The Malaspiga Exit (24 page)

Carpenter grabbed it. ‘Message received. Unfortunately Cousin Rose left for Malaspiga Castle to complete mission as instructed. Impossible proceed against Malaspiga family without highest authority. This cannot be obtained until after weekend. Attempt to contact Cousin Rose will be made with instructions for her to abandon mission. Raphael.'

Carpenter threw the telex on his desk. She had gone to the Castle to carry out Harper's instructions. To get to the consignment of furniture and identify it. She was shut off from all but a doubtful telephonic link with any kind of help, in exactly the same situation as Firelli. And Firelli had been a tough, highly trained agent, a man who could take care of himself in most circumstances. He put his hands to his head and let his body drop into the chair. If Raphael got a message to her she might still get out. But if Taylor had passed on his warning via Svenson, and Nathan seemed sure that he had, then they were already many hours too late.

When Nathan first confessed, Carpenter had felt confident, thinking in terms of American procedure, where an arrest would have been made in a few hours, no matter how important the suspect. He had forgotten about the slowness and the inequality of European judicial systems. The police did not break in upon a Malaspiga and drive him off to jail without making sure they had official backing for their action.

By the time they got it, and went to Malaspiga Castle, Katharine would be dead. He took the telex up and read it again. Raphael would try to contact her, tell her to get out. Firelli had spoken to Florence but it hadn't helped him. He had never been seen again. He got up and went along the corridor and up in the lift to Ben Harper's office. The office was locked and Harper was gone. There was nothing to keep him on watch all night. Nathan had confessed, the case was opening out and he could afford to go home and sleep.
He
wasn't in love with Katharine Dexter. Carpenter went back to his office. It was after ten o'clock. He dialled Ben Harper's private number.

‘This is Frank,' he said. ‘Sorry to call at home, but I want permission to go to Italy. Tonight.'

There was a pause, and then Harper's voice said, ‘Sorry; I know how you feel, but it can't be done. This is an internal Italian matter, in liaison with Interpol. We have no right to interfere. I can't send you, Frank. You ought to know that.'

‘I've had a telex back from Raphael,' Carpenter said. ‘Kate's gone to the Castle; he can't be sure of contacting her and he can't go and get her out. Nothing can be done to pick the Duke up till they have their goddamned authority. They'll kill her, Ben. I know it. For Christ's sake, I've got to go out there.'

Harper's tone was sympathetic. ‘I know how you feel,' he said. ‘But I can't break the rules. Even if you went, from what Nathan told me, it's probably too late. If it's not, Raphael will get through to her. There's nothing you can do.'

Carpenter held the phone and for a moment he didn't speak. Too late. While they were holding Taylor that morning the Swede was in Italy carrying the message to Malaspiga. Katharine could already be dead, while they were sending telegrams and talking about how to save her.

‘I'm going,' Carpenter said. ‘I'm taking leave, and I'm going. On my own time and unofficially.' He didn't wait for an answer. He hung up. He dialled TWA and booked a seat on the last flight to Rome; it left at eleven o'clock in the evening, and there were two first-class cancellations. All he could think of as he went to his apartment, packed an overnight bag, and drove to Kennedy Airport, was that it might all be a waste of time, a useless gauntlet flung into the face of fate. As Ben Harper said, he was probably too late.

It took an hour to drive to the Villa Romani; the old Duchess decided that it was too hot and she preferred to rest; and at the Duke's suggestion John drove Francescs separately. There was nothing Katharine could do about the arrangement; she was as helpless against his determination to be alone with her as his wife was in trying to prevent it. Her murmur that they could all go together in one car had been completely disregarded.

‘What is so special about the villa?' she asked him as they drove. He stopped at the toll on the autostrada, paid 1000 lire, and the car shot forward.

‘Wait and see.' He turned slightly and she saw me cool, arrogant smile which held warmth only when it was for her. Her head ached and she hated the speed at which he drove.

‘You have a passion for secrets, haven't you? First it's that horrible man's room you won't tell me about, and now it's this villa. You make me feel like a naughty child.'

