The Orsinni Contracts

by Bill Cariad

  Zola realized his thought processes still had a way to go before regaining their former brilliance. But he was more than just grateful to the woman who was in the act of leaving. The woman who should be made aware of his gratitude, he told himself now.

  “I’ve no doubt he will be,” began Zola. “Maria, a moment please. Simply saying thanks for saving me from a bullet and a python, all within a few minutes, hardly seems adequate. So you should know, but don’t tell Sergio I told you, that Rinaldi sent another man to kill Canizzaro. We turned him back at the airport just before I came to you today.” He saw her body stiffen, but her smile was radiant as she responded.

  “I won’t tell Sergio. Thanks for letting me know, and for turning him back. His name?”

  “Crocci, but he won’t be back. The Americans are arresting him at the other end.”

  “Arrividerci, Gianfranco.”

  She was gone. Through the door before he could even reply. Zola decided to follow her example, and hurried to find the phone that would summon Sergio and reinforcements. With Maria Orsinni no longer available to him, he was already feeling vulnerable.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Connections

  The LUP building, Via Veneto

  Having done little else but think about the scenes her boss had told her to forget, Christina Verdi had been puzzled, and strangely saddened, to find her mind continually reprising a specific image from the recently witnessed events. Puzzled, because the image had been that of a man barely seen, and strangely saddened because she would never know the name of the handsome young man who had left Signora Pellegrino, the presumed-to-be-wealthy woman, to follow the foul-mouthed Feruccio Busoni. Then the image had reappeared to memorably close her unforgettable day. A day culminating in her being asked out to dinner by the nearest thing to a knight in shining armour she’d seen this year.

  For Christina, the excitement had began again with the incoming phone-call which had brought to her ear a woman’s quiet but firm voice which had sounded familiar. As requested, the speaker had been put through to Anna Catalani. Shortly afterwards, Anna Catalani had rushed from her office followed by her husband. The couple had briefly argued, but had done so loudly. So Christina had heard Alfredo agree to stay whilst his wife went to collect. Went to where, to collect what, Christina had been left to guess whilst Anna had departed at speed.

  Christina’s excitement had been taken to another level when the handsome young man who hadn’t looked like a tycoon, but had looked like a man of action, had returned with uniformed carabiniere officers and a warrant for the arrest of her boss. The handcuffed figure of Giacommo Rosso had still been visible through the stained glass doors, when the handsome young man had returned to the reception desk and had introduced himself.

  Christina Verdi had accepted the dinner invitation, not just because she had been told that she looked gorgeous, not because she had given up on capturing a rich man, but because she had sensed a heartfelt connection to the man with the sexy sounding surname.

  Canizzaro’s Villa

  “I’ve been told,” said Mario Corolla, “that she was taken from her bed around 4am this morning. So she would have been asleep, and I would imagine that they used chloroform at that stage to keep her under control.”

  Following the Orsinni ‘heads-up’ call preceding her arrival with Anna Catalani’s child, and appearing courtesy of Graziella’s urgent summons, Corolla, Canizzaro’s personal physician, was a jolly looking fat man with an instantly reassuring manner.

  “She’ll be fine,” said Corolla, “There’s no physical damage whatsoever, and they didn’t have her long enough to do any lasting damage to her mind. I’ll keep her under observation overnight in my clinic, by then any remaining toxins will have cleared through her system. Anna will stay with her of course, and this time she’ll be given something to help her sleep.”

  Mother and daughter were happily together again, currently sharing the telephone’s mouthpiece as they conveyed to Alfredo Catalani by sleepily voiced acknowledgement and joyfully throated confirmation, the message that the worst of their ordeal was over.

  “It would be fair to say,” resumed Corolla, “that the parents have probably been more traumatised than their daughter by this affair.”

