The Vatican Rip

Another difficulty was assembly. The reproduction rent table I was making for Adriana to put on display had to be ready fairly soon or they'd be wondering what the hell I was doing down here, especially after they'd all commented, each in his pleasant little way, on my working speed. So I did a zillion test assemblies of every drawer and every joint, and never put it all together. The outer surfaces of her table I copied precisely using light plywood but giving them the same kinds of finish. These were the pieces I'd told Piero were my patterns for copying.

Like hell they were.

Somehow I made room for the two cafeteria tables, scattering bits of wood about on them to show how useful they were being. The third one I left out in the yard, allegedly ready to be returned.

A further stroke of luck came about thirty minutes before we closed for the night.

Signor Gallinari phoned us to say he was ready for swapping—we were doing a trade of chairs to make up complete period dining sets. Piero and Fabio went off in the van grumbling and sulky. I immediately put the metal saw across the tubular steel tips of one of the cafeteria table's legs. I put the four tips in my pocket, wrapped in a hankie so as not to clink, and stepped off to look. Nobody could tell. I was whistling happily and splitting some thin dowelling when Adriana came in.

'Here, Lovejoy.' She held out an envelope.

'Thank you, signora.' It was thicker than usual.

'Open it, please.'

There was money inside, besides the invitation card. I drew breath. I needed money badly, but not that bad.

'No, thank you, signora.' I kept the card and held out the notes.

'Why not?'

'We've agreed what the rules are, signora.'

She avoided my eyes. 'It gives you the choice, Lovejoy. Where to dine, what to do in the evenings.'

I tried to make light of the whole thing. 'With all this gelt I might streak off.'

'No, Lovejoy.' She sounded listless. 'Not you. You do what you want. You're here for your own reasons.'

So she'd realized too. 'But signora—'

'No more, Lovejoy. Please.' All the day's successes were forgotten. 'No more hypocrisy.

I don't ask why you stay. From now on you won't be forced into anything. I'll see you are paid money each day.'

Her eyes were wet. I was lost. 'What about Fabio? He'll realize…'

'I'll find some way. Take it out of the petty cash. He won't know.'

That seemed odd, almost as if she was apprehensive about Fabio. She was the boss, after all, and Fabio was only a hireling, like me.

'Am I to be at the restaurant?'

'Only if you wish.'

I hesitated while Adriana dabbed at her eyes. Women get me mad because you never know where you are. 'Did Signor Albanese say anything? He had me taken to his office.'

She looked merely resigned as I told her about it, word for word. 'I made up some cock-and-bull story about having fallen for another bird and wanting to stay here to work it out.'

'What woman?' she asked immediately.

I had a hard time convincing her there was no such woman, that she was a figment invented on the spur of the moment. 'The signor thought it hilarious.'

'I see,' she said, finally convinced. It was more than I did.

'The only thing is, he seemed to know that, erm, you and I, erm, at your villa…'

The others came back at that moment, so we got no further.

When we locked up later Piero was unusually affable while Adriana was still there, and walked with me as far as the corner. I wondered if this was it. There were plenty of people about, but he was such a bloody size.

'Lovejoy.' He'd made certain the purple Rolls had floated off. 'Time for you to go away, no?' He tried a wintry smile. It wasn't a patch on Arcellano's, but he was quite patient, and that disturbed me because, calm fighters always do. They've seen it all before.

'Why now, especially?'

'Before, I didn't mind you too much. You were… incidental.' He meant insignificant, the pillock. 'But now, Adriana begins to take you seriously. You're a good antiques man, the best I've seen.' He shrugged. 'A divvie's special. Okay—so you're good for her business.

But I won't be displaced by a bum that's planning some crazy rip, and using her for camouflage.'

I gave a hollow laugh. 'Rip? You're off your head. It's my hobby.'

'You joke.' He nodded gravely, eyeing me. 'Though everything you do is serious, Lovejoy. Deadly serious. You're a driven man. So I'll make a deaclass="underline" go tomorrow.'

'Where to?'

'Anywhere, Lovejoy. Name the place and you'll receive money, a passport and ticket.'

'And what's my part of the deal?'

'I save you from gaol, Lovejoy.' He picked his teeth, wrinkling his eyes against the fading sun. 'I've got your fingerprints, your photograph. Fabio will provide evidence of pilfering. The Rome police are serious about antiques, Lovejoy. Whatever the rip they'll have you. You've got till tomorrow. Ciao.'

I watched him go, working it out. Now I had to leave, to stay, to do the rip, not to do the rip, chat up Adriana, leave her alone…

And that evening we dined together in the Gold Season, just the three of us: me and Adriana, and her husband. I felt between the devil and the deep blue sea because I was now sure I was being followed. The fat bloke I'd nearly knocked down in the Piazza Argentina was shown to a corner table five minutes after we arrived. A different digit, but definitely Arcellano's finger.

That wasn't all. After a couple of hours' nosh and one-sided chat—Signor Albanese was in fine form, with Adriana unresponsive and me demented—we rose and departed, and this time a Jaguar waited for Adriana. Beside it was the purple Rolls, with a familiar figure standing peevishly by, handbag on the swing.

Adriana resolved all doubts by passing me her keys quite openly. 'Drive, please, Lovejoy.'

'Erm-'

Signor Albanese gave me effusive thanks for my company and said he would not rest until we dined so pleasantly once again.

'Come on Emilio!' Fabio shouted petulantly. 'I've waited hours!'

'I'm hurrying!' Albanese called.

I stood while Adriana slid into the Jaguar. Emilio Albanese waved to us once and joined Fabio at the Rolls. I watched it glide away before getting in beside Adriana. I drew breath to say something and then thought better of it. Adriana was looking away.

Evidently that was the other surprise Anna had promised me, the night I learned about Piero and Adriana. Piero and Adriana because of Signor Albanese and Fabio? And now Lovejoy and Adriana because of…? I gave it up.

'To the villa, darling,' Adriana said. She sounded a hundred years old.

CHAPTER 21

It had been an uptight morning, with Fabio and Piero giving smouldering glances at the clock to warn me I should be gone by nightfall. I trotted home to Anna's eating pizza on the hoof.

I could tell Carlo was already there from the blaring transistor echoing pop music down the alley. Sure enough he was dancing sinuously before the mirror, admiring himself while Anna was removing her make-up. Ominously, he looked sloshed. Three empty wine bottles projected from the waste basket.

'Get your knickers on, troops,' I said from the door. 'And turn that bloody thing off.'

'Miserable man.' Carlo glared sullenly at me while Anna flicked the tranny, and slumped on his camp bed, obviously ready for a hard afternoon's kip.

I said, 'It starts, lad,' and toed him beneath the canvas. 'Up.'

'What does?' Carlo propped up on an elbow.

I leaned down, smiling. 'The rip, comrade. Now.'

'This instant?' from Anna, suddenly pale, her lovely face rimmed by those theatrical bulbs.

'Finish your make-up, Granny,' I said heartlessly. 'Carlo's going to show me the ambulance van.'

'It's ready,' he was saying, insolently starting to lie down again, when I tipped him out and heeled his knife hand. The knife fell clear. 'He thinks I'm a kid.' he complained, staggering up.