'Come on, bud,'' he said.
Don went into the passage. Carlos followed and closed the door. The two wolf-hounds got to their feet, their ears pricked.
'The boss'll see you now,' Carlos said. 'Watch your step with him: he's another guy who can get tricky if anyone treads on his toes.'
'What a fascinating bunch of crackpots you seem to house here,' Don said.
Carlos laughed.
'Boy! you never said a truer word.'
He led the way down the corridor. He paused outside a massive steel door, touched a rubber-headed button on the wall and waited. After a few moment's delay the door swung open. Facing them was a flight of stone steps that led upwards.
Carlos stood aside.
'Go on up, bud.'
Don mounted the steps. He counted them as he climbed. When he reached the thirty-second step, he came to another steel door.
Carlos came up behind him, pressed on another rubber-headed button.
'I've got Micklem here, boss,' he said.
Don saw then the negro was speaking into a microphone let into the wall. A moment later the door swung inwards and Carlos gave him a little push forward. He walked into a large, airy, luxuriously furnished room. The sun came in through the big open casement windows. Beyond the open windows, Don could see the wide terrace and stretching away into the distance file ornamental garden with its flowering shrubs, conifers and cypress trees. It was a tempting sight, and for a very brief moment, he had to resist the urge to dart forward and through the casement windows to the garden below, but the dogs, as if anticipating such a move, brushed past him and went out on to the terrace where they lay down in the sun, blocking the exit. Simon Alsconi, wearing a fawn linen coat, sat in his padded chair. The Persian cat lay on his lap; its blue eyes stared at Don with inquisitive insolence. The sun caught the sparkle of a large diamond on Alsconi's little finger as he waved his hand towards a chair opposite him.
'Come in, Mr Micklem,' he said. 'This is a great and unexpected pleasure. Forgive me for not getting up. You see I am encumbered by Balthazar. We must, I feel, always show consideration to the feelings of animals. Please sit in that chair where we can see each other in comfort.'
Don crossed the room and sat down in the big lounging chair. He looked at Alsconi with interest. Was he the Tortoise?
he wondered. He looked harmless enough - or did he? There was something odd about his eyes perhaps. Don was puzzled for a moment why Alsconi's eyes should strike him as odd, then he realized they were flat like the eyes of a snake: flat, glassy and as dark and as expressionless as pools of Indian ink. A door opened at the far end of the room and a short, stocky Italian in a white mess jacket came in carrying a tray. He set the tray down on a table between Alsconi and Don, poured out two cups of coffee and then silently left the room.
'You must need some coffee, Mr Micklem,' Alsconi said. 'We have had rather a busy morning, and I am afraid we have neglected you. Help yourself to a cigarette too.'
Don wanted the coffee badly and he didn't hesitate to accept the invitation.
Carlos was standing by the window, watching him, and Alsconi waved him away.
'I'll ring when I want you, Carlos,' he said.
The negro went out on to the terrace. The two wolf-hounds edged forward. They stared through the open casement doors at Don, their eyes watchful and alert.
Don looked into the big hearth before the empty fireplace. His eyes alighted on a heavy steel poker. He would have.to get to his feet and take two quick steps forward to grab it. He would have time to do it before the dogs reached him. He had no doubt he could settle the dogs before they could do him much damage, but what then? How far away was Carlos? Were the four guards with their automatic rifles still in the garden? Even if he laid out the dogs, knocked this fat, smiling Italian over the head and reached the garden, he would still have over a thousand yards of lawn and shrubbery to negotiate before he reached the fifteen-foot high wall. There would be no Harry waiting for him to swing him to the top. By then the other two dogs would be after him. He reluctantly decided the chances of failure were too great.
Alsconi who had been watching him said, 'Very sensible of you, Mr Micklem. For a moment I feared you were going to give way to an impulse. That poker is tempting. One of my other visitors attempted to make use of it. Jacopo who sits behind that tapestry on the wall - a really splendid example of the best Florentine work, don't you think? - had no alternative but to shoot him.' The white fingers fondled the cat's head. 'Enjoy your coffee; have a cigarette, but please don't do anything foolish.'
Don lit a cigarette. He looked over at the tapestry on the wall facing him. Then he shrugged.
'Are you the man who arranged Guido Ferenci's death?' he asked quietly.
Alsconi smiled.
'I suppose you might say I was indirectly responsible. I have people who attend to the details of my organization.
Perhaps I had better introduce myself. My name is Simon Alsconi. I am the last surviving male member of the Vaga family. I understand you have been investigating our sad history.'
'The police are investigating it too,' Don said.
Alsconi chuckled.
'I have been disappointed that they have taken so long to discover the connection. No doubt you gave them the clue. I have never made any secret of my connection with the Vaga family. In actual fact this palazzo is built on the original site of the Vaga home. My mother was the last of the women Vagas. But your discovery is of no value either