For a moment his hand left the wheel and pressed hers where it lay in her lap. ‘It's because I feel like a child myself,' he said. ‘Free and happy and excited to be showing you the things I know and love. Bear with me, Katerina. I haven't felt like this for many years.' And there was nothing she could find to say to that. They stopped at the end of an avenue of cypress trees, tall and dark against the brilliant blue sky, having left the autostrada behind them for some seven miles. The Duke got out, paid the custodian who shuffled out from his house in the walls surrounding the villa, and took her through the door in the massive iron-studded main gates.

Fronted by a green lawn, encircled by a blazing mass of camellia trees in full bloom, the Villa Romani gleamed like a fantastic wedding cake. White and pink stucco, a façade of classical statues, and imposing frontal coat of arms in mosaic, pillars and arches and curves, it only lacked the figures of the bride and bridegroom and a giant sword to cut it into slices. It wasn't beautiful, it was stunningly pretty in a ridiculous way. He took her arm and turned down a side path. ‘It was built in the eighteenth century by the Count Romani,' he said. ‘The family have lost all their money and only live in a small part of it. They open it to the tourists. But it's hideous and we haven't come to see that. This way. To the gardens.' He gave her a sly, mocking glance and hurried her on.

The gardens were sunken, and even by the standards of the Villa Malaspiga, with its landscaping and sumptuous trees, they were superb. The descent was from a balustraded staircase in mellow grey stone, guarded by life-size statues, flanked by a pair of nymphs holding conch shells on each shoulder. There were low clipped hedges and the brilliant dwarf plants beloved by Italian gardeners, and everywhere there were statues: centaurs, goddesses, satyrs with leering faces, nymphs with open mouths. Another custodian, dressed in the faded blue of the peasant, came towards them and seemed to recognize Alessandro. The Duke went up to him, murmured something and the old man laughed. He shuffled away and disappeared behind the staircase. He came back to Katharine and she saw him glance up. John Driver and Francesca di Malaspiga were at the top of the steps, leaning over the balustrading and looking down at them. Her cousin didn't wave or call to them. He took her arm and slid his hand down until it closed over her wrist. ‘Let's walk,' he said. ‘Down this way.'

She thought at first there had been a cloud-burst. There was a sudden rushing noise, and the water rained on them from all directions. It spouted from the steps, cutting off their retreat to the top, and jetted from the ground, the flower beds and the statues. Every statue was a fountain; water spouted from the mouths, the eyes, the conch shells. She heard Alessandro laughing and felt him pulling her. They began to run, as the garden came alive with a series of water jets, until only the way ahead of them was clear and behind there was a glittering fountain. There was a tall archway, built under a bridge at the far end; even though they ran they were caught by some of the sprays. ‘In here,' the Duke gasped. ‘Quickly …' Under the archway there was a grotto; for a moment Katharine couldn't see in the dim, almost green light. They stopped inside it. At the back there was a massive stone statue of Neptune with sea-horses rising from waves which had been crusted by water. There were stalactites hanging from the roof and water had misshapen the sculpture till it looked leprous.

‘Now! How do you like the Romani gardens? Have you ever seen a
Giocchi d'Aqua
before?' There was water on his face, and his coat; she could feel drops in her own hair. ‘My darling,' he said, ‘you're wet …'

She knew what was going to happen but she couldn't move. He had his arm tightly round her, and the kisses she had been dreading were being pressed on her mouth. She saw a great double-cross spray of water shoot up at each side of the grotto entrance, sealing them off completely inside. She began to struggle with him: he was very strong. He didn't hurt her but he didn't let her go. For a brief moment her mouth was free. ‘Stop fighting yourself,' he said. Her eyes closed and she opened her lips to him. She felt his grip tighten and then relax. She wrenched her head back, and the wetness on her face came from tears.

‘Don't do that! Let me go …'

‘I love you,' he said. The fountain outside the grotto sank and stopped as suddenly as it had sprung up. A wide pool of water gleamed at the entrance. He was still holding Katharine, looking at her with an expression that she had never seen before.

‘I'll never let you go,' he said quietly. ‘You belong to me. I knew it the first time I saw you.'

