The Chief Inspector left, closing the door behind him. Friday was still shaking, although she was no longer sure if it was from nerves or shock. She turned to the governor of the Uffizi. It occurred to Friday it was odd that she would want to speak to her alone.

‘I’d like to offer you a job,’ said Governor Offredi.

‘What?’ said Friday. Then she remembered her manners, ‘I mean. I beg your pardon?’

‘I am not really the governor of the Uffizi,’ said the governor.

‘You’re not?’ asked Friday.

‘No, I’m the Chief Investigator in the arts and antiquities unit of Interpol,’ said the governor. ‘Crime in this area is rife across Europe, and indeed the world, as criminals seek to move money about in the form of artefacts.’

‘I know,’ said Friday. ‘I read the papers.’

‘I know you do,’ said the governor. ‘You have subscriptions to major daily papers in five different languages. We’ve been watching you.’

‘You have! Why?’ asked Friday.

‘We want to offer you a job,’ said the governor. ‘A fifteen-year-old girl, with a criminal record. No one would suspect you of working for us.’

Friday glanced out the window at Ian and Melanie. She didn’t want this. She just wanted to be normal again.

‘I’ve had enough excitement,’ said Friday. ‘I just want to go back to school with my friends.’

‘You can do both,’ said the governor. ‘Your friend already works for us.’

‘Melanie?’ asked Friday.

‘No, although I’m considering taking her on,’ said the governor. ‘Her language skills are excellent. Her ability to tell if someone is lying would be invaluable. And I’ve read a report that she is incredibly gifted as archery. That’s got to be useful.’

‘Then . . .?’ began Friday.

‘Ian,’ said the governor. ‘He’s been working with us since he came to Italy. He has been a great asset. A sixteen-year-old with a conman for a father and a chip on his shoulder. It is an excellent cover story.’

Friday looked through the window at Ian. He was so good looking and charming. It all made complete sense. Ian was Uncle Bernie’s informant on the dark web. The inside operative spying on the antiquities underworld. Ian. Her Ian. The boy who had kissed her in the back of a horse drawn carriage while they were serenaded with opera. This was all too much even for her massive brain to comprehend.

‘Come and join him, and me, in investigating real crime here in Europe,’ urged the governor. ‘What do you say?’

Friday did not even respond. She was looking through the glass partition at Ian. Without saying a word she got up and stepped out of the office.

Ian looked up.

‘Were you only going out with Tatiana because you had to?’ she asked.

Ian nodded ever so slightly.

‘You let her into the Uffizi that night to entrap her?’ said Friday. Although it wasn’t really a question. She knew the answer.

‘I was trying to get her to trust me,’ said Ian. ‘By showing I would break the rules.’

Friday walked across the office. Ian stood up as she approached, bracing for some sort of impact.

Friday grabbed a hold of him and kissed him.

It was a really good kiss. She was getting the hang of kissing.

When she let go, Ian looked a little bewildered.

‘I just want you to know,’ said Friday. ‘I really hate you.’

‘I know,’ said Ian. Then he kissed her back.

 

To be continued . . .