Ava was silent. Paul could see that Simon’s haymaker had connected. She teetered on the brink of surrender, then rallied: “I fear your argument proves too much. Without ethical principles or boundaries, all is permitted. If nothing matters except results, you can rationalize every criminal transgression and justify every selfish indulgence.”
Ava continued, confident now. “For example, what social good was accomplished when you bought this ostentatious villa and rented a washed-up supermodel?”
Simon stiffened. Nick almost spat out his scotch.
“Enough!” Paul said, taking Ava’s hand. “I’m starving. Let’s table this discussion until after dinner, okay?” Glancing at Simon, he asked, “By the way, where are we eating?”
DeMaj swallowed his anger and smiled. “Do you know the place where the lemon trees bloom?”
The chauffeur brought Simon’s gleaming silver Maybach 62 S from the garage. Paul, Ava, Simon, and Mellania rode in back; Nick sat up front with the driver. As the others socialized, Ava gazed out through the tinted glass. She was impressed by the island’s beauty and tranquillity, but Simon’s argument reverberated in her mind. Though she hated to admit it, DeMaj had a point. Notwithstanding all her talents and abilities and despite her world-class education, she’d accomplished nothing that actually mattered, nothing that improved people’s lives. As the sun dissolved into the horizon, she wondered if she’d chosen the right path.
Ava’s thoughts were interrupted by the already-intoxicated Mellania braying that everyone must have another drink. The car’s tiny wet bar featured a variety of miniature bottles. Giggling, the Slovakian bent over the seat, popped a piccolo of champagne, and filled two foaming glasses. Leering, she offered Paul a flute, allowing her arm to graze his chest as she moved. When he accepted, Ava felt a flicker in her abdomen. Nodding to the model, Paul said, “Thanks, Mel, but I prefer something less bubbly,” and with a conspiratorial wink, he handed the drink to Ava. She felt dizzy.
Minutes later the car arrived at Da Paolino, a restaurant on the Marina Grande known for its Caprese cuisine. The owner met Simon at the door and led them to a table on the patio within a grove of delightful lemon trees. Ava smiled, noting that several menu items incorporated fresh lemon. Music played in the kitchen. Edith Piaf sang and an accordion bellowed. When the wine arrived, Simon raised his glass.
“Cento di questi giorni!”
They drank the toast and began to eat. Ava started with a salad of sliced mozzarella, vine-ripened tomatoes, and basil. Sautéed ravioli stuffed with fresh cacciotta (a soft-textured, mild-flavored cheese) was her main course. Between bites, Ava looked at Paul. If his freshly shorn head made him self-conscious, it certainly didn’t inhibit his appetite. He demolished a titan’s portion of spicy pirciati (pasta with anchovies, lemon, onion, garlic, capers, black olives, basil, tomato, and pepper), a spinach salad, and three glasses of Sancerre.
When Simon had finished off his rigatoni with sautéed pumpkin flowers, he leaned back, smiled, and turned to Ava. “How was your supper, Ms. Fischer?”
“Marvelous, Mr. DeMaj. Thank you. You’re a generous host.”
“My pleasure.”
“As much as I’ve enjoyed this sumptuous meal, though, I can’t impose further on your hospitality. How soon can we leave your home?”
He took her question in stride.
“What’s the rush? Officially, you’re still considered lost at sea. You never had legal permission to enter Italy, so it might be tricky to depart. Furthermore, I believe the Egyptian government has taken an interest in your whereabouts.”
Paul met his eyes. “We’re innocent of those charges and you know it.”
“Of course, of course. It’s just a technicality. My lawyers are working diligently to resolve the situation. In the meantime, may I suggest you try to enjoy a brief vacation on Capri?”
Ava began to argue but then stopped. “I suppose we can tolerate a few days here.”
DeMaj smiled. “You like the island?”
“I agree with Emperor Tiberius’s opinion. It’s spectacular.”
“Yes, Tiberius loved Capri. He spent the final ten years of his reign enjoying its serenity. Did you know he founded the first archaeological museum here?”
She nodded.
“Of course, Tiberius wasn’t the only emperor to appreciate Capri’s delights.”
“Didn’t Augustus vacation here?”
“Yes. And Caligula. Each built a villa on the island.”
Nick laughed. “I’ve heard some crazy things about Caligula.”
Ava adroitly changed the subject. “Did you know,” she asked everyone at the table, “that Capri wasn’t always an island?”
“How’s that?” Paul said. “The strait must be five kilometers wide. Did the Romans build a giant causeway or something?”
Ava smiled. “No. According to Strabo, Capri was part of mainland Italy. When the sea level rose, it became an island.”
“Well, I think Strabo is full of it,” Paul joked.
“Yeah,” Mellania giggled, beaming at Paul across the table. “Me too.”
Ava’s face colored. Her lips thinned into an expression of disgust. Under the table she clenched her napkin and thought about strangling the empty-headed tramp.
“Regardless,” said Simon, watching Ava closely, “it’s an island now, and for that I’m thankful.”
She turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m sure you prefer it this way. Keeps out the proletariat.”
He lifted his hands in a supplicant’s gesture. “If Mother Nature saw fit to provide a moat, who am I to object?”
“Of course, it’s no impediment for the right kind of visitors, meaning those with private yachts.”
“I don’t own a yacht, mademoiselle.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. You don’t need one. You own a helicopter. Or do you have two?”
“I own twenty.”
Ava gasped. “Twenty?”
“Simon collects helicopters,” Paul said, hoping to defuse the situation. “It’s one of his passions.”
Despite herself, Ava was impressed. “You collect helicopters?”
DeMaj angled his head to one side and shrugged as only a Frenchman can — an expression of modest pride with a hint of carelessness.
“Would you care to see my collection?”
After dessert they thanked the restaurant’s owner for a splendid meal. Simon’s driver was outside, flirting with a hostess. Spotting DeMaj, the chauffeur ended his conversation and hurried to start the car. Ava took Paul’s arm, casually ensuring that Mellania couldn’t sidle in between them. The car sped back to the villa. After clearing the security gate the driver veered away from the house and approached a large, windowless structure built into the hillside. Simon typed a code into a recessed keypad and the automatic door opened. They entered a cavernous hangar full of helicopters.
With obvious pride, Simon jumped from the car and led his guests toward a Bell 47 Sioux AH1, his first purchase. Powered by a six-cylinder turbocharged engine, the Sioux had flown in Cyprus with the United Nations. Adjacent was a Sud-Ouest SO.1221 Djinn, built at Rochefort for the French army. Simon found the retired ’59 Djinn in a storage facility at Versailles-Satory and restored it to glory. Nearby were two German helicopters: a Bölkow Bo.102, the first helicopter built in the Federal Republic after World War II, and an MBB Bo.105M, designed by Messerchmitt-Bölkow-Blohm for police and air ambulance.