Private Rome

Chapter 73

Whatever Altmer was doing at the Inferno Bar, neither he nor Milan Verde wanted anyone to know about it. The brutal gang leader came in a couple of minutes after Altmer arrived, greeted him like an old friend, put an arm around his shoulders and shepherded him outside.

Milan returned fifteen minutes later, alone.

There was nothing else in the footage, and for a while Faduma and I puzzled over the incident with Altmer.

“You think they’re laundering funds through the Vatican Bank?” she asked.

“That’s a step up for a street gang,” I replied.

“Or a step down for a bank,” she countered. “Some institutions are desperate for liquidity though.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But what I do find interesting is that this meeting took place after Mo-bot, Sci and Justine were taken into custody. Did they know they were being watched at this point? Were they counting on being able to delete the footage before Justine and the others were released?”

Faduma shrugged, but I couldn’t help feeling the heat of anger building within me. I considered the prospect that someone working for a client might have set us up for arrest or worse.

Faduma stretched. “I’m going to sleep,” she said. “My place is probably too dangerous, so I’ll take a bedroom if that’s okay?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

She got to her feet and headed along the corridor toward the bedrooms. I stared at the image of Altmer, puzzling over the man and his intentions until finally, in the early hours, bereft of answers, my anger smoldering, I fell asleep.

The following morning, I woke on the couch, the computer in sleep mode, the rising sun shining brilliantly through the large windows, the river shimmering beyond.

I stood, stretched and walked along the corridor to the bedrooms. The doors were all open and there was no sign of Faduma, although the bed clothes in the middle room looked to have been slept in.

I heard a noise coming from behind me and crept into the living room to discover her coming in from the main warehouse. She was holding a large paper bag packed with groceries.

“I got some breakfast,” she said, placing the bag on the table.

She started pulling out juice cartons, pastries and spreads.

“I was thinking about Christian Altmer,” she said. “How would you like the chance to talk to him?”