The Vatican Rip

Light dawned. I stared at her. 'And you…?'

'Why do you think I've worked the Vatican geese for two years?' Her blazing eyes softened into rapture and she gave me a blasphemous blessing. 'I dream of the rip, Lovejoy,' she purred, looking past me into some paradise of her own creation. 'I've schemed and waited. And now you've come, Lovejoy. A man with the same dream. We can do it. I know we can.'

'Me…' wishing I didn't have to say it “… and you?'

'Don't make me sound like a penance, cretino!' She began smoothing cream off with tissues. 'You need me. Together we succeed. Alone, you sleep in the Castel Sant'

Angelo garden.'

So she knew about that, too. She rose abruptly and flung a leg on to the chair, peeling a stretch stocking. Varicosities were clearly painted on the inside. I'd already seen her black buttonstrap shoes and their crafted supports, real works of art. She donned a shabby dressing-gown. 'Don't overestimate me, Lovejoy. I've no private army. Fine, I make a living, though the Mafia don't lose any sleep. But I'm good. You've seen me.

We're ideal.'

She went to shower while I lay back and looked at the ceiling. I now had a job which provided sufficient cover, and an ally whose only fault was that she happened to be the best con artist on the streets. And a place to stay, providing I accepted her as a partner. And a workshop where I could make the Chippendale replica, which I desperately needed for the rip.

As a lurk it wasn't so bad. Maybe it was as good as any I could hope for. And the rip was my one sure way of getting to Arcellano. I should have been quite content, but I don't like coincidences. And for the only two people in the world planning separate Vatican rips to finish up living in the same room was too much of a coincidence for me.

By a mile.

CHAPTER 15

The next three days I worked like a dog, had a terrible row with Fabio and a worse one with Anna, and nearly killed the bloke who was following me. At least, I think I nearly killed him. I may have done worse, but I'm not going back to find out.

I explained the barest essentials.

'Just a single table?' she had asked incredulously.

I'd told her yes, then lied like a trooper. 'I go for systems, not singles.'

'Explain, Lovejoy,' she demanded.

A gleam in Anna's eye told me she'd developed that basic mistrust so natural to all womankind. I tried to speak with a sneer. 'Tell me this.' I strode about the room belligerently, Marlborough on campaign. 'What is the perfect rip, eh? Ever thought?'

'Where you get clean away.' She was fascinated, but doubtful.

I was emphatic. 'No, love. The perfect rip's the undetected rip. And why?' I paused to poke a finger towards her. She was all gleaming from the shower and sat mesmerized by my act. 'Because you can do it again. And again. And —'

'— And again!' she breathed.

'Right! You have a system. See?'

'System, not singles!' She was radiant. 'Lovejoy,' she murmured, 'that's beautiful.'

We shook on it. I saw from her manner that she had taken a deep decision.

'Now we're partners, Lovejoy, she said, primly sitting opposite me, 'who's the man following you?'

'Eh?'

'He's outside now. To and from the Emporium. He watches from the pizzerìa rustica opposite Albanese's.'

'Oh, I'll look into it,' I said airily. 'I know of him. Spotted him within the hour.'

I hadn't and was badly shook up, but I didn't dare let Anna think her new partner was a complete imbecile. She gave me a look, said nothing.

That was our deal. Me to run the rip, Anna to suss plans and teach me all she knew about the Vatican, the tourist trade, the guides and couriers and hawkers which abounded in its vicinity.

At the Emporium Adriana and I did the tray dodge a couple of times. Rested and fed as I was—and blissfully back in my natural element at last—I was in top form. Not only that, but on the way there I'd spotted a genuine Jacobean hanging bread-hutch in the side window of a small antique shop called Gallinari's, did a promising deal for a song and raced the last few hundred yards to catch Fabio just reopening. Twenty minutes later I had it safe in Adriana's.

I crowed like a mad thing as I wiped the lovely thing down with a dry cloth. 'Look, folks! We're in the presence of a genuine Jacobean period refrigerator!' Untrue really, but it was the nearest they had to it. The whole thing is a cunning wooden bread-airing device, and positively mouse-proof. It's pierced everywhere, cornices and straights.

Lovely. 'And,' I sailed on, 'it's not a modern mock-up.' No nasty pale edges to show where the staining's worn off and exposed for the horrible trick it always is. They make them from old church pews. My babbling left them unaffected. There were tears in my eyes from trying to get them to understand the immensity of the find, but there's no telling some people.

'About money, Lovejoy,' Adriana said.

'Oh, no!' I shook my head vigorously. This kind of crappy talk gets me.

'No what?'

'Look. Signor Gallinari made a deal. It's his expertise against mine. Don't dare suggest giving him a higher price. That'd insult this antique.'

I don't go for this rubbish about sharing profit, or owning up before you buy.

Remember the antique has feelings too. That's what caveat emptor means.

A few times, as I prepared the lovely thing for sale, I caught Adriana's quizzical gaze on me. She never would meet my eye, glancing away whenever I looked up. And Fabio was sulking, earning himself a rebuke from Adriana for rudeness to customers. And Piero was in on it, pursing his lips and doing his silent-screen act. All we needed was a set of eyebrows and we'd have been music-hall naturals. Their attitudes were beyond me. As if I cared.

The row with Fabio erupted just before we closed. Adriana had this ritual which required each of us to come before her, report we'd locked up, and list our completed jobs. I went last.

'There's one point,' I said pointedly to her. 'If anybody damages that Jacobean bread-hutch like they did that early American candle screen—'

'Damaged?' she asked quickly.

I held the candle screen up to show the circular fruit-wood base was scored in several places. The scratches were new.

'—I'll break their hands.' I smiled at Fabio. 'Off. Okay, Fabio?'

His eyes were bright with venom. 'Thinking to take over here, Lovejoy?'

'Stop it!' Adriana pointed. 'Did you do that, Fabio?'

'Maybe Lovejoy was careless.'

'I see.' Adriana appraised him. 'You resent our new assistant.' That was a step up. I'd always been called a handy-man before.

He said sweetly, 'Of course I'm aware Lovejoy can do no wrong, Adriana—'

'Good night,' I put in, and left them to sort it out. Through it all Piero had said nothing, just watched. But I knew I'd made an enemy of Fabio, and that Piero always went about armed from the way he stood and positioned himself when stormclouds threatened. As I left I wondered if Piero was the follower Anna had spotted. There was only one way to find out.

* * *

That night on Adriana's instructions I was seated at the restaurant by twenty to nine.

The staff fawned over the Albaneses the minute they arrived. I was stuck on a corner table near the kitchen entrance but by now I was so hungry I was past caring. I hadn't spotted my tail on the way, which only proved how valuable Anna might actually turn out to be.

I only had half a bottle of wine, and ate carefully but well, keeping one vigilant eye on the exits and the other on the lovely Adriana. I'll remember her all my life, if I live that long. Her clothes were different again, I noticed, which was a real feat. She'd had less than an hour. She wore pearls—a short chain of baroques, which shows taste, restraint, and something called style because each one is deformed and relatively inexpensive.

And her dress was an improbable combination of bodiced looseknit and bishop sleeves.