I put the card in my pocket and set off in the direction she had taken. Within two minutes I realized the old sod had slipped me. Furiously I searched for her high and low but finally chucked in the sponge. She had vanished.
I slumped exhausted on the Colonnade steps to wait till six-thirty. The old bag had shown an oddly consistent interest in me—particularly me—ever since I'd showed up.
There was something odd here. I felt pushed, manoeuvred. The same feeling, in fact, I'd had since first meeting Arcellano that day in the auction. Surely Anna had nothing to do with Arcellano?
I put my head on my knees and pretended to doze. The showy idiot who had been following me since about nine o'clock was now leaning against a pillar forty feet away.
He was on his umpteenth bottle of red wine and looked like a villain from bad rep theatre. He was about eighteen and had seen too many cheap movies. He terrified me so much I nodded off.
CHAPTER 9
'I saved your life, Enrico,' Anna said, wading into ninety square yards of pizza, a horrible sight. 'From Carlo.'
'Who the hell's Carlo?'
'Look back.'
We were walking at a slow pace away from the Angelo, the great circular castle by the Tiber. We had crossed the bridge and just turned left down the Coronali. A tangle of narrow streets was beginning, the kind I had yet to see in Rome. Anna was clearly at home here, never needing to check direction.
Behind us the youngish bloke was leaning against the wall of a barber's shop, cleaning his nails with a stiletto.
'That 1951 Bogart is yours, I take it?'
Anna cackled. 'That's Carlo. He wanted to spit you.'
'Good gracious,' I said politely.
'He's armed,' she said mischievously.
'His sort always is.'
She fell about at that. 'You're great. This way, Enrico.'
We dived to the right and started going slightly uphill. The streets were no more than alleys hereabouts. A lovely aroma pervaded my nostrils and I started to quiver.
Furniture varnish. Several small antique shops, of remarkable elegance for such a crummy-looking district, were dotted in the nooks and crannies of the cobbley labyrinth.
Carlo was following, three parts sloshed and weaving from side to side. You have to laugh.
'Visit the Vatican again?' she croaked as we trotted up the alley.
'Me? No. Why should I?'
She rolled in the aisles at this as well. I found myself getting narked at the old Jessie.
And the spectacle of her ravaged senile face smeared with grease did nothing for me, except make me heave.
'That's no answer.' She laughed so much I had to bang her shoulders to get her breathing again. As soon as her colour came back she assaulted her'pizza again. It was horrible. All she needed was some knitting and a guillotine. 'And you've been following me all day.'
The old gamp had me there. 'Actually, I'm strapped.'
'Broke, eh? Get dipped?'
I waited coldly for her paroxysm of hilarity to end. She had to hold on to the doorway of a small antiques shop to recover.
'Yes. By you, you old bitch. I want it back.'
'Me? What a terrible accusation!'
Her eyes were gleaming behind her specs. I turned for half a look.
Carlo was closing slowly, every inch real menace. Doubtless Anna had given him some signal because he held his knife hand at that loose angle which did not alter as he moved, a real giveaway.
Other than us the alley was empty. There was a small boozer further along and a couple of antique furniture shops and some place crammed with ecclesiastical vestments. I could see a preoccupied browser or two in one of the antique shops.
Somewhere nearby an electrical sander hummed. Maybe this was the right time and place.
I said, 'Hand it over, Anna. My money.'
'You try to riddle me? On my own doorstep? Brutto!'
I fetched her one then, only lightly because of her age, but enough to shut her mouth while I lifted her handbag from the basket. This goon Carlo was a real comic, hissing dramatically and narrowing his eyes as he came with his knife weaving sinister patterns in front of him. By then I was just too tired to bugger about. You can't blame me. I'd had a rotten two days.
I slid my left arm into the basket for a shield and gave him a double prod—the shield at his knife and my instep in his balls. My right knee caught under his chin as he oofed forward, then it was only a matter of kicking a couple of his ribs in while he slumbered gently on the cobbles.
Anna was staring in astonishment, holding her cheek as I teased out her money. I tossed her the handbag.
