'One of the 450 citizens of the Stato della Citta del Vaticano. All except sixty are in Holy Orders—and you obviously are not, Lovejoy. There are nearly fifteen hundred Vatican employees, and nearly two thousand functionaries and diplomatic hangers-on. They can go in to shop at the Anona supermarket and the liquor store—as long as they remember to bring their ration cards and special personal passes. There was once a black market, you see?' She pulled small slivers from her mouth. Immediately her face filled out. Years dropped off her. It was miraculous. 'We Romans joke that SCV means
“Se Cristo Vedesse”! If Christ were to see…
This catalogue of security was getting me down. A bigger shock was seeing her catch at her temple and simply sweep off her wispy hair, shaking out dark lustrous waves almost to her shoulders. I hand it to her: she was a real artist. The pads and teeth caps she placed in a coloured solution. The wig was instantly brushed and hung on a wicker stand. Her eyes caught mine mischievously.
'There are four ways in, Lovejoy. The main Museum entrance, from the street. Museum guards. Then the Cancello di Sant' Anna, St Anne's gate where we met—leading into the walled-in courtyards for the barracks, the Osservatore Romano offices, the whole service area. Swiss Guards, there. Then the two entrances near the front of St Peter's itself, the Portone di Bronzo for papal audiences, also Swiss Guard. And last the Arco delle Campane.'
I knew the giant bronze door. The Arch of Bells has two flamboyantly dressed Guards with halberds. Anna caught me drawing breath.
'No, Lovejoy. There are two more Swiss Guards just inside. Marksmen with guns.' She started creaming her face, a mask of slithery white. Jesus, but Max Factor has a lot to answer for. 'You look put down.' Only her eyes and mouth were showing as she turned on me. 'Look, Lovejoy. I saw you case the Vatican. I've seen it done by experts— real experts, not a bum like you, wet behind the ears. And they all missed out.'
'What's it to you?'
She swung on me then, youthful eyes shining. 'It's never been done—that's what it is to me, Lovejoy! Never. Oh, an army or two have pillaged Rome now and then. But no one living man.'
Light dawned. I stared at her. 'And you…?'
'Why do you think I've worked the Vatican geese for two years?' Her blazing eyes softened into rapture and she gave me a blasphemous blessing. 'I dream of the rip, Lovejoy,' she purred, looking past me into some paradise of her own creation. 'I've schemed and waited. And now you've come, Lovejoy. A man with the same dream. We can do it. I know we can.'
'Me…' wishing I didn't have to say it “… and you?'
'Don't make me sound like a penance, cretino!' She began smoothing cream off with tissues. 'You need me. Together we succeed. Alone, you sleep in the Castel Sant'
Angelo garden.'
So she knew about that, too. She rose abruptly and flung a leg on to the chair, peeling a stretch stocking. Varicosities were clearly painted on the inside. I'd already seen her black buttonstrap shoes and their crafted supports, real works of art. She donned a shabby dressing-gown. 'Don't overestimate me, Lovejoy. I've no private army. Fine, I make a living, though the Mafia don't lose any sleep. But I'm good. You've seen me.
We're ideal.'
She went to shower while I lay back and looked at the ceiling. I now had a job which provided sufficient cover, and an ally whose only fault was that she happened to be the best con artist on the streets. And a place to stay, providing I accepted her as a partner. And a workshop where I could make the Chippendale replica, which I desperately needed for the rip.
As a lurk it wasn't so bad. Maybe it was as good as any I could hope for. And the rip was my one sure way of getting to Arcellano. I should have been quite content, but I don't like coincidences. And for the only two people in the world planning separate Vatican rips to finish up living in the same room was too much of a coincidence for me.
By a mile.
CHAPTER 15
The next three days I worked like a dog, had a terrible row with Fabio and a worse one with Anna, and nearly killed the bloke who was following me. At least, I think I nearly killed him. I may have done worse, but I'm not going back to find out.
I explained the barest essentials.
'Just a single table?' she had asked incredulously.
I'd told her yes, then lied like a trooper. 'I go for systems, not singles.'
'Explain, Lovejoy,' she demanded.
A gleam in Anna's eye told me she'd developed that basic mistrust so natural to all womankind. I tried to speak with a sneer. 'Tell me this.' I strode about the room belligerently, Marlborough on campaign. 'What is the perfect rip, eh? Ever thought?'
'Where you get clean away.' She was fascinated, but doubtful.
I was emphatic. 'No, love. The perfect rip's the undetected rip. And why?' I paused to poke a finger towards her. She was all gleaming from the shower and sat mesmerized by my act. 'Because you can do it again. And again. And —'
'— And again!' she breathed.
'Right! You have a system. See?'
'System, not singles!' She was radiant. 'Lovejoy,' she murmured, 'that's beautiful.'
We shook on it. I saw from her manner that she had taken a deep decision.
