Dreaming of Rome

by Dreaming of Rome (retail) (epub)

  She could almost hear her subconscious snort with derision.

  Chapter 15

  The following day Jo had a visitor at work. Carol phoned up from the front desk to let her know.

  ‘Hi, Jo. I’ve got a Mr George Wilson down here, asking if he can see you.’

  George Wilson? The name didn’t mean anything to Jo and she was just about to query what he wanted, when she heard Carol’s voice again.

  ‘He says to tell you he’s friends with you and Victoria.’

  The penny dropped.

  ‘Of course. Send him right up. I’ll meet him at the lift.’

  George appeared with a smile on his face, looking very business-like in a suit, collar and tie.

  ‘Hi, George. Sorry it took me a moment. I don’t think I’ve ever heard your surname before.’ What, she wondered, was he doing here on his own?

  ‘Hi, Jo. Happy birthday for yesterday. Sorry I couldn’t make it last night, but I had to go to Edinburgh for a meeting. Thanks for sparing me a few minutes. I’ll try not to take too long, it’s a work thing.’

  Greatly intrigued, Jo led him into her office and saw him close the door behind him before coming over to sit down opposite her. No sooner had he done so than he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a photo. He slid it across the desk towards her.

  ‘Jo, please can you tell me if you recognise this man?’

  Jo picked up the black and white photo and studied it. It looked as if it had been taken from a first or even second floor window, and the subject was a man standing by a dark-coloured car. And she recognised him immediately.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  An expression of satisfaction appeared on George’s face.

  ‘And what did he tell you he was called?’

  Jo couldn’t help being struck by his choice of words.

  ‘Markus. His name’s Markus.’ She searched her memory for a few moments before his surname came to her. ‘Finchley, Markus Finchley.’ She looked up at George. ‘Why? Isn’t that his real name?’

  ‘Funnily enough, it is.’ He smiled at her. ‘You must have made quite an impression for him to give you his real name.’ She saw him reach into his pocket once more and produce a laminated card. He laid it on the desk in front of her. ‘Before we go any further, I’d better make this official.’

  Jo looked down and checked out his ID card. The photo was of a slightly younger, very serious-looking George and it identified him as an agent of Her Majesty’s Treasury. She looked up again in some considerable surprise.

  ‘So you really are James Bond.’

  He retrieved the card and grinned. ‘No, Jo, still double-oh six and a quarter. Anyway, if I can be serious for a moment, I need your agreement to something before we proceed. What I have to tell you is highly confidential information and I have to ask you not to share it with anyone, and that includes your parents, relatives and friends.’ He caught her eye. ‘Not even Victoria. Can I have your word on this?’

  ‘Of course. My lips are sealed. But what’s this all about, George? What’s Markus done?’

  She saw him settle back in his chair and pull out a little black notebook.

  ‘You remember my sudden arrival in Rome the other week, and my equally sudden departure? Well, I was on the heels of this man, Markus Finchley. He goes by a number of aliases and he’s a tricky man to follow. I spent four days with the police in Rome searching for him, without success, and I only got word of his return to the UK on the Friday. He uses different airlines each time, sometimes private aircraft, different airports and different identities. He can easily slip abroad for two days and we’re none the wiser.’

  ‘But I met him at the French Embassy. Surely, they wouldn’t have let him in if he was dodgy.’

  George smiled grimly. ‘Oh, he’s dodgy all right, but he’s also very, very clever. As Markus Finchley in the UK, he’s clean as a whistle. He pays his taxes – well, some taxes. He donates to charity – that’s no doubt why he was at the embassy. He’s a member of his local Rotary Club, and he and his wife are respected pillars of society in Henley-Upon-Thames.’

  ‘Did you say “his wife”?’ Jo was aghast.

  George nodded and glanced down at his notebook.

  ‘Frances Ann Finchley, née Monroe. Age thirty-seven. They’ve been married for twelve years. I’m not sure how happily.’

