Naples, the last days of spring, 21:15
We arrived right on time. During the flight I had decided to reveal to Andrea why Hašek had wanted to meet me. Obviously, she hadn’t taken it well.
“That might be the motive for the murder, Lorenzo, didn’t you realise that? You’ve hidden evidence from the police. This is serious.”
“I know, Andrea. It was wrong of me, but… I was just overwhelmed by everything that happened in those twenty-four hours.”
Andrea shook her head and frowned. “I must inform Lisáček of this – it’s possible that the murder wasn’t just some robbery that went wrong with art traffickers trying to get Hašek’s manuscript and him refusing to give it to them.”
“Please, be discreet in the report that you give Lisáček. Riccardo acted with the best intentions. It’s not simply a precious manuscript – there is something hidden in those pages…”
The policewoman sighed. “Lorenzo, I believe you and you seem like an honest person, but I have to put Lisáček in a position to be able to follow the right trail. I’ll do my best, but try to co-operate, don’t keep anything else from us.”
Before leaving I had told Àrtemis not to worry about picking us up, I’d get a taxi. Predictably, she hadn’t listened to me: jealous as she was, I was sure she wanted to get a look at the Interpol inspector. And there was another surprise waiting for us at the airport.
“Alex!”
Alessandro Aragona, or Alex as he we called him. My brother. A bachelor and hopeless womaniser who, when he wasn’t travelling around the world for work, lived in a sixteenth-century villa in Tuscany. Together with a couple of friends, he had started a company called ArtAround which organised events, and in the space of a few years it had gone international. Their motto was: If we didn’t organise the event, it’s not an event.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, hugging him. I hadn’t seen him for months.
“Taking you home so you won’t get into any more trouble – I can never be sure with you.”
Typical of Alex to respond in this way – he was able to bring me back down to earth in a matter of seconds without even trying. As I should have expected, a moment later his attention was drawn to Andrea, upon whom he was evidently preparing to unleash his entire Latin lover repertoire.
“Well, well, well, what have we here…?” he said, eyeing her up and down and offering his hand.
The girl nipped his advances in the bud and, speaking Italian with an eastern European accent, accompanied by her usual friendly smile, said, “Inspector Andrea Kominkova, Interpol.”
Alex immediately calmed down and gave her a warm handshake. “Erm, welcome to Naples… Inspector. I’m Alex Aragona and if you need anything – anything at all – I am at your disposal.”
She squeezed his hand in return and her smile broadened – she was clearly amused by Alex and his attempt to charm her. She let her hair fall across her forehead, mesmerising my brother, and said, “You can call me Andrea.”
“Don’t take any notice of my brother, Andrea,” I said, nudging Alex. “He can go a bit over the top, but he’s nice. Too nice, sometimes.”
My wife came forward to introduce herself. Her cascade of black curls I adored so swayed on her shoulders. “Àrtemis Nicopolidis Aragona, very pleased to meet you, Inspector,” she said, holding out her hand to Andrea and smiling.
“The pleasure is mine, Àrtemis. Your husband has told me about your fascinating studies,” said Andrea.
Àrtemis raised her eyebrows and sighed. “Fascinating but almost useless. It seems that the language and culture of those who lived thousands of years ago is of interest to only a few people nowadays. Wikipedia is all you need to fill a brain nowadays, apparently.”
After we had concluded the pleasantries we got into the car and, with Alex at the wheel, set off for home. I proceeded to book a room for Andrea in a bed & breakfast near my house, the guest room at Palazzo Aragona being already occupied by my in-laws. While we were on the freeway, I brought my wife and my brother up to date on all that had happened in the last thirty-six hours.
“I can’t believe it,” cried Àrtemis, as soon as I had finished, “and all in one day! You’re incorrigible, Lorenzo! You’d better stop going away – every time you do, something happens.”
“Your wife is right, you should take it easy for a while,” Alex interjected. “You attract bad luck.”
“It would be pointless – you know that trouble would follow me right to my own doorstep.”
Àrtemis was sitting in the back seat next to Andrea. I lowered the sun visor, flicked open the mirror and gave her a quick look. I saw her black curls swinging nervously as she shook her head. My sweet, combative Àrtemis: a brilliant teacher of languages and ancient Greek literature at the University Federico II, she had always been the rational one, and yet when, in the past, she’d had to follow me on some absurd treasure hunt, she’d never held me back. I trembled at the very idea of losing her. Not long before, the most awful of diseases had threatened to take her from me, and for an instant my mind went back to those dark days and my heart sank. It was only thanks to a medical genius that I had managed to save her, and from that day on every time something even slightly dangerous happened I felt compelled to protect her.
“Anyway,” I continued, interrupting the flow of memories, “Andrea should get in touch with her Neapolitan colleagues. Tomorrow morning I will accompany her to police headquarters… And by the way, Andrea, have they told you who you’ll be working with here in Naples?”
The girl nodded. “Yes – Interpol HQ in Rome has put me in touch with Commissioner Franchi and his team.”
I turned round, looked at Àrtemis and smiled. Andrea and I had not yet discussed that detail and it was a pleasant surprise for me to hear his name.
“Oscar Franchi?” I asked, smiling at her.
Andrea cocked her head to one side, amazed, looking first at Àrtemis then at me. “Yep. Do you know him?”
I turned back to watch the road. The bulk of Castel Sant’Elmo appeared on our left. We were almost home.
“Well enough, Andrea. Well enough.”