“Natalie. You said they’d be following up on me as a routine lead, which would be one of many, I’d think. So the likelihood of someone being there, watching the flat with twenty-four hour surveillance, is slim. In fact, the longer I wait, the higher the probability they’ll get interested in it,” he insisted.
“If you’re hell bent on it I can’t stop you, but remember I told you I don’t like it. From my perspective it’s an unnecessary risk. Can’t you have someone else go over and pack a bag for you, and then they meet Frederick someplace crowded? They won’t be looking for an older man. That’s just one of many ways to solve the problem,” Natalie proposed.
“I’ll make the decision later,” Steven said, echoing her earlier comment on the Scroll.
Natalie decided not to press the point. She carefully gathered up the pages and returned them to the canister. Glancing around the table to ensure she wasn’t overlooking anything, she nodded to Steven.
“All right. We’re ready. Tell Frederick where the bank is, and with any luck, we should make it before five,” she said.
Traffic was the usual late-afternoon snarl, with the angry insect-like buzzing of motor-scooter engines flooding the streets. Honking on some of the larger roads was a near constant as two-wheeled scooter-nauts with a death wish darted from alleys and wove their way through the procession of cars. Sirens screamed in the distance, announcing that one of the daredevils had mistimed a move and would be heading to the hospital or the morgue.
They arrived at the bank with fifteen minutes to spare. Steven escorted Natalie into the modern lobby of the restored building and through the computerized security system for the safety deposit boxes. Once they were in the vault, he fished around in his pants for a set of keys and methodically opened one of the larger compartments, taking care as he extracted a three-foot long, foot high metal box and set it on the table in one of the adjoining private rooms.
After they were both seated, Steven opened the lid. Natalie gave an involuntary shiver from the air-conditioning; the breeze outside was fresh, as early summer in Italy could be, but the room was borderline cold. He removed a plastic document container and retrieved his passport and a wad of euros — fifty thousand of which he kept in cash out of force of habit. There had been a time in his life when he carried that much around with him on a routine basis, but that had been over half a decade before, and the two bundles of bills felt strangely heavy to him now. He weighed them both in his hands, then replaced one bundle, putting the other into the zip-up pocket of his lightweight windbreaker along with the passport. Natalie watched him silently.
“The vault is temperature controlled at sixty-seven degrees year round, and the air-conditioning keeps most of the humidity out of the air, so for storing parchments it’s a good situation. Ideally, I would build a storage unit of my own and have more precise control, with a backup generator in case of loss of power, but for as small a collection as I have, that would be silly,” he said.
“How many parchments do you keep here?” Natalie asked.
“Forty-five, at last count. I have four of these drawers,” Steven explained.
They exchanged glances. Steven looked at her quizzically — it was time to make the decision about leaving the Scroll in the bank. A quiet struggle went on behind her eyes as she weighed the risks of allowing the two million dollar document out of her sight, in the safety deposit box of a man she’d just met. Eventually, she nodded at Steven.
“I suppose it would be best if we left it here. But I think it would be appropriate to put me on the security list so I can access the box if something, well, goes wrong or happens to you…” Natalie reasoned.
“Fair enough. We can sit down with the manager on the way out. We should get going.” Steven smiled. “Looks like we’re going to have to trust each other a little.”
“That’s not so easy for me to do.”
Steven decided not to go there. Whatever was playing behind those violet eyes, it could do so without his intrusion. He reached across and placed the Scroll container delicately in the drawer before closing and locking the top, then carried it over to the bank of compartments and replaced it with a slam of the door.
They stopped at the manager’s desk, but he’d gone home early, so they were faced with another hurdle. Natalie sighed and, shaking her head, strolled to the front entrance. What was done was done.
“We can come back tomorrow and put you on the list, Natalie,” Steven offered, following her to the exit.
“Sure. I’m not going to worry about it now. Let’s get going,”
They walked down the block to where Frederick had the car waiting. Natalie turned to him.
“I want to try to talk you out of going to your apartment, Steven. It’s a really bad idea. We can get you whatever you need at any of a hundred stores in town. There’s just no reason to take the risk I can see,” Natalie said.
“Well, I can think of a big one, besides liking my own stuff. The software program for decrypting parchments I came up with is on my PC at home, and if we want to get to the bottom of all this, it will be an essential.”
“Shit. Okay, now I get it. Do you have it anywhere else? At your office?” Natalie asked.
“No, because when I’m at work I’m generally working. Not trying to decrypt medieval manuscripts,” Steven explained.
“Then I see why it’s worth the risk. Guess we don’t have much choice,” Natalie admitted.
“Not really. Trust me when I say I don’t want to take a bullet in the back to get a software program. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
They drove the seven minutes from the bank to his flat, which was one of five in the old three story building. On Natalie’s instruction, Frederick parked a block away. Steven got out of the car, stopping Natalie as she opened her door.
“It’s probably a bad idea for us to be seen together, Natalie. If anyone is watching my place, your presence there would make my involvement in whatever this is undeniable. Let me go in, grab some stuff, and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
Natalie sank back into the seat. “Fine. I’ll stay here.”
Steven began the walk to his flat, which was around the corner and a hundred yards up the block. He ambled along unhurriedly, watchful of any surveillance, but didn’t spot anything. Maybe Natalie was being sensationalistic. Then again, there was the matter of the two men who’d been at his office just a few short hours before.
He approached his building’s entry and didn’t note anything amiss. Steven slid his key into the creaky old lock, which fought his right to enter with customary Italian ennui. Once inside, he moved to the stairs that led to the second floor.
His cell phone jangled, startling him. He peered at the screen as he climbed the stairs. It was Gwen.
“Hello,” Steven said.
“We got a fix on the phone number those two men left for you, mighty bwana,” Gwen chirped glibly. “It’s to the southern precinct of the police. Looks like they were telling the truth.”
He digested the information. “They were cops after all? What did they say they wanted?”
“Just that they needed to speak with you as soon as possible,” Gwen reminded him.
“E-mail me the number and I’ll give them a buzz. And thanks, Gwen,” Steven said.
“Are you still going to be ‘on holiday’ for a week?” she asked cheerfully.
Steven considered the question. The men were real detectives, so Natalie’s entire story was beginning to look pretty shaky.
“That remains to be seen. For now, consider me gone, and I’ll call you if anything changes,” he offered.
“Okay. Be careful,” Gwen said.
“Will do. I remember your advice — don’t strain anything,” Steven said.