Edge of Tomorrow (43 page)

Get real, Steppe! These
countries killed thousands of people 150 years ago. But they should
be more civilized now, right? What am I thinking? Those governments
must have people like me in their employ who would kill for
political expediency? Of course they do! Is one of them paying
the
catenari
? And if so,
which one?

Syd thought of something else which needed
clarification.

“Carmelo, check that part again where
it says ‘as long as
he
has di
Conti blood.’ Is the gender definitely
he
?”

Carmelo looked at the treaty again, running
his finger over it.

“Yes. It definitely says
he
,” Carmelo replied.

“Well, that makes it clear why the baby was
switched. Alfonso was afraid that if he didn’t have a son, he would
lose his title—and land. He could have had a son later, but he
wasn’t taking any chances. Hence, swap the daughter for a son,”
theorized Syd. “He was more interested in power and possessions
than his own flesh and blood.”

“That makes sense, Syd. I thought it was just
the male dominance thing which was so big back then. I can see now
that he thought of it as survival of his new dynasty. He was a new
king and didn’t want to lose his kingdom. He panicked. Instead of
waiting to see if he could have a son later, or even waiting to see
if his daughter grew up and had a son, he tossed her. He was a
young man. He could have waited!” grumbled Hatch.

They all sat in silence for a moment,
visualizing what took place so many years ago.

What happened to the
daughter?
thought Syd.
Poor
kid missed out on being a princess! Wonder what kind of life she
had? The swapee got to be king!

Then she said out loud, “What happened to the
daughter? Men really piss me off sometimes!”

They all looked at her, question marks on
their faces. She saw their expressions. Sara gave her a thumbs
up.

“I mean, what is this crap that only men can
rule?” she exclaimed.

Hatch shot back, “Brilliant, Dr. Watson!”

“You mean, women should rule the world?”
queried Syd.

“No! You hit on a third suspect! Follow the
blood! The ancestors of that girl carry the di Conti blood. If one
of them is alive today, and knows about this letter and the treaty,
they could make a claim on the throne of Monterra!”

“Follow the blood!” echoed Sara. “Did that
letter say who got the daughter? We need a name so we can try and
trace the genealogy of that girl.”

“Yes. I’ve got it right here. The family who
gave up their son for the girl was named Carfagno. Garda Carfagno,”
answered Carmelo. “He’s the guy who wrote the letter.”

“
Let’s get someone on this, Carmelo.
But I want this contained to the smallest number of people,” said
Hatch. “Too many people are involved already.”

“I’ll have Annie Bonsall get to work on it.
She’s good at this sort of thing. I won’t tell her why I want
it—just a complete family tree,” said Carmelo.

“Good. Next, we have to find out if either of
the governments of Italy or Monterra is involved in this. That
could be very difficult,” said Hatch.

“Yes, it could,” replied Carmelo.

“I wonder where the original letter is.” Sara
chimed in, “and whether it is for real or a hoax.”

“I was wondering that, too, Sara,” said Syd,
“but as I think about all of this, I’ve come to the conclusion that
it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean, Syd?” asked Hatch.

“This is not a legal document—say, like
a treaty, or a birth certificate. A lawyer would say it’s hearsay
at best, even if it is real. It’s the
information
in the document, not the document
itself, which is important—and obviously dangerous. For example,
take the Bible. Its authenticity doesn’t really matter when you
consider that the millions who
do
believe in it changed the world in the last 2000 years. We
need to establish exactly who knows the information if we are going
to find out who killed Gino and Dr. Holcomb. Does anybody know
where Dr. Helen Brooks is? She knows about the letter, and most
likely, about the treaty—that is her area of specialty: Italian
history and artifacts. In fact, if you think about it, knowledge of
the treaty is a necessary ingredient to understanding the power of
the letter. The list of those who know about the letter is growing:
we know about it, so does the SISDE, Helen Brooks, and most likely
the
Catena di Morte
group,
unless they are just hired hands,” answered Syd.

They all looked at Syd as she offered her
analysis, each one sorting out her logic in their own minds.