  Jo did her best to digest that bit of news. What a slimy toad.

  ‘So why are you after him? You mentioned paying taxes? Is that what this is about?’

  ‘Partly, but there’s much more to it than that. The thing is, he’s deeply involved with organised crime.’ Jo looked up, totally stunned. ‘Not at the sharp end. He keeps his hands scrupulously clean. No, he’s the money man. We have reason to believe that he’s been responsible for laundering hundreds of millions of pounds’ worth of dirty money here in the UK, in Europe, and elsewhere in a variety of tax havens overseas.’

  Jo was fascinated. A sudden thought came to her. ‘When he took me out for dinner, I remember him telling me he’d just come back from the Caribbean. I suppose that’s why. But what was he doing in Rome?’

  ‘Have you ever heard of the ’Ndrangheta?’

  ‘No, never. What’s that?’

  ‘It may surprise you to know that currently it’s the biggest criminal organisation in Europe. It makes the Sicilian Cosa Nostra look like a bunch of Boy Scouts in comparison. They’re based in Calabria. You know Italy’s shaped like a boot, well, Calabria’s the toe of the boot. They’re responsible for a vast percentage of all the illegal drugs that come into Europe, principally through the Calabrian port of Gioia Tauro, the biggest container port in Italy. It’s estimated that eighty percent of the cocaine arriving in Europe from Colombia comes in through Gioia Tauro, and through the hands of the ’Ndrangheta.’

  ‘Wow. And Markus is involved with that?’

  ‘Up to his grubby little armpits.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Over the past five years there’s been a lot more international cooperation between law enforcement agencies, particularly as the American FBI have got more involved, and a number of significant arrests have been made. Some of those arrested were prepared to talk.’

  ‘So why were you following him to Rome?’

  ‘Every month or so, he meets up with his shadowy masters to report back and to receive his instructions. Together with the Italian police, we’re trying to use him to lead us to them. I call them shadowy and they really are. It’s very much a family business and the top people are all related one way or another. They all come from tiny little villages where nobody dares say a word against them or about them, and they seem to be able to move around Italy like ghosts. Ideally, we’d like to catch them all together in flagrante. The problem is, like I say, he’s a slippery customer.’

  ‘So how can I help? And how did you know about me and him anyway?’

  ‘I only found out two days ago from Victoria. We were chatting and she mentioned this weirdo who had frightened you in his car and then pitched up uninvited at your conference in Rome. It was when she said his name was Markus that I suddenly began to wonder if it might be the same guy. The real irony is that while I was hunting for him in Rome, you were in contact with him all along. If only I’d known. As for what you can do, that all depends. Have you got any contact details, email or a phone number for him?’

  ‘All I’ve got’s his mobile.’

  Jo pulled out her phone and dictated the number to him.

  George noted the number. ‘And have you any plans to see him again? Vic told me you pretended to be with an American guy so as to get rid of him. Presumably that means you and Finchley are history.’

  Jo nodded. ‘He definitely got the message he wasn’t wanted. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Not at all. His mobile number might be useful to us and, of course, if for any reason you hear from him again, I’d be really interested to know, especially if he’s going back to Rome.’ He handed her a
card. ‘My contact details are on here.’

  ‘Of course, George. If I hear anything at all, I promise I’ll be in touch, but I think it’s very unlikely.’ He stood up and she followed suit. ‘So, is this why you’ve been coming to the Italian class?’

  ‘Let’s just say that it helps, particularly for speaking to my Italian counterparts. Mind you, the dialect the ’Ndrangheta villains speak is virtually incomprehensible, even to a native Italian. Still, the Italian classes led me to Victoria, so that can’t be bad.’

  After George had left, Jo sat and wondered for a while. So, Markus was involved in organised crime. Now she was even more glad she had got rid of him. Her subconscious helpfully produced an image of her perched on a barstool in a speakeasy, dressed as a gangster’s Moll, surrounded by sinister men carrying violin cases, just to reinforce what she had so narrowly avoided.

