Isabel Consuela Manzini lived with a small army of servants and bodyguards at her estate in Terrasini. She had a number of friends with whom she socialized extravagantly, for otherwise she would have no friends at all; but she did not have a lover.
At her estates in Spain, Germany, and America, the cadre of servants and pampered friends were smaller, more discreet, but the number and quality of bodyguards remained as at her Italian estate, and so, unfortunately, did the lack of lovers. Still a virgin at age 63, she was resigned to a childless existence but was determined to the point of near insanity to have a lover, if just for one night. Not even the prospect of becoming a billionaire, or the undisputed majority owner of La Mar Victoire, loomed as large in her heart as the prospect of being romantically raped.
The man of her dreams was Tony Bertolucci.
In the mind of Sanguineus, Manzini and Bertolucci were inseparable. At breakfast he considered that Bertolucci was five-nine, while he himself was six-three. The difference was too large a discrepancy for imposture. He was glad of it. He turned his thoughts to the tool kit that came with the rented motorcycle, and smiled as he finished his meal. It was a simple solution. He had two things to thank for that: the repressed lust of Isabel Consuela Manzini and her attachment to amorous seascapes.
Giorgio Vicenti spent Thursday afternoon at his office in Naples. It was a strategy meeting in the highrise that afforded such a pleasant view of the coast on that perfect spring day. His fear of an attempted takeover by his step-sister, or the alternative, which amounted to blackmail, was confirmed by his advisors. He took the news calmly, of course. He wasn't concerned by the surprised reaction of the advisors, who had expected an eloquent wrath. It didn't matter. He showed his teeth in a smile.
Red Rum assured him that liquidations were managed in a way best suited to the circumstances. Giorgio was confident that the murder of Isabel would arouse no suspicion of any significance, nothing that would tie him in with the burglary, or accident, or whatever the means were to be. He looked forward to having a good look at the 'operative,' which he felt would solidify his confidence.
He had dinner with his new mistress on the private flight back to Palermo, a thirty-something woman named Tanya, who worked as an accounts receivable for a company that made tools. She was an aggressive, very extroverted redhead who preferred dark green outfits and blood-red lipstick. She was tall and slim and had a talent for the sexy dramatic pose. She styled her hair short, with bangs covering one eye, bangs that smelled of the herbal cigarettes she smoked when assuming a leonine pose. Giorgio was crazy about her. He had met her just three days before, and was so crazy about her that he had not yet considered how to keep his relationship with her secret from his wife.
"I am so bored with my job," was Tanya's mantra. Often she winked at him when she said it. She was in the first week of a month-long vacation, so it was a simple thing for Giorgio to rent a villa for her at Palermo. That he would find her a lucrative position in his shipping line was a foregone conclusion.
At eight o'clock Professor Rolgo phoned Giorgio Vicenti to confirm that a Mr Cruor from New York would be arriving in one hour, at the specified location. Giorgio, baring his teeth to the telephone in his study, said a curt thank you and hung up. He felt that everything had fallen into place nicely. His wife was at her Thursday night bridge game with the Mussolinis in their Viale Diana mansion, close but far enough away so that he would have time to spirit away the assassin should Signora Vicenti decide to end her game earlier than usual. The odds were that she would not be home until well after midnight; time to meet with the mysterious operative and to have a very pleasant interlude with Tanya, there, in his well-appointed study.
It was understood that Tanya Wilde was to remain in the study while Giorgio met with a 'contractor' in the library of the house, to discuss a remodeling project; she quite agreed and would amuse herself with his collection of miniature ships. But though she found the collection interesting, when nine o'clock came and Giorgio crossed to the library door, Tanya busied herself with putting a phone bud in her ear and a tablet on her lap, waiting for the soft static in the bud to alert her to the fact that Sanguineus had activated his customized Bluetooth wire. She imagined it secreted in a wristwatch, as was usually the case.
She smoked, waiting anxiously for the static. When at last she heard it, she said, "Is there an event?"
Sanguineus' voice, distant and hollow in her ear, said, "Yes, that is true," obviously in response to something Giorgio had asked. But it was an affirmative to her own question. She poised her thumbs above the tablet keypad and waited for the next word or phrase from Sanguineus. She had no idea what it might be. It could be anything, from the simplest request to the most challenging. In any case, she would have to define the request accurately, since it was possible that she would not have a second chance to get it right.
"I admire the style of your glasses," she heard Sanguineus say, "I should like to have a pair."
So that was it, Tanya thought. She could not be positive, but it was a pair of Giorgio's glasses that she was to steal and then deliver to Sanguineus at the Provincial Hotel as soon as it was practical to do so.
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