The Dark Heart of Florence: Number 6 in series (Michele Ferrara) Read Online Free PDF Page B

conveying a feeling of sensual anticipation.
    He moved to the middle of the square to photograph the bronze copies of
David
and the four allegories, the originals of which were in the Medici Chapels at San Lorenzo.
How wonderful it would be to see the originals here
, he said to himself as he walked around the statues.
    He was dressed anonymously in a pair of ripped jeans, a white T-shirt with an incomprehensible logo, and well-worn tennis shoes. A pair of dark glasses, not designer ones, hid the green of his eyes: a new colour, part of his collection of contact lenses. On his head was a scruffy baseball cap, from beneath which flowed a black ponytail. He had chosen the colour black specially for the occasion. He looked like a down-and-out, someone no one would pay any attention to. He knew how indifferent people were in a tourist city, and he was taking full advantage of that.
    Having left his four-by-four in the pay and display car park near the Ponte Vecchio, he had walked through the medieval Porta San Nicolò then up the monumental steps, proceeding at a normal, relaxed pace. What did he have to be worried about, anyway? Hadn’t he taken great care to disguise himself?
    He could surely have fooled anyone.
    Along the way he had passed a group of French tourists and had eavesdropped on a young couple. She was a beautiful girl in shorts and a tight-fitting white T-shirt and he was tall and fair-haired. They were holding hands. He had heard them exchange words of love.
    Poor fools, he had thought. All those illusions!
    After taking a few photographs, he glanced at his watch, put his digital camera away in his black nylon backpack, and went down to the terrace below. He sat at one of the free tables, the one closest to the railings. He placed the backpack on a chair and took out
The Lonely Planet Guide to Tuscany and Umbria
, making sure it was clearly visible.
    The only people about were tourists, mostly elderly.
    The waitress, a blonde girl of about twenty, probably Russian, came slowly towards him. He gave her a knowing look.
    ‘What can I get you, signore?’ she asked with a smile.
    He ordered an espresso with cream. ‘And extra cream on the side,’ he added. He felt like something sweet and he absolutely loved cream.
    While he was waiting, he pretended to leaf through the guidebook.
    ‘Your coffee and cream, signore.’ The young waitress put his order on the table and moved away quickly. Other customers were waiting for her.
    The cream was delicious.
    He checked his watch again. He needed to make a phone call that he had been putting off for several days, more through ineptitude than anything else. She would already be awake and must have had breakfast by now, he thought. He took his mobile out of his jacket pocket and dialled an international number. He heard two rings, then her voice.
    ‘I can’t believe it, Daniel. Where are you calling from?’
    ‘I’m in Rome.’
    ‘How lovely. Rome’s wonderful. I haven’t been there for years.’
    ‘Why don’t you join me? What’s stopping you? I’ll book a flight for you.’
    The woman at the other end did not reply immediately. ‘Do you need anything?’ she asked. ‘Is everything OK?’
    ‘No, I don’t need anything, thanks. But what about you? How are you?’
    ‘The usual ailments that come with age. You know. But I need to tell you something.’
    ‘I’m listening.’
    ‘I want to fire the maid, that Romanian slut.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I’m missing some jewellery and I think she was the one who took it, but how am I supposed to prove it?’
    ‘You can’t prove it. Just fire her!’
    Inside, he was overjoyed. He was the one who’d been pilfering the jewellery, little by little, and selling it. He needed money. Lots of it.
    ‘And how’s your business going, Daniel?’
    ‘Very well. I’m about to seal a very interesting deal.’
    ‘Will you be in Rome much longer?’
    ‘Just a few weeks.’
    ‘Tell me all about it.’
    ‘Another time. I’ve got