He paused, tilted his head. 'Captain? What are you talking about, Lovejoy?' He waited. I tried not to glance again at the million miles of sand which stretched between the recess and me.
'You're a senior officer of the Vatican Security guard, Arcellano.'
'You're insane.'
'You thought up this rip to test the Vatican's security. On the quiet.' I let that sink in.
'So you had a grotty copy made of the Chippendale original. This is that copy.'
'So where's the real piece?'
'You have it stashed away.'
'And why should I go to all that trouble?'
I smiled, the thing I least felt like doing. 'If I succeeded in pulling the rip, you naturally assumed there'd be a gap left in the gallery's exhibits. Then you could put the real Chippendale back. Nobody would then know there'd been a rip at all.'
'And if you failed?'
'Then I'd be nabbed,' I said evenly. 'By you. Your men would have me in clink.'
'Doubtless telling tales, no?'
'Yes, but an improbable tale people would laugh at. You gave yourself away, Captain.'
'Really?' The bastard was too calm by far. I could feel his two goons smiling in the morning shadows behind me and tried not to look round, to concentrate on this murdering bastard who had now resumed his oh-so-casual stroll round the terrace towards my only escape route. 'Really, Lovejoy? How?'
'A clever geezer like you would naturally want to protect his interests, in case things went wrong,' I said. 'Captain Blood put an end to the straight-lift caper, nicking the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London in 1671. Substituting the dud showed your hand.'
'But why should I bother, Lovejoy?'
'Because you had the greatest prize of all in mind—a method, Captain. If I succeeded, you'd know how it could be done.'
He was smiling, the fucking swine, thinking he'd won. 'And you've given it to me, Lovejoy. A method which can be repeated times out of number.' He grinned. 'I'm indebted. Now I can drain the whole Vatican, item by item. I thank you. Sincerely.'
'But you murdered Marcello, Captain.'
'Well.' He spread his hands. 'He started asking around about Cardinal Arcellano.'
'That was my fault,' I cut in. 'I knew no other name for you except that. I should have realized as soon as Marcello sounded suddenly so different, full of urgency.'
'Silly of me to use the honoured Cardinal's name at that little auction. It seemed just a joke at the time.'
'It misfired, Captain. You had to kill Marcello because of it. Am I correct?'
'Near enough. But it's over, Lovejoy. Once that table's out of sight all your evidence has gone, right?'
'You've forgotten one thing, Captain.'
He snapped his fingers. The stockier of his gorillas stepped out of the terrace shadows.
A second appeared far over to my left. My exit run was now overlooked by them both.
Arcellano made some light quip to the goon, the pleasant way his sort do before knocking somebody off. He turned back to me, a picture of mayhem in classy suiting.
His voice was suddenly flint hard. 'If you mean payment, Lovejoy, you'll get paid—well paid.'
I said shakily, sweat stinging my eyes and my voice quavering, 'I don't mean that.
You're under arrest, Captain.'
It should have come out crisp as a western gunfighter's threat. It came out a feeble warble.
His famous non-smile was back. 'I'm… what?
'You heard, piss-head.'
A car droned by. It didn't stop. Yet this was the moment Russomanno and his Keystone Kops should have come bursting in with lovely protecting howitzers. There was silence.
A cat yawned extravagantly. Arcellano was glancing about swiftly. His two goons had reached inside their jackets. With innate skill they backed against the supporting pillars, fading from the daylight into shadow.
'Get him.'
I flung myself sideways, dropping to the ground, and was off, keening with fright. I ran like a stag down the narrow avenue of tall stones, hunched and babbling imprecations, begging for my life. Instinctively I weaved, ducking in and out among the colossal rectangles and scuffing the sand. If only I'd trained. Something plucked the air by my head, clipping stone chips from the masonry. My face stung. A bang, echoing. I heard Arcellano screaming instructions. I could hear footsteps along the terrace.
Frantic now, I cringed behind an upright slab as a piece of stone exploded at eye level ahead of me. Three cracks sounded. More stone chips. I moaned in terror. The bastards were everywhere. It was all wrong.
Arcellano should have come down to this level so I could imprison him by my ingenious falling block in that recess up ahead, for the police to arrest at leisure. I ducked into view, saw Arcellano on the terrace, hurled myself back into cover. Two more gunshots, one from behind and to the side. My leg went funny. Bleating with terror I tottered forward, weaving among the standing stones as fast as my sudden limp would allow. I whined, 'Please, please…'
