"Okay, the plan is simple," he began. "You all know that every month the parole board makes the rounds to all the various prisons and jails. On the board there's a judge and a state attorney, psychologists and social workers, and the warden of each installation. They visit all the prisoners, especially those who are approaching the end of their sentences, have demonstrated good behavior, and may have earned some consideration for early out. Tomorrow I'll be in Turin to meet with the board members. I'm going to ask them to mount a little charade."
Everyone listened attentively as he continued.
"I want them to help us gauge the mute's reactions if possible and to also start acclimating him to the idea of release. When they're in Turin next, they'll visit him and talk about him among themselves, the way they always have, thinking he doesn't understand them. Only this time I'll ask the social worker and the psychologist to let it drop that they don't see much sense in keeping him behind bars any longer-his behavior has been exemplary, he poses no threat to society, and, according to the law, he's eligible for parole. The warden will make some objection, and they'll leave. We'll have variations on that played out over the next couple of months, until they finally let him loose."
"Will they cooperate?" Pietro asked.
"The ministers are relaying instructions to the relevant department heads. I don't think anyone will object; when it comes right down to it, they're not turning loose some murderer or terrorist, just a nickel-and-dime thief."
"It's a good plan," Minerva said.
'Absolutely," seconded Giuseppe.
"I've got more. Sofia, you'll like this. Lisa, John Barry's wife, called me. Lisa's sister is a woman named Mary Stuart-who just happens to be married to James Stuart. And James Stuart, in case you didn't know, is one of the wealthiest men in the world. Friend of the President of the United States and heads of state of half the countries in the world-the rich countries, that is- chairmen and CEOs of major international corporations, and most of the bankers on the planet. The Stuarts* daughter, Gina, is an archaeologist, like Lisa, and is spending some time in Rome, in her aunt's house; she's also working on the financing for the excavation at Herculaneum. So here's the deaclass="underline" Mary and James Stuart are coming to Rome in two weeks. Lisa is going to throw a dinner party for them, with a lot of their prominent Italian friends in attendance. And among those friends is your friend Umberto D'Alaqua." Marco nodded at Sofia. "Paola and I are going, and I'm hoping that John and Mary will kindly let me take you, too, Dottoressa Galloni."
Sofia's face lit up, her pleasure obvious. "That's one way to get us closer to this guy," she said wryly. "Probably the only way."
After the meeting, she and Marco chatted for a few minutes.
"I remember Lisa, of course," she said to him. "I wouldn't have thought that a woman like her would have a sister married to a business mogul."
"It's not really that much of a stretch. Their father was a medieval-history professor at Oxford, and they both followed pretty much in his footsteps. Mary studied medieval history just like him; Lisa went into archaeology. Lisa got a fellowship to do her Ph.D. in Italy, and while they remained close, Mary's life took another direction. She went to work at Sotheby's as an expert in medieval art and began to mix with a more rarefied set of people, among them her future husband, James Stuart. They met, fell in love, and got married, and while they lead very different lives than Lisa and John, they apparently are genuinely happy, from what Lisa has to say. Mary prefers high society; Lisa worked hard to make a name for herself in academia. Her sister supports her, as she does her daughter, Gina, by underwriting excavations from time to time."
"Well, we're lucky that you're friends with John."
"Yes, they're both really wonderful people. John is the only American I know with zero interest in making tons of money, and they both really love it here. He resists being transferred anywhere else, and I imagine the Stuarts' influence can't hurt with the embassy."
"You think they'll let you take me to the party?"
"I'm going to ask. D'Alaqua made an impression on you, didn't he?"
"I have to say he did, Marco. Of course, he's one of those larger-than-life personalities that any woman could fall in love with."
"Which is not, I hope, your case."
"No? Why not?"
"Sofia, for heaven's sake, you can't get mixed up with somebody we're investigating, and you shouldn't get mixed up with this guy at all-rich, never married, clearly not looking for the woman of his life…"
"Marco, please. I hope you know my feet are planted firmly on the ground, and there's not a thing- or man-in the world that could change that. Nor is D'Alaqua exactly in my league, for that matter. So not to worry"
"I'm going to ask you a personal question. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me to screw myself. What's going on with Pietro?"
"You don't have to go screw yourself, boss. I'll tell you the truth: It's over. It was going nowhere."
"How does he feel about it?"
"We're having dinner tonight, to talk. But he's not stupid-he knows. I think he feels the same way, honestly."
"I'm glad."
"Glad? How come?"
"Because Pietro's not the right one for you. He's a nice guy, with a great wife who'll be immensely happy to get her husband back. And you, Sofia, one of these days ought to get out of here and start a new career, with other people, other ways of looking at the world. Frankly, the Art Crimes Department is small potatoes for you."
"Marco! Don't say that! Are you trying to tell me something? Don't you know how happy I am here? I don't want to leave; I don't want to change a thing!"
"You know I'm right. But put it on a back burner if it's too much to think about right now. I'm happy to have you as long as you want to stay."
"Your house?" Pietro asked Sofia as they left work later that day.
"No, let's go to a restaurant."
Pietro took her to a small tavern in Trastevere, the same place they'd gone the first time, when their relationship began. It had been a long while since they'd been back. They ordered dinner and talked about small things, putting off the moment when they had to face each other.
Finally, over coffee, Sofia put her hand on his. "Pietro-"
"It's okay. I know what you're going to tell me, and I agree."
"You know?"
'Anyone would. In some things you're an open book."
"Pietro, I care about you, but I'm not in love with you, and I don't want a commitment. I'd like us to be friends and to work together the way we have so far, with no awkwardness or hard feelings."
"Sofia, I love you. Only an idiot wouldn't be in love with you, but I'm well aware that we're from different sides of the tracks-"
Sofia, uncomfortable, made a gesture to stop him. "Don't say that. That's ridiculous."