Small and untidy, a faded red carpet, daylight barely penetrating through windows unwashed for years, and posters of Italy hanging half-heartedly on the papered walls. A small Virgin Mary blessed the television in the corner.
‘Okay, Tellus, how can I help?’ The smile on Gianni’s face had dissolved, his eyes sharpening, his full attention on Conrad. Even his accent changed from broad Italian-American to a clipped but still accented English.
Conrad glanced at his watch. ‘You’ll be getting a party in to dine in about an hour and a half. One of them is going to ask for the bathroom but come up here.’
Gianni nodded.
‘Can I use your commsline while we’re waiting?’
Gianni went to his cluttered desk, selected a stick from several in a dusty plastic cup and handed it to Conrad, who inserted it into a slim silver netbook. A bunch of vacation photos came up on the screen with toothsome children and wholesome mom and pop. Conrad selected one of two laughing children on a beach, zoomed in to pixel level, copied a line of them and then the photo disappeared. He pasted the pixels into the password box and dialled.
Waiting for the encrypted connection, he said, presumably to me but looking at the computer screen, ‘You’re safe here. We’re going to find out who these people are and what we have to do to protect you. Go and sit down near the window, but don’t let yourself be seen.’
Gianni brought warm panini, a jug of water and glasses, then left us to it. After we’d eaten, Conrad hunched in front of the screen again, sometimes talking to somebody, sometimes tapping on the keyboard but saying nothing. I figured he was still miffed with me. I ignored him and flicked through the Italian computer magazines stacked up by the desk, pretending I could understand them. I closed my eyes for a few moments and pretended to doze.
An hour later, a redhead wearing a dull purple coat, with black plastic spectacles masking her face, stood in the doorway. I heard voices filtering up the stairs along with the smell of cooking. She closed them out as she shut the door.
‘Tellus.’
‘Sergia.’
She looked at Conrad as if he was nothing but trouble, glanced in my direction then ignored me. She took a step towards Conrad and started talking at him in fast Latin. From her tight, hard face and aggressive tone, I could see she was sounding off about something. Conrad answered her as robustly, but I didn’t have a clue what they were saying. He must have seen my puzzlement and switched into English.
‘I understand your frustration at being hauled back from Mexico so suddenly, but this is more important.’
‘You’re out of your mind.’ After a short pause, she said, ‘Declined,’ with a sour tone of finality that sounded like a ten-foot thick bank safe door shutting. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here anyway – you’re not active.’
‘You can’t refuse.’
‘Oh, really? You supply the paperwork; then I’ll consider it.’ She made her way to the door, but Conrad got there first and blocked her.
‘Enough! I’m only going through you out of courtesy. It’s an executive order. Your role is to organise it.’
She hung in there. ‘I’m not risking my career on the word of some jumped-up imperial playboy!’
He paled but kept his voice steady. ‘Perhaps you’ll accept the instruction from the chancellor, or shall we go right to the top? You might like to explain to the imperatrix, and Countess Mitela, exactly what your reasons are for refusing your assistance. I wouldn’t like to be in your sandals when you do.’
He dialled again. As the LEDs flashed, she stared down at the monitor, her mouth turned down and a scowl on her face. I wasn’t sure what was happening here, but it sounded like a turf war.
The screen changed, revealing a woman in a business suit.
‘Good evening. Conradus Tellus for Quintus Tellus, please.’
‘Hello, Conradus, what can I do for you?’ A genial, bearded face
‘Okay, Tellus, how can I help?’ The smile on Gianni’s face had dissolved, his eyes sharpening, his full attention on Conrad. Even his accent changed from broad Italian-American to a clipped but still accented English.
Conrad glanced at his watch. ‘You’ll be getting a party in to dine in about an hour and a half. One of them is going to ask for the bathroom but come up here.’
Gianni nodded.
‘Can I use your commsline while we’re waiting?’
Gianni went to his cluttered desk, selected a stick from several in a dusty plastic cup and handed it to Conrad, who inserted it into a slim silver netbook. A bunch of vacation photos came up on the screen with toothsome children and wholesome mom and pop. Conrad selected one of two laughing children on a beach, zoomed in to pixel level, copied a line of them and then the photo disappeared. He pasted the pixels into the password box and dialled.
Waiting for the encrypted connection, he said, presumably to me but looking at the computer screen, ‘You’re safe here. We’re going to find out who these people are and what we have to do to protect you. Go and sit down near the window, but don’t let yourself be seen.’
Gianni brought warm panini, a jug of water and glasses, then left us to it. After we’d eaten, Conrad hunched in front of the screen again, sometimes talking to somebody, sometimes tapping on the keyboard but saying nothing. I figured he was still miffed with me. I ignored him and flicked through the Italian computer magazines stacked up by the desk, pretending I could understand them. I closed my eyes for a few moments and pretended to doze.
An hour later, a redhead wearing a dull purple coat, with black plastic spectacles masking her face, stood in the doorway. I heard voices filtering up the stairs along with the smell of cooking. She closed them out as she shut the door.
‘Tellus.’
‘Sergia.’
She looked at Conrad as if he was nothing but trouble, glanced in my direction then ignored me. She took a step towards Conrad and started talking at him in fast Latin. From her tight, hard face and aggressive tone, I could see she was sounding off about something. Conrad answered her as robustly, but I didn’t have a clue what they were saying. He must have seen my puzzlement and switched into English.
‘I understand your frustration at being hauled back from Mexico so suddenly, but this is more important.’
‘You’re out of your mind.’ After a short pause, she said, ‘Declined,’ with a sour tone of finality that sounded like a ten-foot thick bank safe door shutting. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here anyway – you’re not active.’
‘You can’t refuse.’
‘Oh, really? You supply the paperwork; then I’ll consider it.’ She made her way to the door, but Conrad got there first and blocked her.
‘Enough! I’m only going through you out of courtesy. It’s an executive order. Your role is to organise it.’
She hung in there. ‘I’m not risking my career on the word of some jumped-up imperial playboy!’
He paled but kept his voice steady. ‘Perhaps you’ll accept the instruction from the chancellor, or shall we go right to the top? You might like to explain to the imperatrix, and Countess Mitela, exactly what your reasons are for refusing your assistance. I wouldn’t like to be in your sandals when you do.’
He dialled again. As the LEDs flashed, she stared down at the monitor, her mouth turned down and a scowl on her face. I wasn’t sure what was happening here, but it sounded like a turf war.
The screen changed, revealing a woman in a business suit.
‘Good evening. Conradus Tellus for Quintus Tellus, please.’
‘Hello, Conradus, what can I do for you?’ A genial, bearded face
Similar Books
