Foreign Affairs

The makeup artist, whose name was Marge, was unpacking some things and laying them out on a table. “Come over here and sit down,” she said.

Stone walked over and took a seat.

“Okay,” Marge said, “let me show you how to put your nose on.”

“On, so that it won’t come off?”

“Not unless someone rips it off. Avoid that.”

She held up a tiny plastic bottle. “This,” she said, “is, for want of a better word, glue. It’s what insecure men use to stick on their hairpieces.” She held up some latex. “This is your nose. Let’s try it on, first without glue.” She set up a little three-way mirror and then came at Stone with the latex, smoothing the edges. “Just a minute.” She got some scissors and did some trimming around the edges. “There, that’s good.” She applied it to Stone’s face and pointed him toward the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Good God!” Stone said, staring at himself. “It looks real.”

“Well, of course it looks real, I’m in the business of real. If I get it wrong, people can die.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, like you.”

“Well, I don’t know who the guy in the mirror is, but his nose looks real to me.”

“Good. Now for the glue: watch this, in case you have to make repairs.” She applied the glue to the edges of the latex, then came at him again, pressing and stroking the edges. “Now look again.”

Stone looked in the mirror. “I can’t see the edges.”

“That’s because I tapered them until they’re very thin, so that they sort of disappear into your skin.” She picked up something that looked like a poorly made brush. “Now for your mustache: it uses the same glue, and what’s more, it conceals the edges of the nose under your nostrils, where they are most likely to be noticed, because your upper lip moves.” She put glue onto the back of the mustache and pressed it into place.

Stone looked in the mirror. “It looks awful,” he said.

“Of course it does, because I haven’t trimmed it.” Marge picked up some barber scissors and a fine-toothed comb and made snipping noises for a few minutes. “Now,” she said, pointing him at the mirror.

“Ah, much better,” Stone said. “I’ve always wondered what I would look like with a mustache. Now I know. I’ll never wear one again after today.”

“It looks all the more real because it’s your own hair.”

“It certainly does.”

“Now for the glasses,” she said, holding up a pair of wraparound sunglasses. “Notice that they’re darker in the middle than at the edges. That will let you use your peripheral vision. If someone looks directly into your eyes, he won’t be able to tell where you’re looking.”

“It’s very dark in the middle,” Stone said.

“Let me give you a tip,” Marge said. “I knew a guy, once, who was almost but not totally blind. He could read a letter, if he held it up to just an inch or two from his eyes. If you get in trouble because you can’t see well enough, push the glasses up and hold something close as if to read it. That will give you a chance to look around.”

Stone tried it, and it worked.

Marge made some adjustments so that the glasses fit better, then she stood back and looked at her work. “What do you think?”

Stone checked the mirror. “I’ve never seen that guy before in my life.”

“Neither has Leo Casselli.”

54

Stone got up from his chair and took Marge’s arm. “Walk me over to the piano,” he said. There was a lot of chatter in the room, and it suddenly died. Stone could see well enough through the dark lenses to know that everyone was looking at him.

He reached out and felt for the piano, then found the chair with his other hand and slid into it. He played a fanfare, then waited. The group burst into applause.

“You look fantastic,” Jim said. “If you had walked in here in that disguise, I would have shot you.”

“He’s right,” Dino said. “I wouldn’t have known you.”

“Neither would I,” Stone said, rising and moving around, still practicing feeling his way. Dino reached out to help him.

“It’s okay, Dino, I’m not really blind.” Everybody laughed, then they all got very quiet again.

“Bon giorno,” a booming voice said. There, standing next to Marcel and dressed in red, stood a cardinal of the church. He walked over to Stone and made the sign of the cross. “I will say a special prayer for the blind for you.” He looked confused when everyone burst out laughing.

Stone took off his glasses. “I’m not really blind, Your Eminence,” he said. “It’s just for today.”

Prizzi joined in the laughter. “And you are Mr. Barrington?”

“I am.”

“I bring the regards of Arturo Steele.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence. I hope to see him soon.”

“I truly believe that Casselli no longer has possession of your lady friend,” he said. “He was too frightened to lie to me.”

“What was he frightened of?”

“The Church. Like many, he is not devout, but he is superstitious. There are many superstitions about the Church and its priests. Even some people who don’t believe think that we have special powers, like witches. Casselli believes I can send him to hell. Only God can do that.” He smiled. “But I can wave goodbye to him. Has anyone had sight of the young woman?”

“No, Your Eminence, not yet, but we are hopeful that she will be found soon, perhaps on the road from Amalfi to Rome.”

“May God make it so.” Then the cardinal began to work the room like a politician, shaking hands and chatting with people. Finally, he made his way toward the elevator, then stopped and turned. “You are all brave men and women,” he said, “and I will pray for your success tonight.” Then he was gone.

“I wasn’t expecting him,” Jim said.

“I was,” Dante replied. “He asked the minister if he could come and see us off.”

Marge packed up her gear, then came back to Stone and gave him an aluminum rod. “This is how it works,” she said, unfolding it. “Practice it a few times, and use it tonight—it will lend credibility.”

Stone got the hang of it. “Thank you, Marge, for this and for the new nose.” He gave her a hug.

“Just do me proud,” she said, then left.

Dino began packing up his drums and putting them into their cases, and Stone helped him.

“Would you have believed a week ago that you and I would be playing a gig tonight?” Dino asked.

Stone laughed. “No, I wouldn’t have believed that.”

“Nice of the cardinal to drop by.”

“Yes, it was. First cardinal I ever met. No, that’s wrong—I met one in Venice who was all set to marry me to Dolce Bianchi, until Providence intervened.”

“Only Providence could have saved you from that fate,” Dino said.

The room began filling with people, some in police uniforms, some in waiters’ clothes, and some in suits. Introductions were made, and hands were shaken.

Stone and Dino went to their respective rooms to change into their tuxedos.

When they came back into the living room a large screen had been set up, and the group had arranged themselves around the room, some of them on the floor.

Mike Freeman got off the elevator, and someone pointed out Stone.

Mike came over. “Is it you, Stone?”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” Stone said. “I am the blind pianist.”

“I recognize the voice,” he said, laughing. “I hear you’re the entertainment tonight.”

“Dino and I, plus Jim Lugano and Guido, our guitarist. Until the shooting starts.”

“I hope there won’t be any shooting.”

“We can all hope,” Stone replied.