Chapter 73
CHAPTER 73
S TEFANO STEPPED FROM THE CAR.
He’d driven straight from Rome. He should be tired but he was far from it. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, clearing his thinking and readying him for action. He supposed it was the boldness of youth, but he told himself to stay vigilant. His phone had provided navigation to a high-end hotel and resort known as Castiglion del Bosco. He’d heard of the place and knew it existed, but had never before visited. Stamm had directed him to come to a building away from the main hotel labeled Villa Biondi.
Which he’d found.
Three men emerged from the villa’s front door. Stamm, Cardinal Richter, and the American, Malone. Seemed he’d stumbled his way to a party. They introduced themselves and shook hands.
“Stefano was one of my recruits,” Stamm said. “An excellent operative who now heads the Entity’s rapid response team. He is currently disobeying a direct order from his superior, Cardinal Ascolani. Come, let us sit on the terrace. The night is lovely. We need to talk. And we need to hear what Father Giumenta has to say.”
They all rounded to the one side of the villa and a covered terrace that accommodated more than enough comfortable chairs. A lit pool stretched out before them in a pale-green tint. Overhead stars shimmered like splintering candles, small brittle fires, fragile yet eternal.
“The man whose picture you sent is Thomas Dewberry,” Stamm said. “He is a contractor the Entity employs from time to time. Sadly, though, Ascolani has expanded Thomas’s use.”
Stefano said, “There’s a dead jockey in Siena. Thanks to him.”
“Add him to the list,” Malone said. “There’s a dead Swiss Guardsman in Cologne, along with a woman on a train. Then Dewberry tried to kill me and Cardinal Richter.”
“Dewberry was inside the Palazzo Tempi during the Palio, with a high-powered rifle. He shot that jockey,” Stefano said.
“While trying to kill me the first time,” Malone added.
“I suspect Thomas is not happy with all the risk taking,” Stamm said. “He is a careful one by nature.”
“I assume Dewberry is a ghost in any and all official records,” Malone said. “He exists nowhere.”
“He is quite adept at not being seen.” Stamm faced Stefano. “You are not the nuns ringing the bell, just as a test. This is real.”
He knew that.
And was glad to know Stamm thought the same.
“Ascolani has to be stopped,” Richter said. “He cannot be allowed to become pope.”
Stamm nodded. “I agree. But we also have an additional problem.”
He did not like the sound of that.
“As we all know, Eric Casaburi wants to apply pressure on the church through a sixteenth-century Pignus Christi . To do that he has been compelled to take several steps. First, he violated the tomb of Anna Maria Luisa de’ Medici inside the Medici Chapel. Then he appeared at a church in Panzitta, where Pazzis are buried, and wanted to open the tomb of Raffaello de’ Pazzi. The local bishop passed that request on to Rome.”
“He says he is a Medici,” Richter said.
“He just might be,” Stamm said. “Casaburi had a recognized DNA expert with him inside the Medici Chapel. He most likely wanted another sample from the Pazzi tomb. I suspect he is trying to establish not only a connection, but that he is a legitimate royal Medici heir.”
“That would mean Anna Maria and that Pazzi were legally married,” Malone noted.
Stamm nodded. “Precisely. Which does strike at history. Medici and Pazzi were not families that mixed together. Far from it, in fact.”
“Does Casaburi have a copy of the pledge?” Richter asked. “The one we saw expressly said there was another that the Medici retained.”
Stamm pointed a finger. “That is what we have to find out. The copy Ascolani has is surely ashes by now. A shame we do not know its terms.”
Malone smiled. “We do.”
And they listened as Malone recited the pledge, word for word.
“So you really do have an eidetic memory?” Stamm asked. “Quite a gift.”
“It can be.”
“Casaburi, though, needs the actual document to make his case,” Richter said. “Which is good for us.”
Stefano sat back in his chair and stared up, beyond the terrace covering, at the velvet sky, which extended in every direction for what seemed like forever. So peaceful. Beautiful. Comforting.
“Ascolani is headed to Florence,” Stamm said.
“You have eyes on him?” Malone asked.
“Not the most reliable. But some. Casaburi is at his family’s home in a small village east of Florence. Where he goes in the morning will be instructive.”
“It would be nice to know where Dewberry is,” Malone said.
“I believe I can help there,” Stamm said. “Thomas is managed by an intermediary. A duplicitous individual known as Bartolomé. I know how to contact him. I can exert pressure there.”
Stefano had no doubt. Stamm was an assertive leader who placed a great deal of faith in his subordinates. He remembered something Stamm had once said. An African proverb. His way of teaching. Every morning a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a lion wakes up. It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death. It does not matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle, when the sun comes up you had better be running.
He’d be ready to run in the morning.
It was good to be back on the right team. Stamm was a man of heart with a cultivated mind, a clear conscience, and a perfect command of himself. He also could see that Malone was thinking. He knew little about the man besides the fact that he was an American intelligence operative. But Stamm seemed to have great respect for him, which spoke volumes.
“Okay,” Malone said. “Find out where Dewberry is, then we’ll go from there.”