‘Unlike the children from his first family, in Spain.’
Kovlinski raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘He married, in Spain?’
‘And deserted the family.’
There was a short silence. Kovlinski’s eyes had hardened: he stood inspecting his hands, his fingers slightly curled. There was a new tension in his bearing. He turned to the government minister. Slowly, he said, ‘Did you know you had half-siblings, Mr Stacey? Did you know your father was not only a liar and a thief but had also walked away from a marriage in Spain?’
‘I know no such thing!’ Stacey expostulated. ‘What the hell is going on here? I came here to find out what’s happened to Adriana, why she seems to have disappeared without a word to me, find out what the hell is going on and I find myself subjected to this farrago, this nonsense about Russia and Spain and
intelligence
operations half a century ago and God knows what! I’m not used to being treated this way, Kovlinski!’
‘I am sure you are not.’ The Russian oligarch straightened, his hands stiffly at his sides. ‘But perhaps you have been too long protected from reality. Your father, John Stacey, alias James Stoneleigh … and it seems, Zamora … was a man of few
scruples
. I wanted to find out whether you were a man I could allow to marry my daughter. I found out that you are, as I suspected, completely unworthy of joining my family. A man of such
background
—’
‘My father was a respected government official,’ Stacey hissed. ‘All this rubbish you’ve churned out, I deny any of it is true! And even if it were, what does it have to do with me? I’ve made my own way in the world. Whatever you believe my father did or did not do, what does it have to do with me? Why should it affect my relationship with Adriana?’
‘Because I believe in
blood
, Stacey!’ the old man snarled. ‘It’s not about Biblical views regarding the sins of the father, it’s because I believe in genetics, I believe that if a man is born of a father who has lied, and cheated and murdered to achieve his own selfish ends, the son is likely to have received the like
qualities
from his father. I believe it can be in the man’s blood! No,
Adriana is lost to you, my friend, and she has been so informed. She too believes in bloodline; when she was told of what I learned, she readily acceded to my wishes. And moreover, it’s not just about Adriana. I have already spoken to senior members in your government. I have informed them that if you are to remain involved in the contracts that are to be concluded on my part regarding developments here in the North-east, those contracts will not be fulfilled! You are out of the picture, Mr Stacey. I want no more to do with you. Adriana is lost to you. Furthermore, you will no longer be involved in developments up here, and I am assured that your career will now be subjected to close scrutiny.’
‘This is crazy! This is
medieval
! You can’t suggest that I’m to be pulled off this business because of the ridiculous rantings of an old man who can’t face losing his daughter in marriage!’
Kovlinski smiled thinly, unmoved by Stacey’s fury. ‘Empires have been built, and collapsed on less. I fear you must face the reality, Stacey. Your political career is stalling; your influence in the commercial world is finished. For you, Minister, it’s all over.’
‘Not quite,’ said Arnold in a quiet tone.
Both men turned their heads to stare at him. Kovlinski’s face was pale, his eyes hard, his mouth stretched in a thin, determined line. Alan Stacey’s handsome features were flushed with impotent rage and Arnold knew the man was close to losing control in the face of what he clearly saw as injustices heaped upon him by the man he had expected to become his father-in-law.
‘There’s also the matter of Peter Steiner,’ Arnold said.
‘Who?’ Stacey demanded harshly, after a short, stunned silence.
‘The former museum official who was recently murdered.’
Stacey glanced at Kovlinski then turned back to Arnold. ‘Murder? This is preposterous! What the hell are you talking about now?’ he blustered.
Kovlinski raised a bony, warning hand. ‘One moment.’ His eyes were fixed on Arnold, his gaze intense. ‘This man Steiner, you say he was murdered? I know nothing of this. I know of no connection….’
Arnold took a deep breath. ‘In the course of my work with ISAC, the committee chaired by Carmela Cacciatore, I was present at the interview with Peter Steiner, recently released from a prison sentence for false accounting and fraud. He wanted revenge and pointed us in the direction of men involved in the
cordata
, the connection which deals in looted items, ancient artefacts robbed from Etruscan tombs, and ties together the people in museums, government, auction houses in a rope of considerable complexity and great influence throughout Europe, and extending into Asia, the Middle East and the United States.’
‘And…?’ Kovlinski prompted.
‘He was killed before we could do a deal with him. But he did give us some information, some leads … One of them was a photograph of a statuette of Artemis. It put us on the trail that began in Moscow in 1945. It was this photograph that finally led us to Stoneleigh’s son Antonio Zamora, who, it now seems, was half-brother to Stacey here.’