  Grouped around Corolla at one end of the lounge-cum-library, Canizzaro, Graziella, and Maria Orsinni, nodded in unison their agreement to that expressed opinion. Canizzaro then looked at his watch, and Maria remembered that when she had entered this room, she had heard her uncle say that he had left two guests waiting for him in his study, and would need to return to them shortly. There had been no time to speak with her uncle when she had arrived to deposit the child with the doctor, before rushing upstairs to shed the Pellegrino disguise. She had showered quickly, and brushed her hair which now gleamed and fell to her shoulders, and was feeling glad to be standing in her own clothes again. Her uncle had already complimented her choice of the long cream-coloured skirt topped by a midnight-blue silk blouse, and the garments felt good against her skin after having endured the Pellegrino ensemble.

  “I’ve taken some blood,” continued Corolla, his own florid-faced features suggesting he had pressure problems with that commodity, “but I’m pretty sure the tests will confirm that she was given a mild sedative. The child herself told me that early today she was given a brioche roll with honey, and her favourite fruit cocktail juice to drink. So I would guess that she was given a Valium elixir mixed into the fruit juice. The elixir is cherry-coloured, so would have been easily concealed by the juice.”

  It was Graziella who voiced what three of the quartet were probably thinking.

  “It’s a miracle the child has come through this relatively unscathed.”

  “I would also guess,” responded Corolla, “that whoever was responsible for her after the abduction, knew what they were doing. From the child’s simple account of what transpired, I would guess again and say a trained nurse administered the sedative and ensured that her charge was kept in the recovery position when needed.”

  Maria Orsinni remained impassive as she listened. That the female she had knocked out could have been a trained nurse, didn’t alter the fact that she had aided and abetted in the child’s abduction. Maria told herself the woman had invited her fate, and forgot about her.

  “I am grateful to you, Mario,” said Canizzaro, “for coming so quickly to see to the child, and for reassuring Anna, and indeed all of us, in the way that you have.”

  “I came for the child, of course,” responded Corolla, “and I came quickly because Graziella, the cook made in heaven, might have barred me from your favourite restaurant had I not done so.”

  Maria was amused to see Graziella blush as the men laughed at that, and then several things happened all at the same time. Carrying her daughter, Anna Catalani was joining the group and saying she was ready to leave with Corolla. As she did so, the phone in the room rang for attention as two other men appeared in the lounge doorway.

  “I’m so sorry to intrude,” Maria heard the taller of the two men say, his voice telling her that he was an Englishman, “but I’m afraid we must be going now, Signore Canizzaro.”

  “I’ll get the phone,” Maria told her uncle, “while you see to your guests.”

  “Graziella can answer the phone,” responded Canizzaro, “I want to introduce you to these men before they leave.”

  “We can also leave now,” said Corolla, “and I am pleased to have met you, Signorina Orsinni. Come then, Anna, let us show the little one just one more strange bedroom before she once again sees her own bed in her own home.”

  Whilst Graziella moved to deal with the incoming call, Maria studied the newcomers as she slowly followed her uncle and Corolla and his party to the doorway. The one who had spoken to reveal his nationality as English was casually dressed in a brown jacket and off-white chinos, neither o
f which matched the colour of his shirt. She had noticed that when he’d spoken his dozen or so words, the fingers of his left hand had constantly moved between his shirt collar and his left earlobe. Maria quickly labelled him as a mid-thirties bachelor with an untidy looking mop of sandy-coloured hair on his head, and a nervous disposition.

  “I must apologize, Signore Stanhope,” said Canizzaro, “but this was an unforeseen matter which has caused me to be discourteous to you and Signore Kennedy.”

  Upon hearing the name Stanhope, Maria re-focused on its apparent owner as her mind begged the question ‘could it be?’ She remembered the described occupation of a man bearing that name on the card given to her by Tanaka. If this was the same man, what, she wondered, was his connection to Canizzaro?

