Tanya had said, "Exhaust me."
The lunch that Sanguineus ordered was brought to the door while Tanya still lay asleep, the damp sheet tangled between and around her bruised legs; her mouth open and breathing in shallow gasps, her short hair like a discarded handful of red silk sticking to scalp and pillow; her neck and shoulders purpled with bite marks, a streak of dried blood on her chin and throat. To see her like that, abused by a cruel ecstasy, roused the assassin's appetite.
On the table by the sunny curtains were the contents of a portfolio. Sanguineus ate his lasagna and garlic sticks as he contemplated all that was known of the personalities, skills, and duties of the five bodyguards assigned to Isabel Consuela Manzini. There was one thing he was not certain of, and that was Isabel's habit as regarded her walks to the bluff. He required precise information. An hour earlier he had phoned 'Universal Tools' and requested extension 13-888. He had explained his need to Rolgo couched in cryptic terms. The professor, who was preparing an exam paper for Political Theory class at the Evangelista Giovanni Di Cortu, promised to have the required informant brought to the Provincial by nightfall.
Sanguineus showered, dressed as he had that morning, and left a note on the lampstand, for Tanya. Ten minutes later he was driving his rented Peugeot to the ferry landing.
When the 4pm ferry from Naples arrived, a young man with a whiskery rat-face came out from the crowd of passengers and rows of cars carrying a tennis racket case and a large paper sack. He spotted a tall man wearing a black fedora and shades, standing to one side of the ticket booth. With some hesitation he walked up to him. "I am looking for a Signor Ricklen Cruor."
"What is in the sack?"
"My dinner. The prices here are so much higher than on the mainland."
"Will twenty-five thousand lire help to balance things out?"
The young man grinned. "I am grossly underpaid, you know."
"Aren't we all," said Sanguineus, taking the tennis racket case and handing the young man a yellow envelope.
When he returned to the hotel at 6pm a middle-aged woman of Greek descent was sitting in a chair at the table with a rush handbag in her lap. She wore a white paisley scarf over her greying hair and a long woolen sweater over her drab smock. She had been talking to Tanya Wilde. The assistant operative was lounging on the bed with a neglected magazine open on one thigh and a cigarette in a limp-wristed hand that smelled like roasting chestnuts. She winked at Sanguineus, meaning he should notice that she wore his bathrobe.
He introduced himself to the informant as Signor Cruor of Interpol, showing her his identification. She confirmed herself as Agnes Sarkos, a housekeeper in the employ of Signora Manzini. In regards to Tanya, Sanguineus said, as he set the case upright against the chest-of-drawers, "She is my understudy," at which vague statement Agnes smiled coyly.
Sanguineus asked to know about the walking habits of the Signora, which Agnes had been paid to determine. The pay was substantial. She had been told to keep the money in her possession until after the investigation. At first she had questioned why, but quickly acquiesced when her contact offered her a bonus if she did what she was told, efficiently and with alacrity. There was no time for questions. The investigation had to be concluded within a week. And so Agnes found excuses to be outdoors, along the front of the property, usually engaging a gardener in small talk, when the Signora took her daily walks to the bluffs. They were visible from the gates.
Concluding the talk, Sanguineus got up from his chair. Tanya was at his side so quickly, and with such a pleading look in her pinkening face, that he paused with a hand at his waistband, under his coat, at the lower curve of his back.
"Allow me," she whispered, on tiptoe, the bathrobe parting seductively. "After all, you called me your understudy."
"I see no necessity for your direct involvement," Sanguineus said coldly, and drew his muffled .22 Beretta. "No, allow me," said Tanya, her arms around his neck, now playfully attempting to misdirect his aim.
With his free hand he grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back so that her mute laughter, seen in her cheeks and eyes, shone full in the light of the ceiling fixture. Meanwhile Agnes, confused and trembling, tried to stand but had no strength in her legs.
The bullet entered her heart and lodged there. Had it been a millimeter short Agnes would have had to be shot again, and one muffled sound from the blued muzzle was all that Sanguineus wanted to risk. He lowered the gun and watched Agnes crumple to the floor at Tanya's feet.
"Retrieve the money from her bag," he said. "As budgeted, it will more than cover my expenses tonight."
"Fine," said Tanya, digging her fingernails into the nape of his neck and spreading panting kisses over his face. "Where do we dispose of the body?"
"Put the tennis racket case in the boot of your Audi. Follow me to my room in Terrasini. My equipment is there. It is time to prepare the hit."
"Yes, fine, but what about this corpse on the floor?"
"If you will untie yourself from around me I will explain," he said.
She blew a last soundless laugh into his face and stepped back. "You see what you do to me. You have an unfair advantage. Now, um, the body?"
"I'll drop it down the laundry chute at the end of the hall, when we leave."
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