The Book of Spies

27

Rome, Italy
IT WAS three o'clock in the afternoon, the sun bright, almost overwhelming after the cold gray rain of London, when Eva walked through the centuries-old Monti section of Rome. Just south of Via Nazionale, Monti was an oasis of artists, writers, and the monied, and was seldom listed in tourist guides. Tall ivy-covered houses lined the street, interrupted only by cobblestone alleyways not much wider than a Roman chariot. Pedestrians strolled along the streets.
Clasping her shoulder satchel to her side, Eva risked a glance back. As expected, Judd was still several houses behind, looking Mediterranean in his sunglasses, swarthy face, and arched nose. They had stopped to buy new clothes so they would fit in with the warmer weather and locals' tastes. He wore a loose brown sports jacket, an open-necked blue shirt, and Italian jeans. She wore Italian jeans, too, with a green shirt and jacket.
As Fiats and scooters rushed by, she passed a leafy piazza filled with preschool children romping under the doting gazes of nannies. At last she crossed onto the busy street where Yitzhak Law lived.
AS HE followed Eva, Judd covertly scrutinized the bustling area, picking out the three-person team Tucker Andersen had sent to watch over Professor Law's home.
Across the street was one: a man with a cloth shopping sack, dressed in a worn business suit and sitting on a bench. A quarter block away was another--what appeared to be an elderly woman, sunk into a beach chair beneath a pepper tree outside a trattoria while she read the Italian daily La Repubblica. The third was a youthful skateboarder in sunglasses and a backpack. He slalomed lazily past, wearing earphones as his hips gyrated to music.
Judd used his mobile to call the skateboarder--the team leader. "Anything new, Bash?"
The unit had been in place an hour, not as long as he would have liked, but they'd had to be assembled from Catapult's undercover officers already on operations in and near Rome.
"Everything's cool, man. No one's gone in or left," Bash Badawi reported. He sailed his skateboard off the curb.
"Let me know if the situation changes."
Judd watched Eva moving ahead, her stride long and confident, her red hair blazing in the shimmering sunlight. He picked up his pace.
As he passed her, he said without moving his lips, "It's safe. Go in."
YITZHAK LAW'S house was a three-story building of aged yellow stone with large windows and white shutters. Eva ran up the worn steps and touched the bell. Chimes rang inside.
When the door opened, she smiled widely. "Buon giorno, Roberto." Roberto Cavaletti was Yitzhak's longtime partner.
"Do not just stand there, Eva. Come in, come in. I am delighted." He kissed her on both cheeks, his close-cropped brown beard prickling. Short and lean, he gave the appearance of a sleek fox, with a long, intelligent face and bright brown eyes.
"I've brought a friend," she warned.
She turned and nodded in Judd's direction. Glancing around, Judd was soon at her side, and they stepped into an entryway of antiques and paintings. The fragrant scents of a spicy tomato sauce lingered in the air. In Rome, lunch was traditionally the largest meal of the day and eaten between noon and three o'clock at home, which was why she had high hopes of finding Yitzhak here.
She introduced Judd as her traveling friend from America.
"Benvenuto, Judd. Welcome." Roberto shook his hand enthusiastically. "You are not jet-lagged? You do not look jet-lagged." It was an ongoing concern of Roberto's, who never traveled beyond the borders of Rome's time zone, despite Yitzhak's frequent invitations to accompany him.
"Not a speck of jet lag," Judd assured him.
Relieved, Roberto turned to Eva, put his hands on his hips, and scolded, "You have not kept in touch." With a single short sentence, he had covered the car crash, her guilty plea, and her imprisonment, at the same time letting her know as far as he was concerned they were still friends.
"You're right, and it's my fault. I loved the letter from you and Yitzhak." She had not trusted the compassion in the men's note, and so she had never answered it. With sudden clarity she saw how she had isolated herself.
"You are completely forgiven. Like the Pope, I am stern but magnanimous. Are you hungry? Would you like un caffe? It is dripping even now." In Rome, coffee was as important as wine.
"Coffee would be great," she said. "The way you always make it, molto caldo."
He smiled, acknowledging the compliment, and turned to Judd. "And you, Eva's friend?"
"Absolutely. Let us help you."
Roberto raised his brows at Eva. "He has good manners. I approve." Then he whispered in her ear, "And he's gorgeous." He pointed in the Italian way with an outstretched hand, palm down, toward the hallway, then he followed them.