“That is very well thought out, Syd,” said
Carmelo finally. “I sent someone to the dig area and Dr. Brooks was
not there. I thought she should be told of Dr. Holcomb’s death.
Perhaps the police, or SISDE, have told her and she is in mourning
somewhere. I will put some agents to work finding her, then we can
talk to her about the letter, and who else knows about it.”

“That’s a start,” stated Hatch. “I want to
thank you, Syd, for your expertise and your sharp thinking. We
would be even more in the dark without your input. I know I told
you this was strictly vacation for you, so thank you for helping
out.”

“You’re welcome. I always enjoy historical
mysteries. Maybe we’ll have some more pieces of the puzzle
tomorrow,” smiled Syd, basking in his praise.

“I hope so! There’s not much more we can do
on this tonight, so why don’t we go upstairs and change and I’ll
take you all to dinner in Rome,” said Hatch.

“I thought you’d never ask!” laughed Sara. “I
haven’t eaten in Rome since last year!”

“Poor you! I’ve
never
eaten in Rome!” laughed Syd.

The meeting broke up and Sara, Syd, and Hatch
went upstairs to their chambers. As Syd searched through her meager
wardrobe selection in her armoire, she saw Hatch emerge from the
secret door and enter her bedroom. She ran to him and threw her
arms around him and gave him a passionate kiss. He ran his hand up
under her blouse and found a breast to fondle.

“God, I’ve waited all day for this! There was
way too much work and too little play today!” Syd exclaimed.

“You’re right about that! You were fantastic
today—the way you pitched in and helped us get focused! But enough
of that! The rest of the evening and night is for fun and games,”
replied Hatch, kissing her again as he continued massaging her
breasts.

“What should I wear? I didn’t bring much. We
were going shopping, remember?”

“For right now, you can wear nothing! You can
shop tomorrow, I promise!” he replied, unbuttoning her blouse.

“How much time do we have?” she asked as she
sat down on her bed and removed her shoes.

“Dinner will be late. I told the others we
would leave here at 8 o’clock. That gives us a couple of hours,” he
said as he removed her blouse and bra.

“Time enough to dally,” she replied as she
finished undressing. “I just need time to do my nails
afterward.”

“Dally?” he asked.

“Yes. Teresa told me that secret door is so
the lord of the castle can come in here for a dalliance with his
mistress,” she laughed as she watched him undress.

“You look like you’re ready to be dallied,”
he said. “In fact, you look good enough to eat!”

“Both suggestions sound good to me! I’ll take
both!” she said as she jumped on the bed and showed him the
Promised Land.

• • •

The next morning, Wednesday the
fifteenth of August, Syd slept until 11 A.M. The night before they
had gone to a fabulous restaurant in the
Trastevere
district of Rome, and then to a night
club. They did not get back to the castle until 2:30 A.M. Sara had
told Hatch and Syd that she was going to sleep late, then sunbathe
at one of the pools. Hatch had told Syd that he and Carmelo had an
appointment with the top man at SISDE, a man who had worked for
Carmelo at one time when Carmelo was in the SISDE. Since the SISDE
and the military intelligence group
Servizio Informazione e Sicurezza Militare
(
SISMI
)
were
subscribers to many of Triple Eye’s reports and services, Hatch
thought that his presence might impress the intelligence chief
enough that he might tell them something about the investigation.
In any case, Syd should sleep as late as she wanted—get rid of the
jet lag—and then Teresa would take her shopping in Rome. He gave
her somewhere around $2000 in Italian currency, and laid his
Platinum credit card on the huge night stand.

“I called my bank earlier and the credit card
company and told them that you will be using this card. Just take
your passport and visa with you for identification and you should
have no trouble,” he had told her. “Spend whatever you want. There
is no limit on this card.”

“I wish you could go with me!” she had
pouted.

“I hate shopping. You wouldn’t like me along.
This way, you can take all the time you want, try on a zillion
things, without me looking at my watch every five minutes,” he had
laughed.

“Will I see you at all tomorrow—I should say
today, it’s nearly 3:00 A.M.”

“Both of us should be back by cocktail
hour.”

