The Vatican Rip

'Is that true, Lovejoy?' she sniffed. With her aged make-up running uncontrollably she looked horrible.

'Honest,' I lied. 'Cross my heart and hope to—er, honest.'

'Poor Carlo.'

Well, quite. I argued persuasively, 'You know what he's like, Anna. By tomorrow he'll believe he pulled off the whole rip single-handed.'

'That's true.' She dabbed her face, making things twice as bad. 'Only… Lovejoy. If you didn't dose Carlo with that stuff, what was it for?'

'Last-minute varnish,' I lied. There was no answer to that. 'It's my secret,' I said as coldly as possible, to freeze her off. 'We're allies, Anna, but if I let on to you exactly how…'

The dear bird jumped to a woman's favourite conclusion in the pause and breathed,

'You are afraid that would be the end of our partnership?'

'Not really afraid,' I said nobly. In fact my greatest craving was to get shut of this maddening old crone and her goonish brother.

'I see,' she said, looking at me in a new way.

I cleared my throat after a year's uncomfortable silence. 'I'd, er, better have a lie down,' I said eventually. 'I've more night work ahead.'

She rose then and crossed to the dressing-table. 'Shower while I make up your bed.'

When I came tottering blearily back her alcove curtains were pulled aside. My couch wasn't made up at all. Uncaring, I reeled towards it, clutching my towel round my middle.

'Here, Lovejoy.' I felt her guiding touch on my arm and collapsed on her bed. She looked down at me, her make-up gone and only her lovely young face hovering. 'You'll sleep better here than on that old couch. Are you very tired?'

'Done in.' My vision blacked. 'What are you doing?' My towel had gone and a smooth lissom body was moving alongside my exhausted hairy neck.

'You need keeping warm, Lovejoy.'

Actually I didn't, but when your hostess offers you tea it's rude to refuse. And as it turned out I wasn't as tired as all that.

* * *

'That you, Arcellano?'

'Where the hell have you been, Lovejoy?'

It was my old friend all right. 'Pulling the rip.'

That shut him up, for about ten seconds. 'You what?'

'You heard.'

Another pause, then much quieter: 'Lovejoy. Are you serious or drunk?'

'Serious.'

'But it's impossible.'

'Was.' We both listened to heavy breathing.

'So you'll deliver—' But he was uncertain.

I cut in. 'No, Arcellano. No nice long trips to Bonn. I deliver here, in Rome.'

'You're off your head.'

'In the Colosseum. Exactly at sunrise. No sooner, no later.'

'Lovejoy.' His sibilant voice made my skin crawl. 'Lovejoy. If you're planning to work a fixer, I'll have you crisped. You do understand?'

'Perfectly,' I told him. 'And if I find you skulking in ambush when I arrive at the Colosseum, Arcellano, I'll take to the hills.' I put a whine of anxiety into my voice. 'I want no trouble.'

'Very well, Lovejoy,' that voice purred. 'I'll be there.'

'Alone, Arcellano. Agreed?'

'Agreed.'

I walked the half mile to Patrizio's garage. I had remembered to bring the keys to Adriana's workshop so Valerio and I could nick the winch and bring it over in his van. I walked quickly. It was already dark, and I still had work to do.

CHAPTER 27

As the first sun ray touched the high rim a cool breeze wafted through the Colosseum's gaunt stone honeycomb. Fawns and dark browns started stuffing the blackness out of sight among the pits and arches. A pale midnight blue appeared above the jagged edge of the great interior. All around me the huge crescents were thrown into relief.

I sat there like a nerk, daintily at breakfast on top of one of the great masonry teeth which protruded from the floor of the vast arena. Even the most suspicious-minded crook could see I was alone, unaided and completely vulnerable.

I had been there an hour, perched on my stone block. Anna's white tablecloth fluttered indolently in the stirring air. My elbows on the coffee table and the coffee almost gone.

What dregs were left in the cup were now stone cold. I was only saving them for effect.

Getting the table up had almost proved too much for me and Valerio. Patrizio and Anna had sussed out the entire Colosseum at four a.m., reporting all clear in whispers. Apart from one sleeping old drunk and the inevitable prowling cats, the place was empty. I made Patrizio and Anna promise to leave once I was in position. Anna was all for staying and taking on the universe with me. I refused to explain, saying it was all part of the rip. I felt utterly alone.

The sky lightened. Rectangles of pastel blue began to appear, stencilled out of the enormous brown stone rim above me. I shivered, half wanting the sun to reach down into the enormous bowl and warm me but too frightened to wish really hard. When it rose, Arcellano would come. Some murderers come alone. Others come with a band of assassins. I knew which sort Arcellano was.

A distant bus revved up and chugged out into the streets. First sound of the day. A few moments later a car came close, changed gear, droned away to silence. Near by a cat stretched, scaring me to death by suddenly being there. I calmed myself as best I could by rehearsing my movements. Arcellano would send his goons to go over the Colosseum inch by inch. I'm not that dim. With a little luck—and the speed which my terror would lend me—I'd be off out of the whole frigging mess with the speed of light.

I looked down and along the sandy ground across to my left. There, half the arena's width away, was the spot where Marcello's broken body had lain. My eyes lifted, as casually as if I were idly waiting, to where my pulley and beam overhung the stonemason's area. The massive stone block which hung suspended there did not even stir in the cool shifting air. I swallowed. It represented safety, but the bloody thing looked miles away. I'd have to run that far, dodging among the vast blocks.

I was becoming worried. Time was getting on. I let my gaze move inch by inch round the scagged interior. No sign. No movement. Only one of the cats coughing gently in the gloom directly ahead. The place was dappling swiftly. And the sky blueing, and gold touching the stonework. Soon, visitors would be waking to start the day and there was no way I could cajole Arcellano into a rerun of this meeting…

That cat coughed again. And I remembered the sound. Too late.

Against the weakening shadows a pale shape was emerging. About as tall as a man, a big man, with a fawn overcoat draped elegantly over his shoulders. And he was laughing. The laugh was short and dry, unvoiced barks like a coughing cat. I glanced involuntarily towards the long sandy run towards my recess. The pale shape saw my glance and began to drift that way. I thought, Oh Gawd.

I took a sip of coffee dregs to wet my throat and called, 'Is that you, Arcellano?' The cup rattled in it saucer.

'Charming tableau, Lovejoy.'

'Coffee, or have you had breakfast?' It was the best I could do. Everything I possessed had got the wobbles.

'You're allowed one cigarette, Lovejoy. Before execution.'

'Don't be daft, Arcellano. You owe me. I pulled the rip.'

'Wrong, Lovejoy. My men checked. The Chippendale's still there.'

I lifted the edge of the tablecloth to show the pedestal and the rent table's unmistakable edge. 'It's here, friend. Your antique from the Vatican. The one now in the Museum gallery is a forgery. I made it.'

He thought about that before speaking. 'Then why no alarms yesterday?'

'Because I made a good forgery. Go and check. I'll wait here.'

That cat cough laugh really sounded then, maybe a whole minute. He wiped his eyes, but all the time he was drifting to my left along the terracing. I had to look upwards at a slight angle to see him.

'You bastard, Lovejoy,' he called down. 'How?'

I explained the outline. All the time he was drifting, drifting in the direction I had glanced earlier. The swine suspected that was where I'd try to make my escape. He paused, leaning on the iron tourist rail. I could see him clearly now. With every second the day was rushing into brightness.