by Phoenix Ford
"Rome is delightful in October. Even though this is really work I'm actually looking forward to being there," Sylvia said. "Have you set up your meetings with the company you will be scoping out?"
"Let's see.....this is Monday......yes, I set up the first meeting for Wednesday afternoon. They primarily manufacture tubulars as well as valves. Their offices are here in Rome, but their main plant is in Livorno."
"What's their name?," she asked.
"Industria Strozzi. It's an old family business, but there are no male heirs. The family want to sell the company. Apparently the company makes a lot of money, although anything related to oil and gas is always a cyclical business." John looked into Sylvia's eyes as he spoke.
"Why don't you tell me what I need to know to play the part of your assistant at the first meeting?," she suggested.
"Sure, that's easy," John replied. "It's going to be a kick-off meeting in their offices with their lawyers, top brass and certain key players as we have requested. My employers are sending people from Finance and Tax as well as an environmental site assessment expert, a compliance investigator and a qualified engineer to assess their technology and delivery capacity. Two lawyers from the firm representing us here in Rome will also be present. I will be introducing everyone before they send us into a special preliminary due diligence conference room set up for us to start examining their books and various types of documents. As my assistant, at the very beginning of the meeting you will give everyone a handout with the agenda and names with contact details for everyone at the meeting. Then, once I get started looking at their corporate records, litigation details and so on, if you need to leave to pursue the real reason we will be in Rome I can send you on "an errand."
"That sounds like a good plan to me," said Sylvia.
That evening after checking in they walked one block over from their hotel to the Via Veneto and from there to the Piazza Barberini. Their hotel seemed quite nice, though the surrounding neighborhood had not fully recovered from the decline of the Via Veneto area in the 1980s and 1990s. They found a small osteria and sat at a small table, Sylvia sipping a Campari soda and John some mineral water while looking at the menu. In a few minutes the waiter returned and took their order.
"Well, tomorrow is Tuesday, and I have nothing work-related until Wednesday. What do you propose we should do tomorrow?," John asked Sylvia.
"I must make a quick visit to the British Embassy to check in with the local head of MI6, but afterwards I thought we might visit Villa Ravasini which is open to the public on Tuesdays and Thursdays 10 AM - 5 PM."
"Do you mean the villa where the contessa lives?," John asked.
"Yes, exactly. To avoid Italian inheritance taxes most of the old families put their homes and art collections on display. This way we can hopefully gain some better insight about her."
"Where exactly is it?"
"It's on the Tiber river but on the Vatican side. I thought we could take a taxi to Piazza del Popolo and then walk across the bridge and then along the river. With so many tourists in this city we shouldn't be the least bit noticeable."
The waiter served their meal. John and Sylvia didn't discuss the matter anymore. They enjoyed their dinner and returned to the hotel. The previous night they hadn't touched each other, but tonight was different. Sylvia fell into John's arms, and they made love passionately, almost ferociously. Afterwards they fell into a luxuriously deep sleep.
CHAPTER 24
The next morning John was waiting in their hotel room when Sylvia returned from the British Embassy just before 10 AM. She was carrying a brief case.
"That didn't take long," John commented.
"No, but we are required to check in with the local MI6 team when we operate in any country, provided there is a local MI6 team. And let me show you everything they turned up on Contessa Eleanora Ravasini." Sylvia opened the briefcase and pulled out a file. In addition to a detailed background investigation report it contained various news articles from newspapers in Rome concerning charitable activities of the contessa on behalf of the Catholic Church. "I learned that on October 31st she is having a Halloween Masked Costume Ball in her villa as she apparently does every year to raise money for a home for retired priests. Tickets are 1,000 euros per couple and can be purchased at her villa when we go there this morning during viewing hours. I think we should buy tickets and go to the ball to get a good look at her."
"That sounds interesting and maybe fun too," John replied. "What shall we do for costumes?"
