"Vengeance is not the answer," he murmured to them. "I know that you both would be comforted if Maanu was punished, if you could see him die a long and agonizing death. I assure you that he will be punished, because he will have to account to God for the terrible things he has done."
"Do you not say, Timaeus, that God is infinite mercy?" Obodas threw at him, weeping.
"But infinite justice as well."
'And the queen-does she still live?" Izaz asked Harran, fearing the reply.
'After the death of your uncle, no one saw her again. Some servants in the palace say that she died of grief and that Maanu had her body taken into the desert and thrown to the carrion-eaters there. Others say that the king had her killed. No one has seen her. I am sorry, Izaz… sorry to bear such grievous news."
"My friend, the messenger is not to blame for the news he brings," Timaeus said. "Let us pray together and ask God to help us bear our pain at the loss of our loved ones and to take the anger from our hearts."
22
THE NIGHT WAS FILLED WITH THE FRA-grance of flowers. Rome sparkled at the feet of John and Lisa Barry's guests, who were chatting with one another in small groups on the broad terrace that overlooked the city.
Lisa was nervous. John had blown up when, on his return from Washington, she told him that she'd decided to give a party for Mary and James and that she'd invited Marco and Paola. He knew exactly what she was doing and had accused her of disloyalty to her sister.
'Are you going to tell Mary what's going on? No, of course not, because you can't-you absolutely cannot. Marco is our friend, and I'm willing to help him in any way I can, but that doesn't mean involving my family, much less letting you fool around in his investigation. You're my wife, Lisa, and I have no secrets from you, but that's it. Don't stick your nose in my work-I don't mess with yours. I can't believe you'd use your own sister this way-and for what? What the hell do you care about a fire in a cathedral?"
It was the first serious argument they'd had in years, and she had to admit John was right. She'd gotten carried away and acted frivolously, and now she was filled with guilt.
Mary had had no objections to the guest list Lisa sent her by e-mail. Nor had her niece, Gina, objected when she saw the name Marco Valoni and his wife, Paola. She knew they were good friends of her aunt and uncle. She'd met them two or three times; they were very nice, and both of them were interesting to talk to. She had, however, asked who this Dottoressa Galloni was that was coming with the Valonis. Her aunt explained that she was a scholar who worked in the Art Crimes Department and a close friend of Marco and Paola. That had been enough for Gina.
Waiters passed among the guests with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. "I feel kind of out of place," Marco whispered to Paola and Sofia when they arrived. The crowd was impressive, even considering the circles in which the Stuarts moved. The guests included two government ministers, a cardinal, several high-ranking diplomats, among them the U.S. ambassador to Italy, and a number of important businessmen, not to mention the half dozen professors that were friends of Lisa's and the handful of archaeologists Gina had invited.
"Yeah, me too," replied Paola, "but we're here, and there's no turning back now."
Sofia scanned the party for Umberto D'Alaqua. She saw him across the terrace, talking to a beautiful, sophisticated-looking blond woman who resembled Lisa slightly. They were laughing, clearly comfortable in each other's company.
"Hey, there! Welcome! Paola, you look wonderful. And you, I imagine, are Dottoressa Galloni. A pleasure to meet you." John knew his discomfort would not be lost on Marco. He'd been on edge about this ever since he'd found out about Lisa's little game and had subtly tried to encourage Marco to decline the invitation- gently, with not a false note, but he'd tried nevertheless. Marco, for his part, asked himself why.
Lisa came over, smiling. Like John, she seemed tense. Marco wondered if he was getting paranoid. But no, Lisa's smile was just a bit stiff, and John's eyes, usually so warm, seemed uneasy. Gina also came to greet them, and then her aunt began to take them around to introduce them to the other guests.
John took note of Sofia's effect on the men. Most were eyeing her surreptitiously, or not so surreptitiously, even the cardinal. Dressed in a white Armani tunic, her blond hair long and loose, with no jewelry but diamond studs in her ears and a Carrier tank watch, she was unquestionably the most beautiful woman there that night. In short order she was taking an enthusiastic part in the conversation among a group of ambassadors, a minister, businessmen, and bankers.
They were analyzing the war in Iraq, and the minister turned and asked her opinion.
"I'm sorry, but I've been against it from the start," Sofia said. "In my opinion, Saddam Hussein was not a threat to anyone except his own people."
Hers was the only dissenting opinion, so it added a definite spark to the conversation. She piled one argument on another against the war, gave a succinct lecture on the history of the region, and soon had her interlocutors viewing her with well-merited respect.
Meanwhile, Marco and Paola were conversing with two of Gina's archaeologist friends, who felt as out of place as they did.
Sofia kept her eye on the blond woman conversing so animatedly with D'Alaqua. When she saw John approach her friends, she seized the moment to excuse herself and join them.
"Thank you so much for inviting me, Signor Barry."
"We're delighted you could come with Marco and Paola…"
The blond woman turned with a smile and waved.
Barry returned the greeting. "My sister-in-law. Mary Stuart," he explained.
"She looks so much like Lisa," Marco said. "Would you introduce us?"
Sofia lowered her head. She knew that Marco was making his move. Just then, Lisa came over.
"Darling," Barry said, "Marco wants to meet Mary and James."
"Oh, of course!"
Lisa escorted them over to where her sister and her husband were conversing with D'Alaqua and three other couples. Sofia's eyes were fixed on D'Alaqua, but he hardly seemed to notice. Perhaps he didn't even remember her.
"Mary, I'd like you to meet two of our best friends, Marco and Paola Valoni, and Dottoressa Sofia Galloni, who works with Marco."
The blond woman gave them a big smile. 'A pleasure," she said, then courteously included them in the group and introduced them to the others. D'Alaqua politely nodded and smiled indifferently.
Mary turned to her sister. "Are they archaeologists too?"
"No, Marco is director of the Art Crimes Department, Paola teaches art history at the university, and Sofia, as I said, works with Marco."
'Art Crimes Department? What's that?"
Marco spoke up. "We're a special office devoted to investigating crimes involving precious objects and Italy's cultural heritage-art thefts, forgeries, smuggling…"
"Oh! How interesting!" Mary responded politely. "We were just talking about that painting auctioned recently in New York-a Christ by El Greco. I'm trying to get Umberto to admit that he's the person who bought it."