“Would you like a nightcap, or are you too
tired?” she had said as she straddled his prone body. She reached
over and put an extra pillow under his head.

“I thought you would be too exhausted—all
that dancing you did with Alberto!” he teased.

“I’m not too tired for this. Just be quiet
and have your nightcap!”

“OK, lean forward a little more. That’s
better! Which one first?” he had said, reaching for a breast.

• • •

Syd stretched lazily, still naked. She had
been too exhausted to put on a nightgown after their nightcap, and
had fallen asleep in his arms. She got up and walked to the huge
bathroom and showered for a good 25 minutes, shaving her legs and
armpits while she was there. She dressed in a pink dress that
reached to just above her knees, and put on flat sandals. She put
the credit card and the cash in her wallet and checked that her
passport and visa were in her purse. She saw her travel knife in
her purse. It was a short, deadly, double-edged thing in a soft
leather sheath. It was made of extremely hard plastic so it would
not set off metal detectors, but still held a very sharp edge. The
MOSSAD had kept her supplied with them when she was active. She had
two left. The other one was in a special scabbard sewn into the
front hem of her black leather miniskirt, where it was easily
accessible. She put the knife back in her purse before she closed
it. She called Teresa’s extension and was told to meet her in the
ancient kitchen for some coffee and breakfast—if she wished—and
then they would do the town. She asked for directions to the
kitchen before she hung up.

As she drank coffee and nibbled on toast, Syd
enjoyed Teresa’s youthful exuberance. Teresa was dressed in a white
peasant blouse with elastic in the top so she could wear it off
both shoulders. She was obviously braless, but then she didn’t need
a bra at her age Syd concluded. Her skirt was bright and
multicolored, reaching to just above her knees. She wore
high-heeled sandals on her feet. She looked quite Italian.

“Do you think we can buy me something like
you’re wearing, Teresa? It looks so cool, and cheerful,” said
Syd.

“Si, Signorina
Syd. You will look very sexy in this type of blouse! You will
fill it out much better than I do!” she giggled. “My cousin Paolo
will drive us to Rome. Carmelo said we can use the Mercedes—in your
honor, not mine! I will take you to
Via
Condotti
, the shopping district. I know much
better—and cheaper—places, but since this is your first shopping in
Rome, you must experience
Via
Condotti
.”

• • •

Paolo was dark-haired, 25 years old,
and just an inch taller than Syd. He had a powerful build and Syd
thought he was the stereotype of the
Italian Stallion
, and was probably sought after
by many young Italian women.

The three of them got into the black Mercedes
sedan, the two women in back, Paolo driving. They crossed the
bridge over the moat and headed toward Rome, some 20 miles away.
None of them noticed a blue, four-door Audi pull out of a side lane
and get behind them.

• • •

Paolo dropped them off in the shopping
district after they agreed on a place where he would pick them up
at 4:00 o’clock. The two women shopped for two hours, then had
lunch at a sidewalk cafe. Syd was having a great time, and had
several shopping bags full of purchases for the two of them to lug
around. Syd had bought Teresa a few items when she saw how much
Teresa had admired them with youthful delight. She had made a
lifelong friend.

The two men in the blue Audi passed the cafe
for the second time, the passenger peering intently at the two
women. Speaking in Italian, he said to the driver, “It’s too
crowded here. We’ll have to wait until they move on. Circle the
block again.”

Syd and Teresa finished lunch, gathered
their shopping bags and moved on down the street, nearing the place
where they were to meet Paolo in 45 minutes. The foot traffic grew
sparser, and they went from store to store, buying very little
more: they were shopped out. As they exited a store and began
walking again, the blue Audi pulled up to the curb and stopped. The
passenger got out, opened the back door, and approached them. Syd
looked at him quizzically, thinking he looked like the stereotype
mobster in
The Sopranos
, a TV
series about the Mafia. Syd’s danger alarm went off and she glanced
around, taking in the environment. The closest pedestrian was at
the end of the block. The man came up to them and said something in
Italian, which Syd did not understand, but the tone of his voice
sent warning signals up her spine. Dr. Zorrina went on full
alert.