"That's no problem. I can get our offices in London to send over costumes for us, probably from an opera company. I was thinking perhaps we should go as Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand. Does that suit you?," Sylvia asked.
"That sounds good to me. I suppose we should wear some kind of masks too to better disguise our appearance." John continued looking at the news clippings which included photos. "She looks quite beautiful."
"Yes and obviously aristocratic. Are you ready to go to her villa? We can take a taxi to Piazza del Popolo, cross the river a short distance from there and walk along the river until we come to the villa. It should be open now. It's a beautiful fall day, so this ought to be enjoyable." Sylvia opened the door to the bathroom. "I'll be right out."
They crossed the river on the Ponte Regina Margherita and turned left on the first street which ran beside the river. The fall colors of this leafy district were magnificent with the crisp blue sky beyond. There was one palazzo or large villa after another, each set in its own spacious grounds. Even though they were in the middle of Rome there was a much calmer feel to this neighborhood which had once been outside the city itself. After about ten minutes they saw a discreet sign by the entrance to a villa that said "Villa Ravasini." They walked up the driveway and saw another sign that said "Entrata" with an arrow pointing to a door to the right of the main entrance.
John held the door open for Sylvia and followed her to a counter where a young woman sat. The room was set up like a small gift shop with postcards of the villa, books on the palazzi and villas of Rome, reproductions of art objects and other items for purchase.
"Do you speak English?," Sylvia asked the young woman.
"Yes, of course," the woman smiled.
"If the villa is open today for viewing we would like two tickets," Sylvia said. "How much are they?"
"Ten euros each."
Sylvia put twenty euros on the counter and asked "We read that there will be a Halloween Ball here and that tickets can be purchased. Do you sell those too?"
"Yes, I do," The woman replied. "One ticket which admits one couple costs 1,000 euros. That includes lots of hors d'oeuvres, drinks and four hours of dancing if you are so inclined. It's a fundraiser for a good cause. Would you like a ticket?"
"Maybe, but let us think about it while we look at the villa," Sylvia replied.
"Certainly," the woman said. "Here are two maps of the villa showing which paintings are in which rooms, and on the back is a brief history of the villa and the Ravasini family. As you will see, a portion of the villa is private and not open for viewing."
"Thank you," smiled John.
"To start your tour just go through the door over there," the woman pointed to a door on one side of the small room. "And please sign our guest registry."
Sylvia signed the registry using the names Alison Newton and Thomas Oliphint and listed their address as London. She then followed John through the door into an enormous ground floor loggia that ran along the side of the 16th century villa. The room had a very high vaulted ceiling frescoed by Raphael with scenes from Roman mythology. The expansive walls were also frescoed by other Renaissance artists with similar scenes, very ornate. The huge room had a marble floor and large windows overlooking the garden, but there was no furniture.
"I bet this is where the ball will be held," commented John as they walked through the room to a door on the left side at the far end.
"Yes and perhaps this room too," replied Sylvia as they passed
through the door into an even larger loggia that ran across the back of the house. Its walls were also covered in frescoes. "I'm sure it's much safer to have a ball with so many people in these rooms than in the rooms with the sizable art collection. Those rooms will probably be locked during the ball."
"I imagine you're right," said John as they walked through the long room to the door at the far end. Unlike the other room this room had many small antique chairs and two seat divans lining the walls, very formal. "I'm not sure I could look at these frescoes every day. They're so ornate they might give me a headache!"
Sylvia laughed in response. They continued their tour entering a whole series of smaller rooms on the other ground floor side of the villa. The walls of these rooms were covered in a rich dark red brocade on which several rows of priceless Renaissance paintings were hanging. There were many portraits, one of a pope and several cardinals, all of whom had been members of the Ravasini family. They then went up a large marble staircase with well worn steps to the floor above where only one room was open for viewing, a large formal parlor at the front of the house. Its walls too were covered with paintings. There was a small Leonardo da Vinci which John admired. "I would love to take this home," he laughed, noticing the security cameras above.