  * * *

  Early August continued to be stiflingly hot in London and Jo often found herself reminded of her days in equally hot Rome. Of course, Rome had had its compensations, not least a certain hunky Roman man and his canine companion. Since her phone conversation with him on her birthday, she had called him a couple more times just for a chat, and he had phoned her. Certainly, as friends, they appeared to be getting on like a house on fire. As for anything more romantic, a thousand miles between them meant she didn’t need to overwork her self-control too much. Then, one night, as she lay curled up on her bed with the phone to her ear, he put the cat well and truly among the pigeons.

  ‘Jo, what are you doing for a holiday this year? Have you got any plans?’

  ‘Not a thing. I’ve been so terribly busy, I haven’t had a chance to fix anything up. In fact, I reckon I’ve got almost a month of unused holiday entitlement to take. My boss is supposedly returning to work on Monday, and I was thinking about going off somewhere after he’s back.’

  ‘It’s just… I was wondering…’ He sounded unusually hesitant. ‘The lab closes down – all but a skeleton staff – for the second half of August, and I’ve been thinking about going off on the boat for a couple of weeks. Depending on the weather, I thought I might head out to some of the smaller islands like Giglio and Montecristo. I was wondering, if you had nothing better to do, if you maybe felt like coming with me.’

  Jo took a deep breath and let the air whistle out again slowly. The idea of a couple of weeks floating around the sunny Mediterranean in a luxury yacht with Corrado was enticing and enchanting, but she felt equally certain that her self-control wouldn’t stay the course. And if she gave in to her animal instincts and then things between them subsequently ended in bitter recrimination, as had apparently happened with all the previous women in his life, it wouldn’t be the yacht that would be on the rocks, but potentially her whole relationship with her sister, Mario, and his family as well. Her mind racing, she took refuge in procrastination.

  ‘Wow, Corrado, that sounds amazing. The only thing is, I can’t commit to anything until I see what Ronald says. Can you give me a few days to let you know?’

  ‘Of course. Everything closes down before Ferragosto, that’s August the fifteenth, so you’ve got ten days to make up your mind. Just let me know before then if you can make it.’ He was silent for a moment and when he started speaking again, there was unexpected warmth in his voice. ‘I’d be really happy if you could come.’

  As soon as the call finished, Jo rang Victoria in a state of considerable agitation.

  ‘Vic, thank God, you’re there.’

  ‘Hi, Jo, what’s up?’

  ‘Vic, I need your advice. Badly.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Has something bad happened?’ Victoria sounded worried.

  ‘No, definitely not something bad. Potentially something fabulous, but it could also be catastrophic, and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Tell Auntie Vic all about it.’

  So she did, ending up with the crux of the problem. ‘The thing is, Vic, I really, really, like him a lot. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate, but there’s so much more to it than just me. He’s made it quite clear that he’s got no interest in relationships, just sex. I’m a grown-up of thirty and I’d be prepared to take my chances with him, even though I know full well he’s got previous. Everybody, including Corrado himself, has warned me off, but when all’s said and done, I’m getting to a stage when I know I’d be prepared to jump into his bed and worry about it afterwards. But this isn’t just about me. If it all goes pear-shaped between us – and if history’s anything to go by, it would do – the ramifications for my relations with his family, and his with mine, starting with Angie, are unthinkable. She’s already told him she’ll murder him if he breaks my heart.’

  ‘She’d have to beat me to it. I’d be there like a flash with a big bat.’

  ‘So, what do I do, Vic? Up till now, I’ve been able to put all that on the back burner because of the distance between us. But two weeks on a yacht with him, both of us half-naked…’

  ‘I can see your problem.’ There was a pause, before Victoria delivered her verdict. ‘It seems to me the most important person in this, apart from you of course, is your sister. You and Angie are very close. You can tell her anything. Give her a call and talk the whole thing through with her. See what she says and let her make the decision for you.’