She stepped back, pulling his hands away. ‘I don't want to hear any more! You've played your trick with the water joke and it's time to go home.' She walked out through the puddle, pushing her damp hair away from her face. She felt her body tremble; the grotto had been cold and damp. He was behind her and then alongside.

‘You kissed me, Katerina,' he said. ‘Nothing you say can change that. But I made a mistake. I should have talked to you first.'

‘There's nothing to say,' Katharine answered. She could see John Driver and the Duchess watching them from the top of the steps. ‘I'll drive home with them.'

‘You'll come with me,' he said.

‘I'll ask John to take me,' she said. He stopped, catching hold of her wrist.

‘You do that,' he said quietly, ‘and I'll throw him out into the street. If he's in love with my wife, he's welcome to her. But don't let him try to interfere with you!'

They mounted the steps together; she saw them waiting at the top, the Duchess very pale, Driver looking embarrassed.

‘Well.' He sounded false in the attempt to be cheerful. ‘Quite a surprise, isn't it? Great fun.'

‘You should take Francesca there,' Alessandro said coldly. ‘I can recommend the grotto.' He walked so quickly away and towards the gates, pulling Katharine with him, that she almost had to run. He opened the car door for her and slammed it. He got in and started the engine. ‘I should fasten the seat-belt,' he said; then he swung the wheel and the car roared back down the avenue of cypresses and on to the autostrada. It seemed to Katharine that they drove for a long time. She sat tensed up against the speed, hating it and determined not to ask him to slow down. She glanced quickly at him. His face was set, his mouth narrow. The speedometer trembled at 170 kilometres. She didn't recognize the road when they swung off the autostrada through the last toll-gate.

‘Where are we going?' she said. ‘This isn't the road we took from Malaspiga.'

‘We're not going to Malaspiga,' he said. ‘We're going somewhere we can talk.' When she tried to object he didn't hear, because at that moment they crossed a bridge and everything began to rattle and shudder as if they were in a train. The noise was so loud it was impossible to speak. Then it was over and they were on the road again, a narrow road running along the edge of a river mouth. ‘This is the Magra,' he said. ‘The proper bridge fell down last year. We haven't got round to building another because that one we've just crossed happened to be there. It's a Bailey bridge, left over from the war, when the Allies marched through here. Not very efficient, I'm afraid, but that's Italy.'

‘You don't have to be sarcastic,' she said angrily. ‘And you didn't have to drive like a maniac to frighten me.'

‘I'm sorry,' he said stiffly. ‘But I always drive fast when I'm angry. You should have told me to slow down.' She didn't answer him. They were climbing now, leaving the Magra river below them, driving along a mountain road that wound and twisted upwards through the pines and cypress-covered hills. He was driving slowly and she knew it was a concession made to her. ‘Look up,' he said. ‘That's where we're going.'

It was a village, growing out of the top of the hill, dominated by a little sugar-pink church with its Tuscan bell-tower; the streets were narrow, and roughly paved in places. Children played in what passed for a piazza, two old women, clothed in black, walked slowly by, holding each other's arms. The sun was warm, but a soft pink was coming into the sky at the horizon's edge. He turned once more, leaving the village and drew up by the side of a road. ‘This is the most beautiful place in northern Italy,' he said. ‘Monte Marcello.' He leaned over and opened her door. Reluctantly she got out, he came and stood beside her. He took out his cigarette case and lit one for her and another for himself.

‘I'm sorry,' he said quietly. ‘I shouldn't have frightened you by driving like that. I suppose I hoped you would ask me to slow down. I wanted you to give to me a little … It was childish of me, I apologize.'

They were standing at the rise of a hill; below them the ground sloped away for many hundreds of feet to the valley, where the Magra was a stretch of silver, dotted with tiny boats, and the pink-and-ochre-coloured houses of the villages of Ameglia and Boca di Magra looked as if they had been painted into the landscape. Behind them towered the great Carrara mountains, the same mountains which had seemed so cold and sinister with their white marble sides when she had seen them from the Castle. Now they only suggested grandeur and peace, brooding over the lovely scene of river and valley at their feet. As if he understood how the view had affected her, Alessandro put a hand on her shoulder and turned her towards him.