"Can you imagine the price that would bring at a Sothby's auction?" Sylvia smiled. She walked over to a window overlooking the downstairs front entrance and saw an elegant dark-haired woman leaving the house and walking towards the exit to the street that ran along the river. "Look! I believe that's the contessa leaving now! Let's return to the ticket office. I'll give you the money to buy our ticket to the Halloween ball, and I will try to follow her. The more we can learn about her the better." She reached into her purse and pulled out 1,000 euros.
"I would be happy to contribute to the cost," John said as they walked down the stairs.
"Thanks, John, but MI6 and the CIA are paying all our expenses. Just please remember to use Alison Newton and Thomas Oliphint if they need our names for the ticket. It's almost noon," she said, glancing at her watch. "Unless there's something else you want to do why don't you return to the hotel, and I will meet you there after I've finished following the contessa. Perhaps we should have lunch on our own and plan on an early dinner. It's almost 1 PM now, so the contessa may be meeting someone for lunch," Sylvia said as she glanced at her watch.
"Okay," replied John, looking at his watch, "except that I think before I return to the hotel I will walk down the Via del Corso to a men's hat shop. I want to buy a new Borsalino fedora to go with a cashmere overcoat. I just hope the shop is still in business. There used to be a good sandwich place near there too." He also needed to attend a twelve step meeting, but it was too late to make it today. The meeting started at noon. He couldn't attend tomorrow because of his meeting at Industria Strozzi, but he could attend on Thursday.
"Yes," I think it's a good idea to have lunch on your own. I'll meet you back at the hotel sometime this afternoon. I must rush to catch up with the contessa!" Sylvia whispered the last sentence.
CHAPTER 25
Eleanora walked to the river side entrance of Villa Ravasini and turned left on the sidewalk that ran beside the street. She wore a forest green fall suit with very plain but beautiful brown leather pumps and a matching medium-sized bag. Her Bulgari watch with three gold and seed pearl bangle bracelets and antique single pearl earrings together with her black hair braded into a bun at the back of her head completed her look of refined elegance.
She walked at a brisk pace because she was meeting Monsignor Polombo at a trattoria for lunch. In her telephone chat with him the day before she had invited him for lunch and told him she had something to discuss. She did not mention the topic or any details, but when he quickly accepted her invitation she was virtually certain he knew the topic must be related to events and activities related to the Islamic State and its persecution and murder of Syrian Christians. Polombo had simply said "My dear Eleanora, I would be delighted to have lunch with you tomorrow." As she walked past the Regina Mergherita bridge she started to look for the Via Germanico. She planned to turn left and walk five or six blocks to the edge of the Prati district where the trattoria was located on a side street. It was popular with Vatican personnel and the surrounding business community because it was virtually unknown to tourists and had good quality Italian seafood.
Sylvia departed the villa. Walking through the gate she turned left onto the sidewalk and raced ahead, seeing Eleanora's back in the far distance. Sylvia closed as much distance as possible without actually running ahead. Now she did start running until she rounded the turn onto the street where Eleanora had turned. Then she slowed down to a brisk pace. Her eyes scanned ahead, but there was no sight of Eleanora. However, on this street, Via Germanico, there were more people walking than Sylvia had expected. This made it much more difficult to spot Eleanora. Sylvia quickly walked another two blocks or more, and finally, approximately one block ahead she caught a quick glance of Eleanora's green suit when she turned to the right up a side street. When Sylvia reached the side street she saw Eleanora far ahead on the left entering a trattoria.
"Mi cara, Eleanora!" beamed Monsignor Polombo waiting for her at the front of the trattoria.
"Buon giorno, Monsignor!," she smiled back as they exchanged kisses on both cheeks.
"Shall we proceed to our table?," he asked. "They're ready for us."
"Certainly," Eleanora said, following a man through a glass door to their table outdoors on a terrace. "I was pleased when you mentioned this place. Their seafood is delicious! I just hope it's not too early for you. I thought we could beat the crowd."
