Massiter glowered at him. “Please, Daniel. One must never ask a collector that.” He stared at the painting. “My sympathies tend to lie with Cain, I’m afraid. But I imagine that’s what you’d expect.”
Daniel stood between Massiter and the tunnel leading to the ground floor. There was, he felt sure, some faint sound above.
“Well!” Massiter urged. “Let’s find a gift for you. The Titian is out of the question, of course. It would produce no end of problems for us both in the public domain, and I don’t think you’re ready — quite — for your own little treasure house. But there are items here that have no difficult antecedents. This is for you, Daniel, isn’t it? Not for the auction? I sell myself, from time to time, but I’d be offended if I thought it was mere money that you sought.”
There was a distant noise. He hoped that Massiter had not heard it.
“Why do you keep these objects, Hugo?” he asked. “What use are they, hidden away here like this?”
Massiter blinked. “They are mine. What other use do they need?”
“And are people yours too?”
“If I desire them. And only if they’re willing, of course. I can’t tempt the saintly. I go only where I’m invited. You, of all people, must realise that.”
Daniel stared at the bed in the corner. Massiter followed the direction of his gaze.
“That’s just a bed.”
“For what?”
Massiter smiled. “Many uses. Mainly pleasurable. To me, at least.”
“Tell me, Hugo. The girl. From ten years ago. Her body was found near here. You took her to that bed?”
“Susanna Gianni? Of course.” He shrugged. “At least, I tried. She was beautiful. She owed me much, and would now be even greater in my debt had she lived.”
Daniel became more aware of the weapon in his grasp.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Massiter insisted. “As I said, I enjoy a little fight. But she was still breathing when I was done. Had she taken my advice to wait awhile and recover her composure, I feel sure she would still be alive now. Whoever threw the poor girl into that canal, it was not me. I didn’t wish her dead, Daniel. Why should I, when she had such exquisite uses left? Besides…”
He placed a hand on his chin, searching for the correct words. “I wasn’t finished with that child, to be frank. I still feel cheated. There’s a mystery there that continues to puzzle me.” Massiter walked forward to stand in front of him, eyeing the gun. “You have to choose your gift. That’s why we came.”
Daniel gazed into his face, seeing no emotion, no humanity there. “I would like the Guarneri back, of course. And I should like the music I found, Hugo. All of it.”
“Ah!” Massiter declared. “Scacchi was clever. He saw your potential. Much sooner than I did. Have you thought of that?”
Some foreign flame of anger rose in Daniel Forster’s mind. “A fiddle and some music, Hugo. You killed Paul for such small things? And Scacchi too?”
Hugo Massiter bellowed with laughter. “Do me justice, Daniel. I killed them both outright. I had a little fellow I know sneak into that hospital on the Lido and smother Scacchi gently while the stupid nurses were dozing. They were a close pair, in any case. It would have been a sin to leave one alive. I could tell that night I visited. The American was no pushover once I made my intentions clear. He left me little choice.”
Daniel’s rage left him speechless. Massiter seemed amused by his reaction. “Don’t be too cross with me. I would have killed Scacchi myself, out of courtesy, had it been possible. A mite risky, though. It was not done with malice, you understand. I couldn’t have him waking up and telling all and sundry about how I called on them, could I?”
“But why did you visit them in the first place, Hugo? They were small men. They were dying. This is all beneath you, surely?”
Massiter seemed disappointed. “I’m amazed you have to ask. Because they had stolen something precious of mine and refused to return it. What greater crime can there be? I was robbed, Daniel, and cheated by that old man. It was all quite uncalled-for.”
Daniel lifted the gun and pointed it at Massiter’s face. “I could kill you, Hugo. I don’t care about the consequences.”
“Of course!” Massiter shrugged. “But I can’t give you the Guarneri. Or the music. They didn’t have them. Said they’d spirited the lot somewhere else. At least they did after Scacchi started his wheezing and I’d stuck that American plenty of times to get him talking. The trouble was, by that time they made such a noise I had no choice but to be out of there. Footsteps on the stairs. I believed they were yours, and I’m not one to hang around when the numbers don’t add up. Besides, it was a ruse; I was sure of that. Those two wanted me out of the place. Yet the instrument really wasn’t there at all, was it? You see what I mean about the mystery?”
Massiter wore his most pleasant smile. Daniel felt the weight of the weapon in his fingers. The barrel was no more than a few inches from Massiter’s face.
“Well? We don’t have all evening. What is your price to be? Not the Guarneri, for sure. I don’t have it. Me instead?”
Daniel looked into the grey eyes and saw the amusement there. He knew he was being taunted. He lowered the gun and said, “After a fashion.”
“Oh?” The sense of pleasure in his expression never diminished.
There was the sound of feet moving on the stairs. Massiter turned theatrically towards the entrance. Giulia Morelli strode into the cellar, followed by a tall dark man in jeans and a white shirt who held, conspicuously, a long police revolver in front of him.
“Captain?” Massiter said pleasantly. “You surely haven’t been eavesdropping? Such a rude habit.”
Giulia Morelli walked briskly in front of them, then forced Massiter’s arms into the air, checking for a weapon. He held his hands above her, amused, holding open his jacket, exposing a fat leather wallet in the inside pocket. “How much? Take what you like.”
“What?” she snapped.
“My dear, I can bribe you. Or I can bribe your superior. Or his, come to that. There are so many fleas feeding on one another in this city. Your rank in the pecking order is of no interest to me. What crime is there here to interest you? A little smuggling—”
“Three murders, Signor Massiter,” she said. “And Susanna Gianni.”
“Ah,” he said, remembering. “You still have a bee in your bonnet about that girl. It’s all so much history, surely?”
“You’re a powerful man. But you won’t bribe your way out of this. We may behave with dignity, I think? If we go to the station now, we can avoid much fuss. Much publicity.”
“Surely not?” Massiter asked. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
She shuffled on her feet nervously. Daniel looked at the stairs. They were on their own. She seemed to expect some support. “I have limited patience,” she said. “Please.”
“Ah,” Massiter said, seeing her companion. “Biagio! You are well?”
She stared at the figure opposite, uncomprehending. The young policeman held the gun loosely at his side.
“Sì, Signor Massiter.”
Massiter nodded. “I am glad to hear it. And I still owe you, naturally, for that news of our friend Rizzo. And the rest. I remain most grateful.”
Giulia Morelli’s face fell. “Biagio…?” she asked.
Massiter yawned. “Oh, for God’s sake, man. Kill the bitch, will you? She bores me so.”
Daniel saw the revolver rise from Biagio’s side, and leapt forward, fumbling with his own weapon, struggling as Massiter pounced, then punched him once, hard, on the back of the neck, forcing him to the ground, where two powerful hands wrestled with his.
The cavernous room was filled with an explosion that hurt the ears and echoed around the bare bricks. Daniel looked up from the floor and saw Giulia Morelli staggering slowly backwards, a neat black hole in the fabric of her dark jacket, something liquid pumping from it. Biagio watched greedily, gun ready for a second shot if he needed it. Then she fell against the wall and slumped to the ground. Her mouth opened, her throat formed some unidentifiable word, she breathed blood that ran over her lips and formed a long, dark stain down her chin.