Foreign Affairs

“So what do we do?” Stone asked.

“We’re all out of ideas.”

“Relax,” Dino said, “I play drums.”

Stone stared at him. “That’s a joke, right?”

“It is not.”

“You just want to go along on this raid. You’ll embarrass us with your ham-handed efforts.”

“How well do you play?” Jim asked.

“About as well as Stone plays piano,” Dino replied. “I played in the high school band and the dance band, too. Oh, and I’m not a civilian like Stone, and I’m good with being armed.”

“Stone? Shall we take a chance on Dino’s drumming?”

“I want him to audition,” Stone said.

“Oh, come on!” Dino yelled.

“I had to audition, I want Dino to audition, too. I think his high school story is fishy—he’s never said anything to me about playing drums.”

“Okay,” Dino said, “get me some drums.”

“I play with a drummer on Saturday nights,” Jim said,” but he’ll be using his drums.”

“Ask him where we can rent or buy a set in Rome,” Dino said.

Jim made the call, then hung up. “There’s a place called Drum City, out in the burbs to the south.”

“Let’s go, then,” Dino said.

“Dante, are drums in the budget?”

“I’m not sure how to explain that to the minister.”

“What the hell,” Dino said, “I’ll buy them and take them home with me.”

“No, you will not!” Viv said. “I’m not living with a drummer!”

“I’ll find the money,” Dante said.

—

Two hours later, Dino was all set up in Marcel’s living room, next to the piano. He sat down behind the set and played a roll, followed by a cymbal crash. “Okay,” he said, “let’s do it.”

“How much did he make you spend?” Stone asked Dante.

Dante winced. “Twelve hundred euros, and change. Dino insisted on the best stuff—said his reputation was at stake.”

“God,” Viv said, “I’m glad you’re not taking them home.”

49

Arthur Steele put the phone down and buzzed his secretary.

“Yes, Mr. Steele?”

“Get me Cardinal Prizzi at the Vatican.”

“Yes, sir.” She came back after a minute. “The cardinal is on the line.”

“Arturo! How are you?”

“Not as good as I should be, Pietro.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. How can I be of help?”

“I’m very sorry to have to come to you with this, Pietro.”

“Nonsense! Anything, anything I can do. You have only to ask.”

“My wife’s daughter has been kidnapped in Italy.”

“I am astonished! How has this happened?”

“A mafioso named Casselli has taken her and demanded a ransom.”

“Leo Casselli? That one?”

“That one.”

“But how do you come to be in business with this man?”

“I am not in business with him. I have had nothing to do with him. A friend and associate of mine met Hedy in Rome. Perhaps you know Marcel duBois?”

“You are doing business with Marcel?”

“No, with Marcel’s partner, a very fine man named Stone Barrington.”

“Spell.”

Arthur spelled.

“He and Marcel are building a hotel in Rome, and Casselli is trying to extort money from them, promising to pave their way. They need no help in that regard.”

“Shocking!”

“Hedy is being held at a property belonging to Casselli on the Amalfi Coast. Casselli is demanding a ransom of fifty million euros.”

“No! You must not pay it, Arturo, this will not guarantee the return of your daughter. Have you spoken with the police?”

“Yes, and they are trying very hard to help, but they are afraid to go in there for fear that Hedy will be killed in the assault.”

“Infamous! How can I help?”

“I confess I don’t know, Pietro. I have no ideas. My wife will take her own life if anything happens to her daughter. I am distraught.”

“Arturo, I will call you back in an hour.”

“All right.”

—

The cardinal buzzed his secretary, and the young priest entered his office. “Yes, Your Eminence?”

“That invitation I told you to decline—do you still have it?”

“I made the call—I think it must still be in my wastebasket.”

“Find it.”

The priest left and returned after a moment. The cardinal stared at it. “Call this number and get Leonardo Casselli on the phone immediately.” He sat, tapping his finger, for perhaps a minute.

—

Mr. Casselli, Cardinal Prizzi of the Vatican Bank is on the line.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“I am not. Will you speak to him?”

“Of course I will speak to him, you stupid bitch!” Casselli shouted, snatching the phone from her. “Yes, Your Eminence?”

“Hold for the cardinal,” the priest said.

Leo Casselli was not a religious man, but he was a superstitious one. He feared the Church as a teenager might fear zombies. He was instantly terrified.

—

The phone buzzed, and the cardinal picked it up. “Yes?”

“Casselli on line one.”

Prizzi picked up the phone. “Casselli?”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” Casselli oozed. “What an honor to hear from you personally!”

“What do you know of honor, you pig?”

Casselli made a gulping noise. “I’m sorry, Your Eminence? Have I somehow . . . inadvertently . . . offended you?”

“You offend the human race by belonging to it,” the cardinal spat. “I will damn you to hell!”

“Oh, Your Eminence,” Casselli said, his bowels turning to water, “how have I offended you?”

“You have kidnapped the daughter of my friend Arturo!”

Casselli remembered the name. Could the girl not have been lying? “Oh, Your Eminence, I would never do such a thing, I swear to you. The girl was a guest in my home—it was all very proper.”

“Was? Have you harmed the girl?”

“Oh, no, Your Eminence! I would never harm her. She is such a sweet girl.”

“Let me speak to her.”

Casselli gulped again. “I am so sorry, she is not here. She left my house late last night, of her own free will!” At least that was not a lie, he thought.

“Where is she?”

“I think she might have returned to Rome.”

“If you kidnapped her, she would not have a car.”

“Ah, um . . . perhaps she hitchhiked?”

“You find that girl, and you return her to her father at once!”

“But, Your Eminence, I have no idea where she is.”

“You have harmed her, haven’t you? Hedy would not leave there in the middle of the night in that awful storm we had. What have you done with her?”

“If you wish, Your Eminence, I will send my people out to find her.”

“You had better do that, and fast. If you have not found the girl by tomorrow, your soul will be in mortal danger. Call my office!” The cardinal slammed down the phone.

—

Casselli was astonished to find that he had peed in his pants.

50

Arthur Steele’s phone rang at home. “Hello?”

“Arturo, it is Pietro.”

“Pietro, thank you for calling.”

“I have good news: your daughter is alive and, presumably, well.”

“Thank God.”

“I spoke to this swine Casselli myself, and he assured me that she left his house last night.”

“Where is she now?”

“Casselli believes she is hitchhiking to Rome. There was a line of thunderstorms over most of western Italy last night, so she may have taken shelter someplace, but Casselli has promised to send out his men to find her. When that happens, I will see that she is promptly returned safely to you.”