The Rome Prophecy

72

Guilio Brygus Angelis doesn’t go back to the stinking hole he calls home.

He may never go back.

The cops didn’t find anything there, he’s sure of that, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they get lucky.

He learned that a long time ago.

You can take all the precautions in the world, but if you hang around in the same place too long, eventually the cops get lucky. They talk to neighbours, shopkeepers, local kids. They get a hold of you.

Well, he won’t be staying around long enough for that to happen.

It’s starting to rain – a shower, that’s all – but he backs up into the doorway of a cheap souvenir shop.

Doorways are always good places to be.

And this is an excellent one.

It’s the perfect place to watch the comings and goings at the Carabinieri command building right opposite him.

He’s amazed by how many cops come out to smoke.

No sooner are they through the front doors than their big cop hands are jabbing filters in their snarky little mouths and they’re lighting up.

Lieutenant Assante throws down a match as he lights up and walks out into the rain.

Guilio follows him to his car, a beat-up Lancia parked a block away.

Doesn’t look as though the Carabinieri pay very well. There’s a child seat in the back. No doubt his money goes on his kid, or kids. He looks like the type who’ll have as many as his wife will make him.

Guilio notes the number and watches as the cop climbs in and drives off without even putting on his seat belt.

Reckless.

The guy is just asking for trouble.