No one else had disembarked.
The cafe was small, elegant, with round white tables and stools instead of chairs. The walls were smooth and white with lots of mirrors. Victor liked that. For once he could sit anywhere he chose and with mere flicks of his eyes see the entrance, counter, restroom doors, even the long, perfectly toned legs of the blonde sitting to his right. Though the distraction the latter caused was certainly more of a hindrance than a benefit.
The scent of freshly ground coffee perfumed the air. The establishment was spacious but full, vibrant and noisy. Victor sat with a newspaper spread out before him and a tall glass of orange juice sitting next to it. Condensation beads hung from the glass. The hands on the clock above the counter said that it was nine p.m. He would give it another ten minutes, enough time to explain some bad traffic. If he hadn’t shown by that time then it would be too bad.
He came through the door as Victor was finishing off the last of the orange juice. He looked the same as he always had — slim, tanned, blond, flawlessly groomed, perpetually young, unshakably confident, impossibly good looking.
He smiled at Victor as he approached and said, ‘Vernon, my favourite shark, come all the way to Bologna to see me. This whole city is honoured by your presence.’
‘A shark?’
The blond man sat down opposite. ‘It seems to me the metaphor fits quite aptly. I was thinking about it on the way here.’ He leaned closer and whispered, ‘You swim undetected through the ocean, strike without warning and then disappear back into the depths, unseen but always feared.’
‘Nice imagery,’ Victor said, without inflection.
‘I know, right?’
‘You’re late, Alberto.’
Alberto Giordano shrugged, didn’t say anything, the action itself the explanation for his tardiness.
‘I almost left,’ Victor continued.
‘And not see me? Preposterous. People always wait for me.’ Giordano’s smile suddenly disappeared as he noticed Victor’s right hand was under the table. ‘What’s that about, Vernon?’
‘What do you think?’
Giordano made a face. ‘Such bad manners. I thought we were past all that nonsense. If I’m so threatening, why did you even want to meet?’
‘I’m lonely.’
He gestured to Victor’s unseen hand. ‘When you treat people like that, I can’t say I’m too surprised.’
‘Says the man who sent me halfway around the city today.’
Giordano grinned. ‘A little adventure never hurt anyone. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it. Besides, you always told me I needed to be more careful. A multi-faceted defence, and all that silly stuff. This is me being more careful. If people want to see the great Giordano himself they can dance to his tune so he can first see their true rhythm. And it works, too. Can’t have this handsome face marked by some uncouth ruffian now, can we? And don’t try to act offended — you put a friend of mine on a train to Rome. He got caught without a ticket. Do you know how much the fines are in this country? I swear the fascists are still in power.’
‘I don’t like being followed.’
A waitress approached, her elegant uniform stretched tight over her curves. Her eyes lit up when she saw Giordano and she gave him a wide smile. If she noticed Victor, she didn’t show it. Giordano ordered an espresso for himself and another orange juice for Victor.
‘I assume, despite the obvious pleasure of my company, you’ll be requiring the usual product,’ Giordano said.
‘Yes.’
‘What nationality?’
‘I’m thinking Italian this time.’
Giordano smiled. ‘Vernon, please, I’m not sure you’re beautiful enough to be one of us.’
‘I’m beautiful on the inside.’
Giordano laughed and they made small talk until the waitress reappeared and placed their drinks down. She spent a few minutes flirting with Giordano, leaning over the table so the fact the top buttons of her blouse were undone was obvious. The temperature must have spiked in the interval since she took their order, Victor thought. He sipped his orange juice and tried not to get in the way. Eventually, she took Giordano’s number and went back to her work.
‘It can be a curse, being me,’ Giordano said wistfully after she’d gone. ‘When you look like this, every woman wants to talk with you. I can’t not, otherwise they’ll think I’m rude. And before you say anything presumptuous, I even talk with the hideous ones. I just don’t call them.’
Victor didn’t respond. He said, ‘The identity has to be genuine. And completely clean.’
‘For you, Mr Shark, nothing less. You have a photo, I take it?’
Victor took a passport-sized photograph from a pocket and handed it to Giordano. ‘There’s something else I could use your help with.’
‘I can try and teach you how to talk to women if you like,’ Giordano said with a wide grin. ‘But I can’t promise they’ll want to talk to you.’
‘I do get by, Alberto.’
‘Don’t think I don’t know what that means, my friend. My sister, though no beauty, is a pleasant enough woman. I think you’d get on. She’s quiet, like you.’
‘You’d let your sister see someone like me?’
‘What a person does for a living does not define him. We all need money, do we not? How we elect to acquire it is not a reflection of our hearts but our society. Am I a forger or am I Alberto Raphael Giordano, friend, lover, artist, son? Besides, you are a good man, Vernon, even if you don’t want to believe it.’
‘I appreciate the offer, but a date is not exactly what I had in mind.’
Victor withdrew his hand from under the table and placed one of the wireless cameras he’d procured in Minsk on to the tabletop. Giordano stared at the empty hand for a moment, smiled, and shook his head.
‘Now why would you be so mean as to make me believe you were holding a gun? I’m hurt.’
‘I’m sure the waitress will help you feel better.’
Giordano smiled again and picked up the camera. ‘Nice,’ he said, examining it carefully. ‘Better than nice.’
‘What can you tell me about it?’
‘It’s US made. Wireless range of up to fifty metres in an urban environment, up to a hundred outside. Both full colour and infrared, high-resolution images. Lasts a week on a nine-volt battery. This is brand new tech. Government use only. Vernon, I had no idea your tastes were so refined.’
‘How would you go about getting one of these?’
‘With enormous difficulty, and more money than I would spend to win the heart of Venus herself.’
‘But it would be possible if you weren’t an American government agency?’
‘Anything is possible.’
‘Could you get hold of a dozen of these if you needed to?’
Giordano held up his hands. ‘I appreciate the vote of confidence, Vernon, but I wouldn’t even try. I’m sure I could get one, maybe even three, but I have no wish to have CIA beasts kicking down my door to ask me why I have restricted materials.’
Victor nodded, and tried to keep his thoughts from his face. He asked, ‘Could you trace the camera’s serial number to find out who bought it?’
‘For you I will happily try.’
‘See what you can do,’ Victor said. ‘But be discreet. Don’t take even the slightest risk for this. Please. Whatever the outcome, you can keep the camera.’
Giordano glanced in the waitress’s direction. ‘I might test it out later.’
Victor shook his head. ‘How long until I can collect the passport?’
‘A few days,’ Giordano said.
‘Call me the second it’s ready.’
‘I detect an urgency that is most unlike you.’
Victor didn’t respond.
‘In some trouble, Vernon?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Then why not leave that trouble far behind you and retire while you’re still young and relatively good looking? Live, don’t just exist.’
Victor took a sip of orange juice and said, ‘When I was first starting out I used to think about what I’d do when I’d put away enough money to retire. I worked out a figure and promised myself I wouldn’t do this for a day longer than I needed.’