As they passed open doors showing a sitting room and a small, elegant dining room, she asked, "Is Yitzhak home? We'd love to see him, too."
"Of course. And he will want to see you. You will take coffee to him. He is in his rifugio."
They went into the modern kitchen, which gleamed with enameled white walls and a stainless-steel refrigerator and gas stove. The aroma of fresh coffee infused the airy room. Roberto poured coffee into a carafe, then arranged cups, a cream pitcher, a sugar bowl, and spoons on a tray.
He indicated the tray. "It is your responsibility, Judd."
Judd picked it up. "Lead on."
Roberto took them out into the hall again and toward the back of the house, where a broad staircase rose two floors. But he opened the door beneath, the stairs showing simple wood steps going down. Cool air drifted up. They ducked their heads and descended into the cellar, which reflected the house's period in its rough brick walls and uneven brick floor.
In the center of the floor was the area's dominant feature--a ragged hole with wood steps, built only ten years before, going down into what seemed an abyss. Beside it lay a trapdoor of old bricks built on top of a plywood platform. The trapdoor was the exact dimensions of the hole, and when it was put into place, Eva knew, the bricks fit neatly into one another, hiding the hole.
Judd stared down and deadpanned, "Where are the flames? The screams of suffering souls?"
Roberto laughed. "This is not Dante's Inferno, my new friend. You are about to see a glorious sight few others have. But then, this is Rome, once the caput mundi, the capital of the world, teeming with more than a million souls while Paris and London were mere outposts of mud huts. No wonder we Romans are so proud. Here is where I leave you." He called down, "We have two more visitors, amore mio. Prepare yourself for a pleasant surprise."
"More visitors?" Judd's expression was curious, revealing nothing. The presence of outsiders would complicate their ability to find out quickly from Yitzhak what Charles's message meant.
Roberto nodded and said mysteriously, "Eva will be happy about it." He returned upstairs.
Eva had learned about the steep steps in previous visits. She turned and went down backwards, gripping the rail. Balancing the tray, Judd followed, and they entered the professor's private preserve.
It was a vast area, illuminated by torchere lamps and encompassing the width of the house. The length stretched from the rear garden to the street, where there appeared to be a small tunnel at the edge of a long pile of rubble. The flooring was glowing purple Phrygian marble. Placed here and there on it were statues of nudes uncovered during the excavation. Pink marble columns partially exposed--they were still mostly embedded in raw brown earth--shone palely. One wall was revealed; it was smooth, flat brickwork displaying the meticulous craftsmanship of builders two thousand years ago. Its centerpiece, which always made Eva's heart beat a little faster, was a stunning mosaic displaying Jupiter and Juno, king and queen of the Roman gods, reclining on thrones. Few had seen it since it was buried in antiquity.
She sensed Judd's awe, and then an instant return to acute awareness. His gaze swept the room, where Yitzhak sat with a man and a woman in wood chairs around an unvarnished wood table on which lay his notes and reading glasses. An American, the professor was a world-renowned scholar of medieval Greek and Roman history, with an emphasis on Judaism. He had published a dozen books on the subject.
Eva put a smile on her face, and all three stood up. The professor hurried toward her, arms outstretched. He was a small, slope-shouldered man who exuded the energetic optimism of a Rome native. His face and belly were round, his gaze sharp, and his head completely bald, shining in the light. In his early sixties, he was fifteen years older than Roberto.
"My dear, it's been far too long." He enveloped her in his arms.
"Much too long." She hugged him.
When he released her, she introduced him to Judd.
"You like my little sanctum sanctorum, Judd?" Yitzhak asked curiously. "It was once the domain of wealthy families in the Augustan era. Roberto saw some pottery shards beneath the cellar's bricks when we had to do some repair work, and that's how we discovered it."
Eva explained, "Ancient Rome is a buried city, lying under layers of history forty-five feet deep in places. What you're seeing is unusual--more than eighty percent is still uncovered."
Yitzhak said in a mock whisper, "Please don't tell on us, Judd. We private homeowners do our digging like thieves in the night because we don't want the Beni Culturali knocking on our doors to evict us. And they have a habit of doing just that, so they can make our little finds public." He gazed around, his eyes glowing. "The silence and seclusion make the distant past seem eerily tangible, don't they?"