‘This Zamora—’
‘Killed, in what seems to have been an accident, but perhaps was not.’
‘Are you suggesting that the statuette upstairs, given to me by Mr Stacey, was somehow connected with the death of this Steiner person?’ Kovlinski asked quietly. Stacey was leaning forward, his mouth half-open, tense.
‘I think that Stoneleigh, or John Stacey, whatever was his name, stole the Artemis statuette from Major Kopas when he fled to Spain. He made a copy of it, maybe to muddy trails, or for whatever twisted reason and gave it to his Spanish wife. When he was recalled to England he took the original with him, and it has remained in his family.’ Arnold held Stacey’s anguished
gaze. ‘I think you’re right, Mr Kovlinski: Mr Stacey was probably aware of this, and was hoping that the Artemis statuette would now comfortably disappear in your collection, as well as being a means of relaxing your opposition to this marriage. And the decision was forced on him also by the fact that Steiner was opening a can of worms that could lead to the statuette. So Steiner had to be removed before he did any damage. I think Stacey recruited a former English military man who had become a mercenary, a hit man. But the man he chose left too clear a trail behind him, so he also had to be got rid of. And in all this tangle, the owner of the statuette came to realize the artefact was best buried in a private collection, out of his hands.’
‘You’re crazy! This is a complete fabrication!’ Stacey almost shouted. ‘I don’t have to listen to this!’
‘I find it fascinating,’ Kovlinski murmured, his eyes on Arnold. ‘It more than confirms my suspicions.’
‘But I tell you it’s all rubbish!’ Stacey floundered, almost
helplessly
. ‘Suppositions, that aren’t based on facts! I don’t know what your game is, Landon, but you won’t get away with this. Publish any of these lies and I’ll sue you through the courts, I’ll strip bare …’ He paused, almost sputtering in his rage. ‘You haven’t got an iota of proof, no evidence to connect me with these killings you’re talking about.’
The hard knot in Arnold’s stomach had been dissipated. He stared at the government minister. Stacey was right in one respect. Apart from the existence of the Artemis statuette, in the possession of the Stacey family for decades, there was no actual proof of a linkage between Alan Stacey and the deaths of Steiner and the man who had killed him.
Some might emerge in due course, as enquiries continued, but right at this moment Arnold knew that Stacey was correct: there was no proof of the man’s involvement. And oddly, he felt there was a ring of truth in Stacey’s anguished tones….
Perhaps they would never discover who had issued the
instructions for the murder of Peter Steiner, and the killing of the assassin Sam Byrne; perhaps it would have to be enough to have achieved what he and Carmela had been seeking to do: to recover the fabled bronze statuette of Artemis, the Huntress, and Goddess of Death.
T
HE
I
TALIAN
SUN
was hot on the pavement outside the café, but Carmela was shaded by the tattered awning that protected the tables, mostly empty at mid-morning, where she waited to meet the man she had phoned the previous evening to arrange a discussion. She had been early: he was precisely on time. That was like him, she thought as she watched his martial figure march across the street towards her, his bearing military, elegantly suited, his white hair neatly waved, his head held proudly, confidently.
He stood before her, smiling, his teeth strong and white, his tanned features almost unlined. He had always been careful of his appearance.
‘Cousin!
Buon giorno
.’ he intoned, injecting pleasure into his voice. ‘Until you called, I had not realized you were in town. And you look so charming!’
‘Colonel Messi,’ she replied. ‘You would like a coffee?’
‘
Espresso
,’ he nodded to the obsequiously hovering waiter, then turned back to Carmela. ‘And please, on a social occasion such as this do call me Thomaso. We are after all, family.’
Carmela managed a wintry smile. She and her cousin had never been close. She watched as he settled in the chair beside her, surveyed the square in front of them. There had always been something watchful about the man from the
Guardia di Finanza
. ‘So,’ he murmured, ‘I hear you have found what you were seeking, the Artemis statuette.’
‘You are well informed, Colonel. But of course it is only one of the artefacts that we are tracing.’
‘Of course.’ He glanced at her, his eyes inquisitive. ‘But I think this was an important piece, in view of its history … and the events it has set in motion.’
‘Events?’
He shrugged. ‘The killing of that man Steiner. And the
subsequent
murder of
his
killer. But I believe you now have a suspect, a person who would seem to have been behind all this business.’
‘You mean the English politician who held the statuette?’ Carmela enquired casually.
He smiled. ‘I hear rumours. It seems he would stop at nothing to retain the statuette.’
