"Ricardo Elia," I said. "But Lola—"
"I'd say he would have been more accurate if he'd said collectors and dealers like you! People who buy the treasures, or even steal them, then smuggle them out of the country—"
"Lola!" I exclaimed. "Shut up for a minute." She was waving her arms about, and speaking louder and louder, and people were beginning to stare at us. "I am not planning to smuggle the vase out of the country," I whispered. "I smuggled it in."
"Oh, right," she said. "What kind of idiot do you take me for? Smuggling an Italian treasure into Italy!"
"Well, it's true," I said. "I have a client who wants to return it to the museum it was stolen from. Now, where is it?"
"Why should I believe you?" she said.
"That's a very good question, Lola. I don't know quite what to believe about you, either. Why should I be standing here in the rain trying to reason with someone who leaves hotels without paying, thereby attracting the attention of the polizia, and who steals something from someone she's been sharing a picnic dinner with only moments earlier? Answer that one for me, will you?"
"Because I have something you want?" she said.
We stood glaring at each other, rain dripping off our noses. My jeans were wet up to the knees, my shoes soaked through to my socks. "Let's go in and get something to eat and discuss this somewhere dry," I said at last.
"I'm not hungry," she said.
"Yes, you are. I saw you doing your little match girl impersonation at all the food store windows, and just now you were checking out an escape route, weren't you? You chose this restaurant because it's on a corner, and has a back door. You were planning to eat and run, weren't you? Maybe duck into the church and hide in the confession box?"
She didn't answer, but she couldn't meet my gaze. I suddenly felt very sorry for her. "You won't have to, because lunch is my treat."
"I don't need charity," she sniffed. I couldn't tell if it was the rain or tears on her face.
"You can buy next time," I said. "Now, let's eat." I took her by the elbow and led her into the restaurant. It was a tiny little place, with a rather gruff proprietor, but it was warm and dry, the food was delicious, and the house wine just fine. For awhile, we stuck to neutral subjects: the weather, the relative merits of Cortona versus Arezzo, her ongoing search for Lars Porsena's tomb.
"It was nice of you to offer to lend me the money to pay my hotel bill," she said suddenly. "I did hear you, down in the lane, but I didn't say anything. I will pay it off, you know. I have found myself some work, a little freelance bookkeeping for a lawyer. I start next week, just a few hours a week, but I sent the hotel all the money I have and told them the rest would come as soon as I was able to send more. I hope that takes care of the polizia thing. I'd have paid off the restaurant with my first paycheck, too, if you hadn't come along."
"The offer still stands, Lola," I said, thinking that there were still a few dollars left in my now rather emaciated Swiss bank account. "But we need to talk about the hydria."
"You're not going to tell me again that you smuggled it into Italy, are you?"
"Yes. I found it in France," I said. That was true. I wasn't going to tell her I found it in the trunk of my car in France. That would be too much for just about anybody. "I have, as I said, a client—I'm not at liberty to reveal his name—who wants to return it to the museum it was stolen from."
"Where might that be?" she said.
"Vulci," I said.
"That makes sense," she said. "Vulci, or Velc, was a center for the production of Etruscan pottery. Some of the greatest Etruscan artists, like the Micali painter, were based in Vulci. ,It looks like the Micali painter, by the way, or one of his followers. Did you know that?"
"I thought it might be, but it would take an expert to ascertain that," I said. It was Micali school, the Interpol database said as much. I was afraid if she knew that, she'd never take a chance on returning it to me.
"You do know what you've got here, don't you?" she said. "Or at least what I... we've got."
"I think so," I said. I assumed she was talking about Micali. I liked the idea of we, though. It sounded promising in terms of my getting it back.
"Would I recognize the name of this client of yours? Given that you can't reveal it?"
"Probably," I said. "Where's the hydria?"
"It's safe," she said. "You have to tell me the name of the client."
"I really can't."
"Then you'll not get the hydria back."
That was progress of a sort. At least she was considering returning it to me.
"You'll have to promise not to tell," I said. There seemed no way around this, despite Lake's requirement for anonymity.
"I promise," she said. I looked at her carefully. "Cross my heart and hope to die," she said.
"You haven't got your fingers crossed behind your back, or anything, have you?" I said.
She grimaced, placed both hands on the table, and said, "I promise."
"Crawford Lake," I said.
"The Crawford Lake?" she said. I nodded. "Wow," she said. "Have you met him?" I nodded again. "In person?"
"Yes," I said.
"Where?"
"In his apartment in Rome. Why does this matter?"
"I'm not sure I believe you. I've heard no one gets to see him."
A cell phone was ringing somewhere in the osteria. It took me a minute to realize it was mine.
"Hello," I said.
"What happened?" Lake said.
"Why don't you tell me?" I replied.
"I'm told there were other people there. Did you bring them with you?"
"I did not. What do you mean by 'I'm told'? Were you there?"
"Of course not," he said. "I sent one of my people. Did you tell anyone about this meeting?"
"No!" I said. "Did you?"
"Where are you staying?" he asked, ignoring my question. "I called your hotel, and they said you'd checked out. You know you are supposed to let me know where you are at all times. Why didn't you tell me you'd moved?"
"I'm in the general area," I said cautiously. "And I left a message for Antonio, telling him I was on the move and letting him know you or he should call me on my cell phone, which is what you're doing."
He sighed loudly.
"And about Leclerc?" I said, waiting for his reaction.
"Leclerc who?" he said. "What are you talking about?" I said nothing. There had been nary a word in the papers or anywhere that I could find about a body found near the Tanella. I was beginning to think I'd been hallucinating in that fog.
"Where are you staying?" he said. "I'll contact you there later and set up a rendezvous place and time."
"Why don't we set it up right now?" I said. The man was beginning to annoy me.
"Today, then. I must have that vase," he said.
"Fine. Just tell me where and when. Please make it somewhere I can see you; that is, not in a fog bank, and not at night. Right out in the open. And come yourself this time."
"The Melone di Sodo," he said.
"Just a minute," I said. I put him on hold. "Do you know a Melone di Sodo?"
"Sure," Lola said. "Melon-shaped tombs here in Cortona. Is it him?"
"Yes."
"Ask him which one."
"Which one?" I said to Lake.
"The big one. Melone two."
"Melone two," I said, so that Lola could hear. She nodded.
"Five o'clock. Melone two. It's Sunday, so there'll be no one working there. It will be private. Bring the vase."
"Okay, Lola," I said, putting away my cell phone. "Here's the deal. You come to that Melone tomb at five this afternoon. With the hydria. I introduce you to my client. If you believe him and me, you hand it over."