"They do," Judd agreed as he set the coffee tray on the table. Then he said just what Yitzhak wanted to hear: "Your place is very beautiful."
The professor smiled broadly, his round face crinkling. "You must meet my other guests. This is Odile and Angelo Charbonier, in from Paris by way of Sardinia. We've had a delightful lunch. But then, why not? We're old friends. Such good old friends that Angelo's been buying and reading my books for years, emphasis on 'buying.' " He winked at Judd. "Who can ask more than that? Eva, I believe you already know the Charboniers."
Angelo pumped Judd's hand. "Delighted." His French accent was light.
A little more than six feet tall and in his late forties, Angelo looked fresh-faced and vigorous in his open-necked white shirt, beige jacket, and slacks. His face was chiseled in the way of European men who spent long hours in the gyms of their exclusive athletic clubs. Although he was a rich investment banker, Eva had always found him to be a down-to-earth and charming companion at the openings and dinner parties where they had met.
Eva could read nothing on Judd's smiling face as he responded, "It's good to meet you."
Always more reticent, Odile shook Judd's hand and said simply, "A pleasure."
"For me as well," Judd said.
A little younger than Angelo, Odile was quieter, with refined features and perfectly coiffed platinum-blond hair. She made a graceful athletic figure in her highly expensive velour jacket and trousers. At the same time, there was a steely quality about her that no doubt had been useful as Angelo and she had climbed high in Paris society through his business connections and her philanthropic work.
After exchanging pleasantries with Judd, Angelo turned to Eva. "I am sorry about Charles. Of course his death was a tragedy. Will you forgive me for saying whatever happened, it was also an accident and surely not your fault? Charles was a great man, and you are a great lady. Odile and I have always been fond of you."
He glanced at Odile, who gave a firm nod of agreement.
Odile shook Eva's hand. "Oh, cherie, we are simply too sorry for words."
Immediately, Angelo extended his hand, too. Touched, Eva took it. He pressed his lips against the back. When he looked up, he smiled into her eyes. "I'm glad you weren't badly injured in the car accident."
"Thank you, Angelo. Thank you, Odile. You're both very kind."
"Why didn't I know you were coming, Eva?" Yitzhak complained, appraising her. "We've heard nothing from you in a very long time."
"It's all my fault," she admitted. "I wasn't sure--"
"That we still adored you?" Yitzhak finished for her. "Silly girl. Of course we do."
"You will be interested to know Yitzhak and I were just talking about the Library of Gold," Angelo told her. "We missed the opening at the British Museum."
"Ah, The Book of Spies. What a find." Yitzhak bent over the table and picked up the carafe. "Who wants coffee?"
"Enjoy yourselves. I am going upstairs to ask Roberto for my usual aperitif," Odile said.
As she climbed the steps, Yitzhak added cream and sugar as requested, then handed the cups around. As the four stood together, Eva glanced at Judd, who had been covertly studying the Charboniers. He smiled at her over his cup as he drank. She could read nothing in his gray eyes.
"If only Charles were still alive so he could have attended the opening," the Frenchman said. "I am certain he would have given us another theory about the library's location. His theories were always very clever." He peered at Eva. "Were you able to go?"
"Yes. It was interesting, and The Book of Spies is fabulous."
"I'm envious." The professor sipped his coffee.
"What do you think Charles would have said?" Angelo asked curiously.
Before she could answer, Judd interrupted. "As a matter of fact, Charles did say something--in a way."
Surprised, Eva stared at him.
"Eva," he told her, "I think this is a good time to fill in the professor. No need to bore him with a long explanation. Just give him Charles's message."
Judd seemed to have decided it was safe to do so. Angelo Charbonier was a bibliophile, too, and perhaps he might be helpful--or was Judd testing the Frenchman in some way?
"It's something I discovered recently." Eva paused. "It was just your name, 'Law,' and the date of Charles's and my wedding anniversary in 2008--the one we spent with you and Roberto. Do you know why Charles would leave a message for me like that?"
The professor frowned, trying to remember. He rubbed his chin. At last he chuckled. "Of course. My old brain had nearly forgotten. Charles left a secret gift for you, Eva--or for an emissary if you sent one--but you had to ask for it and mention the anniversary date." He walked toward the ladder.
"It's here?" Eva asked, excited.
He turned, his eyes dancing. "Yes. Come with me. I'm eager to know what it is, too."