The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud (19 page)

Mary and the rest of the group looked at him, puzzled.

"You two know each other?" Mary asked.

"Yes, I met Dottoressa Galloni in Turin a few weeks ago. You've all heard of the fire in the cathedral, I'm sure. The Art Crimes Department was-perhaps still is, Dottoressa Galloni?-investigating it."

'And what do you have to do with it?" Mary asked.

"Well, it was COCSA that was doing the repair work in the cathedral. Dottoressa Galloni was looking into certain suspicions she and her colleagues had about the incident."

Marco was struck by D'Alaqua's extraordinary self-possession. He projected absolute innocence without ever acknowledging in the slightest that it might be in question.

"Tell me, Dottoressa Galloni, what was suspicious?" asked one of the women in the group, a princess who appeared in all the society and fashion magazines. "I thought it was a simple accident."

Sofia gave D'Alaqua a wounded look. With one brief comment he'd made her feel awkward, clumsy, as though she'd crashed the party. Paola and Marco looked uncomfortable too.

"When an accident takes place in a site where there are cultural treasures of this magnitude-like the cathedral, in this case-it's our responsibility to consider all the possibilities," Sofia responded.

'And have you reached any conclusions?". the princess asked.

Sofia looked at Marco, who cleared his throat to indicate that he'd take it from here.

"Our job is more routine than it might appear, principessa. Italy has an extraordinary inventory of art of all kinds, as you know, and our job is to preserve it."

"Yes, but-"

Lisa interrupted the princess, calling on a waiter to serve another round of drinks, and most of the group began to drift toward the buffet. John took advantage of the break to take Marco gently by the elbow and lead him to another cluster of guests; Paola followed. But Sofia stood firmly where she was, never taking her eyes off D'Alaqua.

"Sofia," said Lisa, trying to move her away, "I want you to meet Professor Rosso. He's head of the excavations at Herculaneum."

"What is your specialty, Dottoressa Galloni?" asked Mary.

"I have a Ph.D. in the history of art, and I did my undergraduate work in Italian philology and dead languages-Aramaic, Latin, that sort of thing. I speak English, French, Spanish, Greek, and pretty good Arabic."

She had spoken with pride, but she realized too late that she'd sounded ridiculous, pedantic, trying to impress these people who could not have cared less who she was or what she knew. She was furious at herself and at being put under their microscope, observed like some exotic specimen by these beautiful women and powerful men.

Lisa tried again. "Coming, Sofia?"

"Lisa, let us have Dottoressa Galloni a litde while longer. This is very interesting."

D'Alaqua's words took Sofia by surprise. Lisa turned away, resigned, but drew Mary along with her. Suddenly Sofia and D'Alaqua found themselves alone.

"You seem uncomfortable, Dottoressa Galloni. Is anything wrong?"

"I am uncomfortable, and I expect you know why."

'Ah, well, you shouldn't be upset with Mary, in any event, for her genuine interest in your work. She is an extraordinary woman, really-intelligent and sensitive, and her question was absolutely innocent, believe me."

"I suppose so."

"The truth is, you and your friends have come to the party to see me, isn't that right, Dottoressa Galloni?"

Sofia felt herself flushing. Once again he had scored a direct hit.

"My boss is a friend of John Barry's, and I… I…"

'And you left my office with nothing, so you and he decided to arrange a coincidence-what a surprise, meeting here like this! Too obvious, Dottoressa Galloni."

Sofia's face burned. She wasn't prepared for this duel, for the frankness of this man, who was so sure of his own superiority and who looked at her with amusement.

"It isn't easy to meet with you."

"No, it isn't, so now that we're here, go ahead and ask whatever you'd like."

"I told you: We suspect that the supposed accident in the cathedral was no accident and that only some of the men who work for you could have set the fire, but why?"

"You know I have no answer for that question. But you have a theory, so tell me what it is and I'll see if I can help you."

At the other end of the terrace, Marco was observing them with amazement, as were the Barrys. At last, John couldn't contain his irritation at the situation any longer and sent Lisa to liberate D'Alaqua.