  “There’s really no need to apologize,” replied Stanhope, smiling as he stood aside to allow the Corolla trio to pass, and fingering an earlobe as he continued, “But Tom here has a plane to catch and I promised him a lift to the airport. I believe we’ve covered most of the ground anyway, so when Tom has news of the timing for the next stage we can get together again and hopefully share a happy ending.”

  “Before you go,” responded Canizzaro, “I would like to introduce my niece to you.”

  Graziella chose that moment to materialise at Maria’s side with her message.

  “Capitano Sabbatini would like a quick word. He’s holding for you.”

  Maria was nodding her acknowledgement to Graziella as the man with the mop of untidy hair stepped forward with a warm looking smile on his face and held out his hand.

  “I’m Donald Stanhope,” he said, “and I know who you are, and I’m very pleased to meet you at last. Your uncle has been singing your praises, and I still remember my interesting conversations with that chap Tanaka on the subject of Maria Orsinni.”

  Maria was experiencing a sudden mix of emotions as she shook Stanhope’s hand and then released it to clasp the hand being proffered by the man beside him. Embarrassment was one of them, as she wondered what her uncle might have said, and surprise was another one because Stanhope had said conversations and she’d always thought that Tanaka had only spoken to the man once. Tingling shock was the other, more unsettling emotion suddenly jolting her as she made eye contact with the man who didn’t smile at all when he spoke to her.

  “I’m the sensible one holding your hand and wishing the foolish Thomas Kennedy didn’t have a plane to catch,” Maria heard him say. “I hope we both see you in blue again,” he ended, releasing her hand as she felt the heat in her face and heard Graziella cough beside her.

  “Sabbatini is waiting, Maria.”

  Stanhope and Kennedy had already turned away to leave, and Maria feigned ignorance of her uncle’s stare before he too followed the men. Graziella’s voice sounded again.

  “He’s a charming rascal, your Signore Kennedy. A handsome one also, I would say.”

  “He is not my Signore Kennedy,” retorted Maria, knowing the heat was still in her face and bewildered as to why it should be there in the first place.

  “No,” replied Graziella, “but he would like to be. Answer the phone, child, you’re obviously in demand today.”

  Deciding not to rise to Graziella’s bait, knowing only too well that she would be hooked into saying something she’d regret, inwardly amused at the woman’s use of the word child being applied to her after all she had done today, Maria used quick strides to reach the phone which she picked up to present her apology for keeping Sergio waiting.

  “Zola has told me what happened,” began Sergio without preamble, “so I know the child is safe. Is she... damaged in ways which should concern me?”

  “No,” replied Maria, understanding the question but sensing her caller’s need for brevity.

  “We’ve already got all we need to deal with Busoni and his people,” said Sergio, the relief at hearing her answer clearly present in his voice, “and Rosso’s secretary is talking. His apartment yielded enough documentary evidence to keep his defence lawyers tied up in unbreakable knots before we put him away for a long time. Incidentally, Rosso’s wife left him months ago and took his children with her. Evidently the secretary was providing more than just typing and shorthand. You can tell your uncle the luxury apartment is vacant. So, do I need to drag the Catalani family into the limelight by bringing child abduction into this?”

  “No,” replied Maria.

  “I suppose I should thank you for returning my sergeant alive.”

  “I gave you my word that he would be unharmed.”

  “I would have appreciated,” said Sergio, his tone frosty, “Zola witnessing less in the way of the homicidal mayhem he was subsequently forced to take credit for.”

  “You’re probably just annoyed to have competition in the hero department,” riposted Maria, “but since you mention the word credit,” she emphasised, “presumably your Colonel Kovac appreciated his Capitano’s special squad catching the Lucchese family doing their laundry.”

  In the brief point-scoring silence which followed, Maria saw Graziella leave the lounge miming cooking movements before Sergio’s voice returned in her ear.

  “You’ve been lucky, again, Signorina Orsinni. Once again it suits the carabiniere to accept a scenario partly created by your actions.”

  “The part which has given,” responded Maria, injecting firmness into her tone, “your special carabiniere squad its latest coup and safely returned a child to its parents.”

