Elaine let Cattoretti talk her into going to his villa for
lunch. She was fairly sure that he knew something about Panacea, and perhaps
about Spyro Leandrou, too. If he didn’t know, she was sure he could use his
criminal network to find out, and it was worth spending an extra couple of
hours indulging him to get her hands on the dirt. She was fairly confident that
her visit was such an unexpected surprise that there had been no time for him
to lay any traps for her. He had given her his undivided attention and had not
even pulled out his cellphone, let alone used it.
Before they left the office, Giorgio took off his jacket
and donned a shoulder-holstered Glock.
“Owning a business like this, in a country like this, makes
me a prime target for kidnapping,” he muttered.
One of his Croatian security guards ushered them out of the
building, walking just ahead of them and opening doors and gates with his
keycard. There was a beige Mercedes waiting for them in the building’s
executive parking lot, the back doors open, the driver slouching beside it. Giorgio
and Elaine slid into the back seat.
They drove out through the diamond-cutting facility’s main,
heavily-guarded gate and were soon winding their way along a ridge, passing a
winery. Rows and rows of grape vines lining a gently sloping, craggy hill. A
follow-up car pursued them, driven by the guard who had escorted them out of
the building, and it almost tailgated them so that no other vehicle could get
in between. Elaine was impressed—they were following the same procedures the
Secret Service agents used to protect dignitaries and others who did not
qualify for a full police-escorted motorcade.
They drove through the hills for a few minutes and then
turned down another narrow winding road, with glimpses of the sea visible
between a series of huge houses built along cliffs. All of the mansions were
closed off behind by high rock walls.
The driver turned down yet another narrow, bumpy road,
topped with gravel. The Mercedes bounced around thirty more seconds until it came
to a stop adjacent to a huge iron gate. The follow-up car stopped right behind
them.
To Elaine’s surprise, their driver jumped out to open the
gate, leaving the car door wide open.
“You’re guards aren’t trained very well,” Elaine commented.
“He didn’t observe the Rule of Thirty Seconds.”
“What’s the Rule of Thirty Seconds?” Giorgio said.
“The driver should make a three-sixty visual scan of the
area for at least thirty seconds to check for ambush before anyone gets out.”
“We have a follow-up car.”
“Doesn’t matter. That driver should observe the rule, too. And
your own driver shouldn’t leave the car, either, even to open the gate. Somebody
could be hiding in those bushes over there and charge.”
Giorgio smiled. “Maybe you’d like a job, Elaine?”
She only chuckled at this.
Now she noticed that the gate was held closed by a thick
chain and two heavy padlocks, which the driver was opening.
“The next item on my home improvement list is a secure
electric gate,” Giorgio remarked.
As the driver dragged the chain to the side and tromped
back towards the car, Giorgio said, “These Croatian guys aren’t Secret Service
agents, Elaine—they wouldn’t ‘take a bullet’ for me. They’re just hired muscle.
If I’m ever attacked, the best I can expect them to do is defend themselves.”
Cattoretti’s villa was no less spectacular than Elaine had
expected. The huge three-story house was made entirely of gray stone, with
graceful archways framing some of the doors and windows, surrounded by immaculately
Mediterranean landscaped grounds. It was unusual, Elaine had to admit. She
certainly hadn’t seen another house like it. The villa looked like a cross
between a small castle and a cathedral.
As they got out of the car, Giorgio said, “This house was
built in the eighteenth century by a man named Count Banjski as a summer
residence, designed by a famous Italian architect of that time period. It still
needs a lot of renovation, but as I told you, it’s absolutely unique, one of a
kind. In fact, it was so unusual that Banjski took a page from Peter the Great’s
book to protect it.”
“After the building was finished, he had the architect’s
eyes put out with a hot poker so the man could never design anything like it.”
Giorgio smiled, his one eye glittering. “How could I resist buying a house with
such a history?”
Elaine wondered if Cattoretti identified more with the man
who’d lost his eyesight, or the one who’d taken it.
They walked along the stone path around the side of the
house. Elaine noticed there were two pickup trucks with toolboxes mounted on
the back. She could hear some hammering in the distance. They passed through
well-tended gardens on both sides of the path, and Elaine could smell thyme and
basil in the air.
“My cook grows all his own herbs,” Cattoretti said proudly.
He stopped to run his hand through a patch of rosemary and sniff it. He glanced
at Elaine. “Tell your goddamn Tony to put
that in his pipe and smoke it.”
When they reached the side door, the guard stood back and
Giorgio pulled out a key to unlock it. Before he could do that, the handle
turned and the door swung open.
Elaine blinked, unprepared for what she saw.
Lexy was standing there in a flowery pink Japanese robe,
her wild mane of curly black hair cascading down her shoulders.
She was barefoot, holding a baby boy in her arms.
“I believe you two know each other,” Giorgio said casually,
as he and Elaine entered the house.
Elaine said hello, a bit awkwardly. Lexy looked as
surprised as Elaine was. She didn’t utter a word, eying Giorgio suspiciously.
Ignoring this, he said, “You haven’t met Pablo,” and
scooped the toddler out of her arms. The brown-eyed boy looked shyly at her,
then gave a toothless grin and turned his head away.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Giorgio said. “A chip off the old
block, eh?”
“Yes he is,” Elaine said, honestly. His dark features
already favored his father’s, and much more so than Ryan’s, she thought.
Giorgio handed the child back to Lexy, who was still
staring at Elaine, sending daggers with her eyes. She obviously had no idea
what was going on.
Elaine wondered how Lexy and the baby had managed to end up
here, whether Giorgio had tracked her down or she had somehow gotten herself
and her baby out of Sweden and found him. Lexy had completely dropped off the
radar since she had snatched Pablo from Cattoretti’s Swedish caretaker on
Gotland Island and gotten away from Dmitry.
“Elaine will be joining me for lunch,” Giorgio told Lexy,
but in a slightly irritable tone.
A rather heavyset man had stepped into the far end of the
hallway, wearing an apron that only made him look fatter.
Tony’s counterpart, apparently.
“
Buon giorno, Signor,” the man said. He looked
uncertainly at Elaine, then at Lexy. “
Devo servire il pranzo per tre?”
“No, lunch will only be for two,” Giorgio said, giving Lexy
a cold look. He glanced back at the cook. “And speak English when we have
guests, damn it, I’ve told you that ten times!”
“Sorry,” the cook muttered. Looking at Elaine, he gave a
slight bow and said, “I hope you enjoy dish I prepare you.”
With Pablo still in her arms, Lexy turned away and stomped
off down the hallway, disappearing into another room from where Elaine could
hear the sound of a television.
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