"Sofia, forgive me, but Umberto has so many friends here who want to talk to him, and you're monopolizing him, my dear. James is looking for you, Umberto."

Sofia felt like a fool.

"Lisa, it's I who is monopolizing Dottoressa Galloni. You'll let us finish our talk, won't you? It's been a long time since I've have such a fascinating conversation."

"Oh, of course, I… well, if you need anything…"

"It's a gorgeous evening, the party is lovely, and you and John are wonderful hosts. I'm so happy you've invited me to share this with Mary and James. Thank you, Lisa."

Lisa beat a quick retreat back to her husband and whispered something in his ear.

"Thank you," said Sofia.

"Please, Dottoressa Galloni, don't underestimate yourself!"

"I never have."

"I think you may have tonight."

"It was stupid for us to come."

"It was obvious, I'll admit. And our hosts' discomfort confirms that they engineered this litde 'encounter.' I'd be surprised if Mary and James knew about it, though."

"They don't-or didn't. I'm sure they're wondering why Lisa invited us, though, because we're totally out of place. I'm sorry; it was a mistake."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Your question?"

"Yes. I'd like to know your theory of the crime-or alleged crime."

"We believe that someone wants the shroud-whether to steal it or destroy it, we don't know. But we're sure the fire was related to the shroud-and so were all those other so-called 'accidents' in the cathedral in the past."

"That's an interesting theory. Now tell me who you suspect, who you think might want to steal or destroy the shroud, and-especially-why."

"That's what we're looking at now."

'And you have no clues that bear out your suspicions, am I right?"

"That's right."

"Dottoressa Galloni, do you think I want to steal or destroy the shroud?"

D'Alaqua's words were spoken with a hint of mockery that amplified Sofia's sense of ridiculousness.

"I won't say we suspect you directly, but it's possible that some employee of yours might be involved."

"My human-resources man at COCSA, Signor Lazotti-I gave strict orders that he cooperate with you fully. Has he?"

"Yes, we have no complaint there. He's been very efficient and very generous with his time, and he sent us a long report on all the information I requested."

"Then allow me to ask you one more question, Dottoressa Galloni-what did you and your boss expect from this 'chance encounter' with me this evening?"

Sofia lowered her head and took a sip of champagne. She had no answer to that, at least no legitimate answer. You couldn't give a man like D'Alaqua excuses like "Marco had a hunch." For the second time, she felt she'd failed some subtle test.

She shrugged lightly and smiled. "We thought we'd just come and see what happened, Signor D'Alaqua."

"Shall we have something to eat?"

Startled by his abrupt change in course, Sofia looked at him. Had she heard right? But then Umberto D'Alaqua took her gently by the elbow and led her to the long buffet table. James Stuart, accompanied by the Minister of Finance, strolled over to them.

"Umberto, Horacio and I were having a little argument over the effect that the Asian flu is going to have on the European markets this year…"

Sofia listened as D'Alaqua outlined his interpretation of the Asian economic crisis, stunned by his mastery of the subject. She soon found herself drawn into the debate with the Minister of Finance and contesting some of Stuart's points, while D'Alaqua listened with interest. When their litde group broke up, she and D'Alaqua seated themselves at a table with other guests, where he continued to be attentive and charming. Sofia could see that he was at ease and enjoying himself, and she felt herself relaxing too.

"Your friend is delightful." Mary Stuart's cheery voice brought Marco back to reality as he watched his dazzling colleague across the terrace. Or was it Paola's surreptitious nudge in his ribs?

"Yes, she is," Paola replied. "Intelligent, accomplished, and charming."

'And lovely," Mary added. "I've never seen Umberto so interested in a woman. She must be exceptional if Umberto is so taken with her. He looks so happy, so relaxed with her."

"He's single, isn't he?" Paola asked.

"Yes, but we've never understood why. He's got it all-intelligence, looks, education, culture, money- and he's a wonderful person in the bargain. I don't know why you don't see more of him, John, and you, too, Lisa."

"Mary, dear, we don't actually travel in Umberto's circles. Nor yours-even if you are my favorite sister."

