Private Rome

Chapter 86

The plan with the bus had been Valentina’s idea. She knew Amr and most of his friends were die-hard Roma fans and that sheer force of numbers could overwhelm any police van or escort vehicles. As it was, Inspector Esposito had underestimated the resources at our disposal, so hadn’t had an escort of any kind.

To avoid any of his friends learning where we were staying, Amr had the bus drop us off on Via delle Ancore, about twenty minutes’ walk from the warehouse. He left the vehicle and joined us on the short journey to make sure we got there safely.

Justine and I walked side-by-side, and even though it didn’t feel right to hold hands in these circumstances, our fingers kept brushing together. In the end, I didn’t care what the others thought. I took her hand, and she smiled at me all the time we were on the dark street.

When we arrived at the warehouse, there was a young woman inside who’d set up a table of serving dishes laden with food. She was of Middle Eastern extraction and wore tight jeans and a retro Madonna T-shirt.

“This is my sister Amina,” Amr explained. “She’s brought the food my aunt made for us. There’s kolkas, a taro root stew, koshari, which is lentils, macaroni and rice, and kebab hala, a dry beef stew, plus vegetables, baladi bread and rice. Whatever happens, you will not starve in Rome.”

“Thank you, Amr and Amina,” I said, and the others concurred.

Amina gave us plates and made sure we helped ourselves to plenty of food before joining us in a makeshift dining area between the crates and boxes that formed Amr’s stock.

“Thanks,” I said to my colleagues and new friends.

“Anytime,” Mo-bot replied.

Justine smiled.

“They say you’re a wanted man, as are many of your known associates,” Valentina revealed, looking up from her phone.

“Sorry,” I offered.

The roll shutter rose suddenly and Sci and Faduma entered.

“What’s that smell?” he asked. “It’s amazing.”

“Food over there,” Mo-bot replied. “Courtesy of the Badawi family.”

“Help yourself,” Amr said.

“I will,” Sci assured him.

I introduced Sci and Faduma, and when they had loaded their plates, they joined us.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Altmer is dead. Someone tried to frame me, and they almost succeeded. I got arrested,” I replied. “But Valentina hatched a plan, and these guys sprung me.”

“Standard Morgan night out,” Sci replied.

“And you?” I asked.

“We were able to get a bug inside,” Faduma replied.

“Only because she’s got nerves of steel,” Sci interjected.

Faduma waved away the praise. “We saw Milan Verde meeting with Stefano Trotta.”

“The minister we saw at Elia Antonelli’s house?”

Faduma nodded.

“So, Antonelli might have been lying about having no connections to the Dark Fates?” I suggested.

“Seems that way,” Sci replied.

“And we’ve learnt the priest who befriended me isn’t what he seems,” I said. “And before he died, Altmer said something.”

The whole group waited expectantly.

“His last words were that Matteo is lying,” I revealed, and saw their expressions of shock.

Like me, they would be struggling to believe that our colleague, the man who was at the heart of this investigation, might not have been completely honest with us.