  Maria used the silence which followed this time to chastise herself. She was reminding herself that Sergio had thwarted yet another attempt on her uncle’s life.

  “I can of course,” said Sergio, “thank you on a personal level for both those things.”

  “Grazie, Signore policeman,” responded Maria, silently wishing she could tell him what she was really thanking him for.

  “This would seem,” replied Sergio, “to be the moment to say Arrividerci, Maria Orsinni.”

  “Arrividerci, Sergio,” said Maria, watching her uncle return as she replaced the receiver.

  “A problem with the carabiniere?” he asked, indicating the telephone.

  Maria quickly, and selectively, appraised him of the afternoon activities and findings he still didn’t know about, and ended with her recounting of Sergio’s report on Giacommo Rosso.

  “So once more I have been deceived by someone I trusted,” he responded quietly.

  “The kind of people you said I must learn to read,” she replied, “are not the same kind of people who were available to you when you were my age and beginning in business. Those you have recruited more recently, were not born into the times when a man’s word was his bond and trust and honour were qualities to be cherished.”

  “You did this once before, as I recall,” replied Canizzaro, smiling as he spoke.

  “Did what?”

  “Said something so profound for one so young,” he replied.

  “I’m ageing by the minute,” said Maria, smiling as she moved forward and hugged him.

  “Had I suspected what was really going on, I would never have allowed you to go alone to the Via Veneto. I cannot imagine what you must have done in order to rescue that child.”

  “I only did the kind of thing I’ve been training to do for a living,” she said lightly, “and you can’t hold my hand every time I go somewhere,” she ended, linking arms with him as she smiled.

  “When she has recovered from her ordeal,” said Canizzaro, “Anna Catalani will be offered, and hopefully accept, the position of general manager. The sale of LUP to the Vatican people will be conditional upon her retaining that position. I foresee no problem there.”

  “That’s wonderful,” said Maria, “Now tell me why Donald Stanhope was here.”

  “My favourite restaurant is probably open now,” he replied, “Shall we talk
while we eat?”

  They arrived in the kitchen to find that Graziella was evidently joining them for dinner. She announced that she had concocted a baked pasta dish for three, and in response to the query she answered that the macaroni had been married to bacon and spring onions and mushrooms, and had been laced with a creamy sauce and topped with cheese. Obviously privy to the ensuing subject matter, she didn’t look surprised as Canizzaro began satisfying Maria’s curiosity.

  “The Signore’s Stanhope and Kennedy are both assisting me with the delicate matter I have been tasked to resolve on behalf of the Vatican. Someone important to the Vatican has been kidnapped and is being held for ransom, and the sum of money being demanded is considerable. Stanhope’s insurance company is involved, and he is their negotiator. I have already learned that, hidden by his deceptive physical appearance and manner, Signore Stanhope possesses an impressive intelligence and is a good strategist. Kennedy is a financier who has worked with me before on behalf of the Vatican, and because of the complexities surrounding the manner by which the kidnappers must be paid, I have persuaded him to help us arrange matters.”

  Maria chewed on some pasta as she digested what she had heard, whilst concealing the surprising realization that her thoughts were predominantly on the man who hadn’t smiled as he had held her hand. In her mind’s eye now, and in sharp contrast to the image of Stanhope beside it, she could see a medium height figure impeccably dressed in expensive tailoring. Her uncle’s voice brought her mind back to the table.

  “Understandable now, of course,” said Canizzaro, “is Stanhope’s amazement when I mentioned your name in conversation and explained our relationship to one another. He said that he still doesn’t know how Tanaka obtained his number, or why he was singled out to be informed about Maria Orsinni’s potential usefulness to his company. But apparently,” continued Canizzaro, wiping his lips and reaching for wine, “they had several conversations, over which they formed a friendship of sorts. Tanaka seems to have impressed him, so much so that he said he had been hoping to one day meet the subject of their conversations.”