The Dante Conspiracy

CHAPTER 26



The metal detector screamed as Perini and Lombardi walked into the palace, their pistols triggering the system quite unambiguously, but their identification documents smoothed the way. That, and the director of the establishment, Rudolf Massimo, who was waiting for them just inside the building, alerted by a telephone call Perini had made to him a few minutes before they set out.

Massimo led the way to his office on one of the upper floors of the building, asked the young girl who was presumably his secretary to bring coffee for the three of them, and then sat down behind his desk, the two detectives taking seats opposite him. He was about sixty, rake-thin, taller than both the detectives, virtually bald and clean-shaven. But it was his expression that struck Perini most forcefully. He looked worried, really worried. So worried that if the detective had been questioning him about some criminal act, his expression alone would be enough to propel him to the very top of the list of suspects.

‘So, Inspector, er, Perini,’ Massimo said when the coffee had arrived, clearing his throat. ‘We’ll be closing shortly for the day, so I hope this won’t take too long. I understand you want to take a look at our records. May I ask why?’

The way he asked the question gave Perini an inkling of what might be bothering the director. Maybe there was some irregularity in the finance or acquisition records of the Palazzo Pitti or something of that sort, and he was terrified that it had been discovered somehow. But if that was the case, Perini frankly wasn’t bothered. He had two linked murder cases to solve, and any possible irregularities in the operation or administration of a museum was of no consequence to him whatsoever. And he had another, personal, motive as well for what he was doing.

He repressed a smile and shook his head.

‘Not exactly, Signor Massimo, and certainly not your current or recent records. Our interest lies in very much older documentation. In fact, we want to look at anything you’ve got, any information at all, that dates from the fifteenth century.’

Almost immediately, Massimo’s face cleared, the worried frown disappearing as if it had never been there, to be replaced by a smile of relief.

‘Of course, inspector, of course. Most of our older records have already been scanned and loaded into our database, just because handling those ancient documents is not a good idea, and we prefer to keep them locked away in a climate-controlled storage area to preserve them. Though of course I can have any of them taken out should you need to see them,’ he added, somewhat hurriedly.

‘I’m quite sure that won’t be necessary,’ Perini replied. ‘It’s not the physical records we’re interested in, but only the information they contain. We need to see the message, not the medium, if you see what I mean.’

‘In that case, we probably don’t even need to leave this office, because I can access the entire database from here. Which part of the fifteenth century records do you want to look at? First half, second half?’

‘First half and, if my deduction is correct, the year 1421, though we’d better look five years or so either side of that date, just in case.’

‘So towards the end of the life of Giovanni di Bicci de’ Medici. You do know, I suppose, that at that time this building didn’t even exist?’

‘I certainly didn’t,’ Lombardi said. ‘I thought this was the home of the Medici family.’

‘It was, but it wasn’t quite that simple. The building of this structure was started in 1458 by a local banker named Arrigo Pitti, who of course gave his name to the palace, but he ran into financial problems in 1464 and work stopped. It was still unfinished when Pitti died in 1472. Around three quarters of a century later, in 1549, the building was purchased by Eleonora di Toledo, the wife of Cosimo de’ Medici. He had it more than doubled in size by the architect Vasari, who also constructed the Vasari Corridor, the elevated walkway that runs over the top of the Ponte Vecchio and links this building with the old seat of government and the Medicis’ original palace, the Palazzo Vecchio. That enabled members of the Medici family to move easily and quickly, and in perfect safety, from their home to the new palace, which they first used just as a lodging for their guests and for occasional official functions. It wasn’t until some time later that the family actually moved in, and later still before it became the permanent home for the extensive art collection owned by the Medicis.’

‘But presumably the family collection started with Giovanni?’ Perini asked.

‘Oh, yes,’ Massimo replied. ‘So are you interested in some object he purchased?’

‘Probably not. It was more likely something he was given.’

‘That’s a little more unusual, though certainly not unknown. Giovanni was a very important man in Florence even before he started his bank, and no doubt people who wished to curry favour with him plied him with gifts. What object have you in mind?’