  ‘Isn’t that terribly unfair on her?’

  ‘In a way, yes, but can you think of a better solution?’

  After Victoria had rung off, Jo checked the time. It was gone eleven and that meant after midnight in Rome, so she put off speaking to her sister until the following day. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

  * * *

  Jo waited until lunchtime the next day to call her sister. In the meantime, she phoned Ronald at home to double-check he was coming back to work on Monday and to see how he felt about her taking a few weeks off. He grumbled a bit, but couldn’t come up with any valid reason to keep her at work so she knew that, if she decided to go for it, she would be able to get away. The problem was whether or not to say yes to Corrado.

  Finally, at just before one o’clock, she phoned Angie, feeling pretty sure they would have finished lunch by what was two o’clock, Roman time.

  ‘Hi, Angie, can you talk?’

  ‘Yes, by all means. Mario’s gone up to the restaurant and, at the risk of making you jealous, I’m in the hammock under the pergola and I’ve just been watching a beautiful red and black butterfly flitting about. A Red Admiral, isn’t it?’

  ‘Black wings, reddy-orange bands and white spots? Yes, that sounds like a Red Admiral all right. I don’t suppose you’ve seen one of my elusive Purple Emperors, have you?’ Then, remembering the reason for the call, she cut to the chase. ‘Anyway, Angie, look, it’s about Corrado. I need to talk to you.’

  What Angie said next came as a surprise.

  ‘It’s about him and the yacht, isn’t it?’

  ‘He told you?’

  ‘He’s just spent about an hour over lunch bending my ear. He and Daisy only left twenty minutes ago. I was going to give you a call later on to tell you all about it.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He did his best to get Mario and me to come with him, and you, for a cruise round the islands. Now, don’t get me wrong. His yacht’s amazing and he’s a very competent sailor. At any other time of the year we’d be up for it like a shot. The problem Mario and I have is that we’ve got stuff happening here at the Country Club virtually every day this month and it’s going to be physically impossible for us to get away.’

  ‘So, he asked you as well…’ Jo was surprised, but impressed. It was reassuring that he had thought of getting somebody else along to make sure neither of them did anything impetuous.

  ‘Jo, listen, I wish we could come, but we just can’t. He said he’s asked you. What’re you going to do?’

  ‘That’s what I want you to tell me, Angie.’

  ‘Me? You’re thirty now, Jo. You’re all grown up and you’ve got to ma
ke your own decisions.’

  ‘I know, but it isn’t that simple.’

  She went on to lay out all the objections that had been running through her head ever since Corrado had made his offer. Angie didn’t interrupt, apart from an occasional grunt from time to time. Jo finally ground to a halt with the words, ‘The thing is, there’s so much riding on this. It’s not just a matter of whether or not he breaks my heart. If it was just that, I’d take the chance. But it’s you guys, the family…’

  She had to wait a few seconds before her sister replied.

  ‘Jo, listen to yourself. I’ve never heard you like this about a man before. All that bullshit you were spouting about love not being a thing and you not being interested in men is out of the window now, isn’t it? You’ve totally fallen for him, haven’t you?’

  ‘It’s not all bullshit… but, if I’m honest, Angie, the truth of the matter is that I’ve never felt like this about any man before. Not even Christian at the beginning. I can honestly say that if it wasn’t for the complication of our two families, I wouldn’t hesitate. Yes, I’ve been warned by everybody, including Corrado himself, so I know it’ll almost certainly end in tears, but I’d be prepared to take the chance.’

  ‘Just like so many other girls have done before you to their cost. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I know.’ Jo felt she was close to banging her head against her desk, but she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. ‘The idea of going off with him on the boat is an absolute dream, but I’m only human and I’m under no illusions as to how it’ll end when we find ourselves alone together.’

  There was another pause before Angie surprised her again.

  ‘I think you should go.’

  ‘You do? But why?’

  ‘For your sanity, apart from anything else. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’

  ‘But what happens if – when – it all falls apart?’