‘Yet he gave it away,’ Carmela mused. She nodded
thoughtfully
, and remained silent as the waiter approached with her cousin’s
espresso
. When he had moved away, she went on, ‘But as I said, you are well informed in these events. You retain
considerable
interest in these matters.’
Colonel Messi sipped his
espresso
with evident satisfaction. He appeared to be in a good mood. ‘I have always believed that state organizations should not work in isolation one from another. Of course, strictly speaking my own department is concerned only with financial matters. But I soon realized, years ago, that financial information can play an important part in the rooting out of malefactors in many areas of criminal activity. It is for that reason I have always maintained a close liaison with the
carabinieri
. We pass information to each other. I have been able on several occasions to supply them with information which has enabled them to overcome problems, follow new tracks, identify villains. It has been a rewarding experience, on both sides.’
‘
Most
rewarding. I am sure it has,’ Carmela replied, unable to keep the irony out of her voice. ‘You were unable to provide information to the
carabinieri
regarding Alan Stacey, of course.’
Colonel Messi smiled. He raised a deprecating hand. ‘My reach is not that long. He does no banking in Italy, and we have no information on his financial affairs, nothing that might assist the
carabinieri
.’
Carmela nodded. ‘Quite so. But since Mr Landon has come back from the UK he and I have had several long conversations. We have come to the conclusion that there is little proof we can bring which will lead to the man’s conviction. There seems little or no concrete evidence that can link him to the killings of Steiner and Byrne.’
‘Frustrations can occur in all investigations,’ Colonel Messi murmured in a sympathetic tone, his glance flitting around the square in front of them.
‘So it seems we will have to settle with the recovery of the statuette, with the kind agreement of its present holder, Kovlinski.’
‘Ah. The Russian millionaire. He has agreed to return the
artefact
.’
‘To place it in the British Museum. That will do for the moment. To find its true owner now, after the depredations of the Nazis, the Trophy Brigades, and, of course, the long lapse of time, it would be almost impossible. But in a sense, we have perhaps been sidetracked by the Artemis affair. Perhaps we should now begin to look at other matters, other artefacts.’
‘How do you mean?’ Messi asked, his hooded, almost sleepy glance flicking back to Carmela.
‘Well, Arnold and I have the feeling that perhaps we have been misled into making unsupportable conclusions, that Stacey was probably not involved in the killing of Steiner. We now believe that the Steiner business, probably it was not simply a matter of the statuette: we now think Steiner was killed because of
other
artefacts apart from Artemis. Items that have come on the market over the years, or which have disappeared from sight, because of the activities of the
cordata
.’
Messi had become very still. But he retained control of his voice and his eyes were calm. ‘That is a possibility, I suppose.’
‘You yourself have no information along these lines, that could help us?’
‘From the files of the
Guardia di Finanza
?’ Colonel Messi considered the matter for a few moments, his brow furrowed in seeming concentration. ‘Not that I am aware of.’
‘And we already have much to thank you for,’ Carmela sighed theatrically. ‘After all, you have helped the
carabinieri
so many times. Provided them with crucial information regarding bank accounts, financial matters, movements of money …’
‘I see it as part of my job,’ Messi replied. His tone was now wary.
Carmela leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. ‘Of course, the manner in which you have been helping the
carabinieri
, over the years, it means that there was a sort of two-way traffic necessarily going on.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘Naturally, if you are to provide information to the
carabinieri
, it was necessary you become part of their counsels also. Is that not so?’
‘We exchange information, of course.’ He smiled vaguely. ‘I have already made that clear.’
Carmela nodded. ‘Of course, if you are to help in an investigation, you need to know the direction it might be taking.’
‘That goes without saying.’
‘Close relationships …’ Carmela murmured. ‘Arnold Landon was telling me that his own deputy, Karl Spedding, has made contact with you over the years.’
Messi nodded carelessly. ‘When he was a museum director, and in trouble with his board, which included several men of little probity in the matter of purchase and provenance of ancient artefacts, we had occasion to have discussions.’
‘And when he was asked for advice by Gabriel Nunza, of the Abrogazza Museum, he contacted you again?’
Messi shrugged, but made no reply. There was a short silence. The square was quiet. The waiter had disappeared into the
inte-rior
of the café. Messi finished his
espresso
, glanced at his watch and announced, ‘This is pleasant but I have work to do. What exactly did you want to see me about, Cousin?’
‘Simply to clear my own mind, to talk some matters through with you, to understand what has been going on. When my committee was established, you declared an interest in its work.’
‘Of course.’ Messi smiled, almost wolfishly. ‘You are not of the
carabinieri
, but your work is important in rooting out
corruption
.’
