“We’ll also need money.”
“That’s already been drawn and is waiting for you. We’re only providing Roman and Tuscan coins. That way, the money’s origin won’t draw any attention, or tip off anyone looking for a USE operations team based out of Venice.”
The room remained silent for three seconds. Miro wasn’t about to wait until someone thought of something else; there was simply too much work still to do. He stood. “Very well, I believe that takes care of the primary business. I will remain in Venice until the fuel arrives.” He looked at Harry. “By that time, with any luck, you will have rescued the Stones and be on your way back here. Father Wadding, you will be escorted to the pope with all dispatch, but please forego leaving this island until then. Anyone who arrives in Venice and associates with us will almost certainly acquire a tail who works for Borja. Lord and Colonel O’Neill, if you would be so good as to accompany me now, we will compose a joint communique to your lieges in the Low Countries, and see to any refitting needs you might have.” He stood. “Gentlemen and Ms. Maddox, Ambassador Stone and I are compelled to depart within the hour, so my last words to you must be these: good luck and godspeed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Frank Stone looked out the window and down into the smallish courtyard below. Fairly new in construction, it was well maintained, with deep, porticoed balconies at the back. At the front, a modest gate led to the streets, which, if he craned his neck, Frank could see disappear into Rome’s Jewish Ghetto.
“It’s nice having a view,” he commented.
“It would be nicer if the view was nicer,” Giovanna retorted, but, smiling, came over and put her arms around him. Her growing bump now made itself felt whenever she hugged him. “Nicer still if I was tall enough to see it.” Then, distracted, she turned back toward their bedroom. They had two rooms now, a fine bed, windows, and meals fit for nobility. Well, minor nobility, at least. Indeed, Frank could still smell the remains of lunch: a light stew, mixed greens, and “I wonder if there’s any vinegar left?” said Giovanna in a suddenly distracted voice.
Frank relaxed his arms, let her move out of his hug and into the other room, her fine nose almost twitching in search of piquant delights. Frank smiled; then, remembering her latest pregnancy cravings, almost retched: the vinegar on the potatoes had been quite reasonable-but mixed straight into the pear preserves?
From the next room, he heard the irregular clatter of his wife rooting through the crockery, a pause and then a satisfied, “There you are. Now, where is the cheese?”
Frank felt his stomach spasm, and he looked out the window again. Not much to see, down in the courtyard. And then he noticed: not only were there no servants running about, and no porters lugging their various burdens, there weren’t even any guards. “Hey, Giovanna, have you seen any guards today?”
“No, Frank,” came the response, muffled by what was obviously a very full mouth. “I didn’t see any yesterday, either. At least, not in the courtyard.”
“Maybe it’s a sign that there are negotiations under way for our release. You know, make us happier campers before they return us?”
“Perhaps.”
“And maybe that’s why we’ve got the view. Maybe it’s not just so we can see out, but so some of our folks can see us. See that we’re healthy, happy: all that good stuff that my dad would want assurances about. And I don’t think he’d trust their say-so. He’d want our representatives to see it with their own eyes.”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, whatever the reason, it sure is a dramatic change from our prior circumstances. And as changes go, it sure is nice.”
“Hmm,” was Giovanna’s subvocal response, which terminated in a gulp. “Too nice, maybe.” A pause, then an almost comically diminutive belch. “I do not trust it.”
Frank smiled. “Honey, you don’t trust anything.”
“And you, my love, trust too many things, too much.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Speaking of which-” Giovanna let her voice trail off.
“Signor Stone?” called a voice from the hall. “Are you still interested in the walk I have arranged?”
“Yes, I am. Just a moment.” Leaning heavily on his cane, Frank poled over to the iron-bound door and tugged it open. Captain Vincente Jose-Maria de Castro y Papas was ready with a bow and flourish that was actually fairly understated, considering some of the extravagant courtly salutes that Frank had witnessed among Spanish officers.
Frank looked behind the captain. “No Sergeant Ezquerra?”
“Ah, it pains me to report that the lout is up to his excessive eyebrows in paperwork.”
“Why does it pain you?”
“Because Ezquerra cannot read.”
Frank guffawed once. “Damn. I sure walked into that one.”
“Pardon?”
“Uh…I stepped right into your joke-trap.”
“Ah, yes. You are kind to pretend amusement at my so-called witticisms. And to inquire after the sergeant.”
“As men go, my Frank is the model of kindness,” Giovanna said from the other room. “Indeed, he is too kind. I, however, am not.”
The captain looked at Frank cautiously. “I will presume, then, that Signora Stone still does not wish to accompany us on our stroll?”
Giovanna had appeared, hands on hips. “You presume correctly, Captain. Now go. The longer you wait here, the longer it is until I get my husband back.”
“I assure you, I will return him back here quickly, and certainly at the first sign of fatigue.”
Giovanna retreated into the other room. “What a charming lie, Captain. Enjoy your stroll.” The sounds of eating resumed.
As the door closed behind them, the captain observed, “The signora has an excellent appetite.”
“I heard that!” came her voice from the other side of the door.
Castro y Papas’ eyebrows raised.
Frank smiled. “Her appetite is pretty good, but her hearing is amazing.”
The larger, central courtyard of the main Palazzo Mattei-the Palazzo Giove-was imposing, with serried ranks of flowers bisecting the quadrangles fitted between the various buildings. They walked in silence for many minutes, the faint hum of bees and flies stilling and then resuming as they passed each of the garden’s colorful, and carefully tended, beds.
“Vincente-may I call you that?”
“Yes, or course. And shall I call you Frank?”
Stone nodded. “Thanks for suggesting this walk.”
“It is my pleasure.”
“Is it? I mean, don’t get me wrong; it’s nice, but it’s not exactly regular duty for Spanish officers, is it?”
Vincente smiled. “No. It is not. But it is pleasant. And you may be sure of this, Frank: I will not lie. Not even in little things.”
“Then just why is it that we two are taking a stroll in the garden?”
Vincente sighed. “Because, as your lovely and very intelligent wife has already surmised, I am to encourage you to trust me.”
“Can you really tell me that?”
Vincente raised an eyebrow. “I just did, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes, but-”
The captain snickered. “Ah, Frank, you are so earnest. It is a charming trait, really. Indeed, I think if we share too many such walks, the machinations of my superiors may reverse themselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, that I will come to like and trust you, Frank. Which it is never wise for a captor to do. He who imposes his will must never feel empathy or sympathy for those upon whom that will is imposed.”
“That sounds more like training for a slaveholder, than a soldier.”
Vincente nodded. “That is because, in our service, it is often the same thing, particularly in the New World. If it is true that the Spanish Empire is the largest the globe has ever seen-and that is true-it is also true that we are the least welcome in more of the places that our flag flies than any empire before us.”