"It's not a bad time," said Polombo. "Don't forget that I am a priest. We get up very early every day to say or sing prayers, and breakfast is usually at 6:00 in the morning. All I had this morning was a cappuccino and a cornetto."
"It sounds like we have similar schedules," she sat down at the outdoor table while Polombo took an adjacent seat. "I can't wait to get to the antipasta table! Shall we?" Eleanora asked as she stood up.
"By all means," Polombo smiled following her to a long table on one side of the largest room indoors. "I will ask the waiter to bring us a half-pitcher of the house white wine."
At about that same time, Sylvia was being seated at a table in the same large dining room of the trattoria, the Trattoria San Vitale. She saw Eleanora in the company of the same priest at the antipasta table on the far side of the room. The restaurant was just starting to get busy. As soon as she was seated and left with a menu she discreetly took some photos of Eleanora and the priest. Immediately she emailed a photo of the priest to MI6 and the local MI6 representative at the British Embassy for identification. She watched as Eleanora and the priest carried their plates through the back door of the room to a terrace.
A few minutes later the waiter brought Sylvia's glass of white wine. She ordered minestrone and a salad and got up from the table to go to the restroom which was adjacent to the exit to the terrace. She saw Eleanora and the priest seated at a table outdoors through the glass door as she entered the restroom, typically European with separate small toilet chambers for men and women with a shared lavatory between them. On the way out she sneaked a quick peek at Eleanora and the priest again. They had been served their wine and were engrossed in conversation. Sylvia considered moving to a table on the terrace but decided it would put her at risk for recognition later if not now.
Monsignor Polombo spoke in a low voice to Eleanora. "So, the poison attack was a success?"
"Yes, except for a certain number of innocent people who had to die in order for so many more to be saved from those savage terrorists it was a success. The huge loss to the upper hierarchy of the Islamic State has got to put a damper on their plans to establish a new caliphate of tyranny." Polombo stopped talking when their waiter returned. They were just finishing their antipasta as the waiter served the spaghetti vongole, spaghetti in a sauce with clams, which they both had ordered as a
first course.
As soon as the waiter walked away Eleanora said "There's something else we need to discuss. Unfortunately it's urgent."
"Yes, of course, cara. What is it?," asked Polombo.
"Without exposing you to all of the details, I received a call from Cyprus," replied Eleanora. "It seems that someone managed to sneak enough spent nuclear waste out of a former Soviet state to make a dirty bomb. The Brothers of St. Pachomius have a few spies inside the Islamic State. They learned that the Islamic State has offered two million dollars for the nuclear waste. Can you imagine the death count from the nuclear fallout if they exploded a dirty bomb in or maybe above a major western city?"
"It would be devastating," replied Polombo. "What can we do? Do you have a suggestion?"
"I was told that the seller is totally unscrupulous and would be open to selling to a higher bidder. I suggest we buy the nuclear waste for a higher price and then use it against the Islamic State!" Eleanora's eyes burned with an unmerciful intensity. "Would any of our sponsors be willing to donate three million dollars for this purpose? We could offer two and one-half million but be ready to pay up to three million."
"Yes, I don't think that's a problem. The billionaire who paid for our last successful strike against the Islamic State already offered to donate much more." Polombo had a serious look on his face when he spoke to Eleanora.
"Excellent. The sale to the Islamic State is planned to go down on Cyprus on November 7th. If we could buy the nuclear waste out from under them a day or two earlier we can send it to the Brothers of St. Pachomius in Syria by a fishing vessel. The evil of the Islamic State must be stopped!"
"I agree with you, cara. But I will request the money on one condition only. If we successfully obtain possession of the nuclear waste it may not be used to explode in a bomb in any particular place or at any time without my consent. We must remember that we are Christians and not blood-thirsty barbarians. I have no doubt that many innocent people would die along with the evil Islamic State fanatics."