"Oh, Lisa, don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly, sweetheart. In my daily life, I don't run across ministers or bankers or multinational businessmen. There's no reason for me to. Or for John to."

"Well, you should see more of Umberto. He loves archaeology. He's financed several digs, and I'm sure you two have a great deal in common," Mary insisted.

It was almost one o'clock when Paola reminded Marco that she had to get up early the next day. Her first class was at eight. Marco asked her to tell Sofia they needed to go.

"Sofia, we're leaving," Paola said, leaning over the dottoressa's chair. "Do you want us to drop you off?"

"Thanks, Paola, I'd appreciate it."

D'Alaqua rose as Sofia did, kissed her hand in farewell, and promptly extended the same courtesy to Paola. He smiled, but his eyes had turned distant again. From time to time, as they had talked, Sofia thought she glimpsed something else there. But she read him perfectly now.

As Lisa and John accompanied them to the door, Sofia glanced a last time at the terrace. Umberto D'Alaqua was conversing animatedly with a group of guests.

They were barely in the car before Marco's curiosity got the better of him.

"So spill it, dottoressa; tell me what the great man said."

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Well, Marco, he
did
say it was more than obvious that we'd come to the party to see
him.
He made me feel like an absolute fool, caught flat out in a lie. And he asked straight out-dripping with sarcasm, of course- whether we thought that he was the one after the shroud."

"That's it?"

"The rest of the night we talked about Asian flu, oil prices, art, and literature."

"Well, you two certainly seem to have hit it off," Paola said.

"I suppose we did, in a way, but that's it."

"He might not think so," Paola insisted.

"You two planning on seeing more of each other?" Marco asked.

"No, I don't think that's going to happen. He was charming, as I said, but that's it."

"And that hurts."

"I guess if I was to be perfectly honest about my emotions I'd say it does, but I'm a big girl. I'll get over it."

"Which means it hurts," said Marco, grinning.

"You make a nice couple." Paola wouldn't give up.

"It's nice of you to say so, Paola, but I'm not kidding myself. A man like Umberto D'Alaqua isn't interested in a woman like me. We have nothing in common."

"You have a
lot
in common," Marco insisted. "Mary told us he loves art and archaeology, even finances excavations, sometimes goes on digs himself. And you, in case you didn't know, are also intelligent, educated, cultured, and gorgeous-right, Paola?"

"Well, of course. Mary even made a point of telling me that she'd never seen D'Alaqua as interested in a woman as he was in you tonight."

'All right, you two, let's drop it. The bottom line is that he told me in no uncertain terms that we'd crashed the party. Let's hope he doesn't lodge a protest with some government minister or president somewhere."

It was raining steadily, but a crackling fire enhanced the comfortable masculine luxury of the room, a library. Several paintings by Dutch masters revealed the sober taste of its owner. Settled on rich leather couches, the six men were deep in conversation.

They stood as the door opened and their elderly chief entered. One by one they stepped forward to embrace him. He motioned to them to resume their seats. "I'm sorry to be late, but it's hard to get anywhere in London at this hour. I couldn't get out of my bridge game with the duke and his friends and our brothers."

A soft tinkling sound at the door announced the butler, who entered to remove the tea service and offer the men drinks. When they were once again alone, the elderly man was the first to speak

'All right, then, let's have a review."

"Addaio has confined Zafarin, Rasit, and Dermisat to his estate outside Urfa. The penitence he's imposed on them is to last forty days, but my contact assures me that Addaio will not let it go at that, that he's preparing something further for them. As for sending a new team, he hasn't decided about that yet, but sooner or later he
will
send one. He's concerned about Mendib, the prisoner in jail in Turin. Apparently he's had a dream, one he can't shake, that Mendib will bring ruin to the community. Since then, he hardly eats, and he's not himself. My contact fears for his health and for what he might decide to do."

The man who had spoken was middle-aged, with a thick beard and skin tanned dark brown. He was well dressed, straight-backed, and spoke in an impeccable upper-crust accent. His bearing and presence were those of a retired military officer, accustomed to discipline and order.