‘That’s the trouble. We have no idea, but we believe it would have been given to Giovanni – or at least sent to him – in 1421, and whatever it was had most probably been created by Giotto, so it could possibly have been a painting.’

Massimo shook his head discouragingly.

‘We have a number of works by Giotto, but I don’t recall any paintings being purchased that year, and certainly none being donated. Let me just see what’s in the database.’

A few moments later he shook his head again.

‘No, there’s nothing like that for 1421, almost no records at all, in fact. Let me just look at the following year. No, only one painting recorded, and not by Giotto, and a wooden chest. That was a gift, in fact, but the identity of the benefactor wasn’t known. Or at least if it was known it wasn’t recorded.’

‘Tell me about that chest,’ Perini instructed, feeling a sudden quickening of his pulse.

‘There’s not a lot to say, really. It’s listed as a wooden chest with a plain exterior and a small painting on the inside of the lid. Oh, I hadn’t really noticed that before.’

‘What?’

‘The painting was signed “Giotto”, and that was accepted as being correct at the time, but there was some doubt later as to whether that was the right attribution. Just because the signature reads ‘Giotto’, that doesn’t mean he was the artist, obviously. Give me a moment while I look at this section which explains the various arguments.’

Masssimo was silent, reading the information displayed on the screen of his desktop computer.

‘Right,’ he said at last. ‘That seems clear enough. The consensus seems to be that the painting looks like the work of Giotto, in terms of style, the colours used, brush-strokes and so on: the fingerprints of the artist, if you like. But some doubts have crept in just because of the subject matter. The Pope for much of the time that Giotto was working was Boniface VIII, and he was a patron of Giotto, so you’d obviously expect Giotto to respect the views of the Vatican and paint mainly religious subjects, which he did in almost all of his other works. But apparently the painting on the inside of the lid of the chest shows the Pope in a less than favourable light, and that was enough to raise some questions.’

Massimo glanced across the desk at Perini.

‘I’m afraid the database entry doesn’t give any more information, so I can’t tell you exactly what is meant by that statement. So the obvious thing to do is to go and see the chest, I think.’

‘We’re right behind you,’ Lombardi said, putting down his coffee cup. ‘Lead the way.’

‘Not so fast, Cesare. There’s something else we need to sort out first.’ Perini looked back at Massimo. ‘Forget for the moment that we’re police officers, because as far as we’re concerned we went off duty the moment we walked in here. Now, we believe we might have discovered the location of a very valuable ancient relic, and that a further clue to its location is in or on that chest. I want you to write and sign a short statement saying that if our search does result in the discovery of this relic, we agree to hand it over to the Palazzo Pitti in return for a finder’s fee based on either the independently assessed value of the relic or the figure it achieves if it’s sold, whichever is the greater. We’re not greedy, and the fee we want is ten per cent, that’s all, just five per cent for each of us.’

‘That’s very irregular, inspector. I’m not sure that I can …’

‘Actually, I think you can, Rudolf,’ Lombardi interjected, ‘otherwise we might decide that it would be a good idea for us to take a look at all the records of recent transactions here, and maybe suggest that the Guardia di Finanza takes a look as well. I’m quite sure you wouldn’t want the Grey Ghosts prowling around this place, would you?’

Massimo’s face fell, the worried looking making an immediate comeback.

‘You’re in a win-win situation here,’ Perini said softly. ‘If we find nothing, we’ll tear up the agreement. If we find something, the Palazzo Pitti will get international publicity and have a magnificent exhibit you can either display or sell. And, as Cesare said, we’d hate to cause any problems here, but it does seem to us that something’s not quite right in this building, and we would be failing in our duty as police officers if we didn’t investigate it. A finder’s fee would give us just the right amount of joint amnesia.’

Massimo stared down at his desk for a moment. Then he looked up.

‘Ten per cent?’ he asked.

Perini nodded, and the director turned to his computer keyboard and typed something rapidly. Then he printed it and passed the sheet across the desk.

‘Is that satisfactory?’

Perini looked at the typed words carefully and nodded.

‘That’s just what we wanted,’ he said. ‘Two copies please, and sign them both. Then we can go and see if we’re right.’