'I agree with you, but he is my responsibility.'
'Are you going to use your influence?'
'What influence?' The don flashed a grin.
They stood staring at each other until Angela glanced at McCabe.
'This is the friend I was telling you about.'
Don Gennaro turned and looked at him now for the first time.
'Nice to meet you,' McCabe said, offering his hand, but the don looked away, his attention back on Angela.
'He has to talk to you,' Angela said. 'Listen to him, will you? I'll wait in the salon.' She gave McCabe a quick glance and walked out of the room.
Now the don focused his attention on him, and McCabe had to admit this gray-haired old dude made him nervous. He was about to say, you owe me sixty thousand euros, but decided he'd better be a little more diplomatic. He could see Mauro about fifteen feet away, watching him. 'Roberto Mazara gave you some money,' McCabe said. 'But it was not his to give. The money belongs to me and I need it back.' He thought that summed it up pretty well.
The don stared at him, studying him. 'Who are you, come into my house, talk to me this way?'
McCabe shifted his weight, took a breath, thinking it couldn't be going any worse. Walk out right now don't say another word. He looked past the don at the paintings and sculptures behind him. 'Forgive me, Don Gennaro. I have nothing but respect for anyone with such an impressive collection of art.'
The don eased up, let out a breath, seemed to relax a little.
McCabe looked at the wall. 'Is that Madonna and Child?' He had seen photos of it, created in marble relief.
The don moved toward it and McCabe followed.
'Do you know who did it?'
'Desiderio.'
The don looked at him and nodded.
Next was a bronze porphyry sarcophagus by Verrochio, and an early Renaissance sculpture of David the shepherd boy who killed Goliath. McCabe had seen earlier versions, knew the distinctive style. 'Donatello, of course.'
Carlo Gennaro grinned. 'What is your opinion of this one?'
'It's a Tintoretto,' McCabe said. 'Unmistakable.' It was a Quattrocento action figure stroked out of charcoal, conveying so much energy and emotion. 'I wouldn't mind having it in my collection.'
'You have a collection?' The don perked up.
'Five days ago I was a student.'
'What are you now?'
'A former student.'
There was a glint in the don's eye.
'And this one?' He pointed to a painting.
McCabe knew it. 'Bronzino's Allegory with Venus and Cupid. Commissioned by Cosimo de' Medici and given it to King Francis I of France. But it's supposed to be in the National Gallery in London.'
The don smiled. He seemed amused. 'Do you understand its meaning?'
'It's a male allegory of syphilis,' McCabe said. 'Look to the right, you see the face of a beautiful girl, but she's really a monster with a serpent's tail and the legs and claws of a lion.'
The don's expression was serious for a beat until he broke into a grin.
Don Gennaro said, 'No, I do not think so. The winged creature is Father Time. Look. He pulls back the drape to reveal Cupid kissing his mother and touching her breast, while Jest or Folly toss roses on the incestuous pair.' He paused. 'Look here,' he pointed, 'you see the female allegory of jealousy.'
McCabe decided not to disagree, tell him it was the oldfashioned interpretation, or tell him the painting was a reproduction.
'How did you do?' Angela said as they walked out of the villa and she closed the door.
'I'm making progress,' McCabe said.
She stopped and looked at him. 'What does that mean?'
'He's talking to me,' McCabe said. 'We discussed his art collection.'
'Did you ask for the money?'
'I did.'
'And?'
'He got mad.' 'What a surprise.'
'Then things were going good and I didn't want to blow i McCabe paused. 'But your father invited me to come back.' 'What do you mean?'
'He's getting a painting he wants to show me.' 'So you're going to give it another try, uh?' 'We'll see how it goes,' McCabe said.
.