‘I agree. And you have helped the committee considerably, as well as the police investigating events. You were able to give us, or rather my colleague McMurtaghy, information that led to the close pursuit of the killer of Peter Steiner.’
‘You mean the mercenary Englishman, Byrne. That is correct. It was a source of considerable satisfaction to me.’
‘So one could say you were personally involved in the hunt for this mercenary.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Unfortunately, Byrne was killed by another paid killer, it would seem.’
Messi frowned, glanced at his watch again. ‘I don’t know where you are going with this, Carmela. I have business to transact. Can you get to the point?’
Carmela nodded slowly. ‘As I said earlier, Mr Landon and I have been talking things through. For instance, when you attended my committee meeting in Albi you did not stay long. When the name of Peter Steiner came up, you left the meeting almost immediately.’
‘I had other things to do. And I never approved of your dealing with a convicted criminal.’
‘Then, after Steiner’s murder, when the
carabinieri
were hot on the trail of his killer, this mercenary Byrne, you were able to
assist them by pointing to a financial paper trail that led them more quickly to the man they sought.’
‘That is so.’
‘But not quickly enough to prevent his assassination, in turn.’
Messi sat very still. His eyes bored into Carmela’s. ‘I see it as my duty to assist the forces of law and order.’
‘With whom you work closely, and with whom you share information.’
There was a short silence, and then Messi said abruptly, ‘I must go.’
Carmela laid a hand on his arm, detaining him. ‘Arnold and I, we are right, are we not? It wasn’t just about the Artemis
statuette
, was it? It was about other things, notably the
cordata
, the links established over years, the looting of other artefacts, the trails that were covered, the false provenances provided, even the stealing of Etruscan pottery from the Basilicata, all those years ago. The
cordata
is a rope of many strands: members of the
carabinieri
, politicians, businessmen, collectors, museum directors, academics who can provide legitimacy in their writings to false descriptions of artefacts, members of the government, civil servants …’
Colonel Messi gently removed her hand from his arm, and stood up. He looked down upon her. ‘It has been a pleasure talking with you, Cousin.’ His tone was cool, betrayed no hint of alarm.
Carmela squinted up at him and shook her head. ‘Two-way traffic. You had to maintain your credibility with the
carabinieri
, as well as keep up to date with the progress of the investigation. You know what I think, Colonel? I think you left my committee in Albi as soon as you heard Peter Steiner wanted to talk to us. You knew he had to be silenced. And quickly. So you left, and began to set up the arrangements. But they were hurried, and you made a mistake, commissioning a man who was in
retirement
, and had not kept his skills well honed. Then you learned
he had left a trail. If he had been caught, he could have exposed members of the
cordata
, you maybe, so he also had to be eliminated. You needed to know how close the
carabinieri
were getting, so you helped them, knowing that the second assassin – one selected more carefully – could be put on Byrne’s trail. Another contract probably, a meeting between the two
mercenaries
, and an end to your problem. Did the
cordata
threaten you for your incompetence in enlisting Byrne in the first place?’
He stood there impassively, staring down at her. ‘You would be well advised not to say these things in public, Signorina Cacciatore.’
‘Because I can’t prove them?’ she flashed.
Colonel Messi shrugged, and turned away. When she called after him he hesitated, turned back to look at her.
‘It was
you
, wasn’t it?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The theft of the Etruscan pottery, twenty years ago, when Colonel Gandolfini was murdered.’
He stood there motionless in the hot sunlight, staring at her.
‘My grandfather recognized you when he came into the vault. Recognized you in spite of your mask. Your voice, perhaps. Your bearing. It must have been one of your early involvements in the activity of the
cordata
. A young thief who in due course would rise to a responsible position in the
Guardia di Finanza
. And who would work undercover all these years. A thief, and a murderer.’
‘You are talking of events that happened decades ago, Cousin. And you talk nonsense. You will never be able to trace such matters to me.’ He raised a hand. ‘Continue the good work of your committee. But do not try to involve me in such wild suppositions. You will fail in seeking evidence. There is no evidence. Now I will say goodbye.’
‘I won’t leave it, Messi.’
He was already walking away.
‘I will find evidence! I will trace it back to you! I won’t stop!’
He looked back at her, shaking his head but there was now a certain hesitation in his stride. ‘I would not advise that course of action,
signorina
. It could be dangerous.’
‘He was my grandfather, Messi. I will reach the truth, in the end!’ Carmela stood up, her voice breaking with passion. She raised a clenched fist in his direction. ‘I will reach the truth! I will … because it is a matter of
family
!’
She watched her cousin walk away, a little unsteadily, to cross the sunlit square.