Private Rome

Chapter 53

I woke early the following day. I’d given Sci the bed, despite his protests, and had slept on the floor, which was luxury in comparison to some of the quarters I’d had to endure while serving in the Marine Corps.

He was still asleep, breathing deeply, so I eased the door open and went into the living room where I found Mo-bot and Justine, dressed and ready, running through final gear checks.

“There are pastries on the table in the kitchen,” Justine said.

“Thanks,” I replied, rubbing my hand over my face.

“Thank Mo-bot,” Justine responded.

“I was up early and wanted something to do,” she remarked.

“Earlier than this?” I said.

Mo-bot glanced at her watch. “It’s six-forty-six. That’s not really early. Especially when your body clock is fried from jetlag.”

“What’s the plan?” Justine asked.

“He needs to put some clothes on,” Mo-bot replied.

I had slept in shorts and a T-shirt.

“Then we go to the Inferno Bar?” I suggested.

Mo-bot shook her head. “I don’t think we need the numbers. It will just draw attention. I’ll handle it with Sci. We thought you and Justine could visit our client.”

“I’d like to meet Joseph Stadler’s executive assistant, Christian Altmer,” Justine added, pointing to one of my files. “You said you thought he might be hiding something. I’d like to check him out.”

I nodded. It made sense to see what an expert could pick up from the guy who had roused my suspicions. “Okay. I’ll get dressed when the old man is awake.”

“Who are you calling an old man?” Sci asked, and I turned to see him looking every inch the gnarly biker: Metallica T-shirt, denim vest, jeans and heavy boots. “I’m ready to go catch some bad guys. You?”

“Point taken,” I said, and I headed into the bedroom to get dressed.

Three hours later, Justine and I were walking along Via Sant’Anna, heading for the headquarters of the Vatican Bank. I’d emailed Altmer and secured a 10 a.m. appointment with Joseph Stadler, knowing his executive assistant would join us.

“This is so beautiful,” Justine said, taking in our surroundings.

I saw the Eternal City through her eyes and had to admit it was stunning. The dome of St Peter’s loomed to our left, the white stone walls striking against a cloudless sky. The Papal residence was ahead of us behind the bank, and the street was lined on both sides by delightful old buildings that exuded character.

“I’d like to come back here as tourists one day,” Justine said. “For a visit. No crime. No danger.”

I looked at her and smiled. “Deal,” I responded, and she smiled back at me.

Within minutes, Altmer had taken us through security and we were on our way up to the Chief Operating Officer’s suite. Stadler’s right-hand man seemed more somber than during my last visit and said very little.

We passed through the assistants’ office, and I saw Justine taking in the grandeur of the building and the opulence of the interior.

Altmer led us into Stadler’s room. The powerful executive was seated on a couch, reviewing a bundle of papers.

“Mr. Morgan,” he declared, rising politely as we entered.

“This is my colleague Justine Smith,” I said, and he shook hands with us.

“Very pleased to meet you. Do sit.”

Justine and I took the couch opposite his. Altmer sat in the armchair between us.

“Christian says you wanted to see me about something,” Stadler began.

I nodded and delivered my lie. “We have reason to believe Elia Antonelli is behind what’s happening.”

“What reason?” Altmer asked.

“We can’t say,” Justine replied. I could tell she was studying the young man closely, though in all probability he could not. “But the information checks out.”

“Antonelli?” Stadler said. “What does he have to do with dead priests?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I replied. “We thought you might be able to help, with all your contacts.”

“Does this have anything to do with the priest who was shot?” Altmer asked. “Father Carlos.”

Justine and I exchanged a look. Even I knew he had just revealed too much about himself.

“It might do,” I conceded. “We just don’t know how at this stage.” I turned to Stadler. “Are you aware of any links between Antonelli and the Church?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that is known to me personally, but I can ask around. It is possible he has links he does not publicize. I only know about the bank’s business.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could treat it as a matter of urgency,” I said.

“Of course,” Stadler replied. “Is there anything else we can help with?”

I looked at Justine, who was studying Altmer. She caught my eye and shook her head.

“I think we’re done here,” she replied.