert we thanked Antonelli and Luna for their generosity. He even invited us to visit again, which made me wonder whether it was lonely being at the top of one of Rome’s most notorious criminal organizations.

“What do you think?” I asked Faduma once we were back in her Volkswagen and on our way into the city.

“I think he was telling the truth,” she replied as she followed the winding road.

Asphalt materialized out of the night and we headed back to the bright lights of Rome. We would glimpse the shining city whenever there was a gap in the creases and folds of the hills. The urban sprawl looked like a magnificent beacon, its ambient glow reaching up toward the stars. I tried to imagine what it would have been like to see it for the first time during the age of empire as a traveler arriving from a simple provincial village. The sheer spectacle of the imperial city must have been breathtaking.

“Video or no video,” Faduma remarked, referring to my gambit earlier tonight to get us into the estate, “if he wanted us dead, we’d be dead by now.”

She checked the rear-view mirror, and I glanced back to see there was nothing trailing us through the darkness.

“I think he was right about Father Carlos’s last words,” I said. “The priest knew his killer.”

“If not Antonelli, then who?” Faduma asked.

“I want to know more about Milan Verde,” I replied. “Father Carlos’s death was exactly the kind of noisy statement the Dark Fates live to make.”

Faduma nodded. “Maybe he’s been using priests to transport money for him?”

“Maybe.”

We followed the snaking road down the side of the valley and soon joined the highway heading into the city. It took us over an hour to cross Rome, reaching Ostia shortly after 1 a.m.

“You didn’t have to drive me,” I told her. “I could have caught a cab in the city.”

“I’d like to take a look at what you’ve got on Milan Verde if that’s okay with you?” Faduma replied.

“So the ride was less of a favor, more a favor for a favor,” I remarked. “If we’re going to work this together, information has to go both ways. You share with me whatever you’ve got.”

“Deal,” she said.

She parked a block from the cell-phone store and we walked the busy streets.

“Exciting neighborhood,” she observed. “Very lively.”

“It suits me,” I replied. “As long as no one else traces me here.”

We walked through the alleyway to the yard behind the terrace and climbed the metal steps up to the apartment. When I reached the door, I sensed something was wrong. I was struck by the feeling that something here was out of place, like when a favorite photo is moved from its usual position or a painting hangs crooked. I realized the grubby welcome mat was not set flush against the bottom of the door frame anymore.

I signaled to Faduma to be silent and crept forward, sliding my key into the lock. I felt the tiny teeth run along the tumbler mechanism. Once they were fast, I turned it gently and slowly pushed the door open.

I moved inside and crept along the corridor, taking great care not to make a sound. I heard people in the living room and sidestepped into the kitchen to slide a carving knife out of the block.

Faduma’s eyes widened. I signaled for her to stay back.

I held the knife ready and pushed the living-room door open.

“Jeez, Jack!” Mo-bot yelled. “What the hell are you doing, wandering around like you’re in a slasher movie?”

I breathed easy and grinned at the welcome sight of Mo-bot, Sci and Justine. The three of them smiled right back at me.