It was a curious thing that Giorgio Vicenti showed his teeth in a smile only when he was tense with excitement. In all other benevolent moods his smile seemed nothing more than a means of lifting his silver mustache at a rakish angle. These minor smiles made his visitors and associates uncomfortable, since they could not tell if he was fond of them or hinting at something he knew about them that they wished he did not. No one wanted to be uncomfortable in the presence of Signor Vicente. He was rich, very rich, and was ruthless with the power that such a wealthy status grants.
He leaned back in his swivel chair at his desk, linking his fingers, and said, between the teeth of his excited smile, "So then, Professor Rolgo, the contract is finalized?"
"In all respects," said the slim, vulture-like man in the horn rim glasses and grey corduroy suit, "excepting the negotiator's fee. That amount, as you should know if my colleague has done her usual efficient job, is six thousand American dollars."
"It has been wired to the account I was given, the Swiss account. This is satisfactory, Professor?"
Rolgo nodded, but not like a man who was satisfied. There was always this emotional hurdle to get over, this uncertainty that his fee was safely forwarded. "It is well," he said, patting the armrests. "Your step-sister, Signora Isabel Consuela Manzini, will be liquidated within the time-frame stipulated by the contract."
"You trust me not to speak of the contract to even my most trusted acquaintances," Giorgio remarked. (As was expected, the client was now indulging his curiosity.) "Isn't such trust a risky thing for a teacher at a prestigious university whose sideline is inconspicuously outside the law?"
"What I trust," said Rolgo in his best professional manner, "is the understanding that if you should reveal this contract to an unauthorized person, you will be killed within seventy-two hours."
Giorgio bared his teeth, his eyes twinkling. "How strange a comfort that is for me; as much for me as for you. May I ask the name of your organization?"
"I am surprised that your friend in the Ministry did not mention it. He has negotiated three contracts himself. He is an authorized recruiter and paid well for it. But no matter. The name of the organization is Lucretia's Glove."
Giorgio was amused, though a little baffled, by a name that seemed to have no relation to the act of assassination. "May I ask you to explain, Professor Rolgo?"
"Certainly," said Rolgo, who was in turn amused. "Lucretia features in the history of ancient Rome, as surely you know. She was raped, and her subsequent suicide caused a rebellion that changed the Roman kingdom to a republic. The glove symbolizes the act of vengeance."
Giorgio smiled slyly. "I suspect there is something more to it, but I shall not inquire. I do wonder why my Ministry friend did not mention the name, when he was so eager to mention the name of the master assassin. Sanguineus. Not that I had ever heard of the man, but Arturo was most impressed with what he himself had heard. I should like to see this Master Sanguineus with my own two eyes, before he fulfills the contract. I am paying enough to Red Rum. I should think I am entitled to meet him."
Professor Rolgo squirmed in his chair. A negotiator was wise to accommodate the wishes of the client whenever possible, for, as the record showed, a contented client was apt to consider further contracts. Rolgo was keenly aware that Signor Vicenti had others besides his step-sister to be worried about. The smell of 'red rum' was in the air, as the negotiators were fond of saying to each other when recounting their efforts with men like Giorgio Vicenti. (He owned Europe's largest shipping firm, the La Mar Victoire line.) And so, with these considerations in mind, Rolgo said, "It is a decision of the operative, as to whether he, or she, deigns to meet with the client. I will pass on your request. But I must warn you, the client who meets the operative in person takes the risk of becoming a 'target of prejudice,' should the operative conclude that his own welfare is jeopardized by the client's knowledge of him."
"But my good man," said Giorgio in a mock American accent, "if I can be trusted not to speak of the contract, may I not be trusted to safeguard the identity of the assassin?"
Rolgo shrugged. "It is the right of the operative to exert extreme prejudice against a client if he feels this to be the prudent action. I advise you not to request a meeting with Master Sanguineus."
"Are you adamant, Professor? Has this assassin killed clients before?"
Rolgo could see that Signor Vicenti was the romantic type who could not accept the possibility that his charmed life could be subject to a lethal misfortune beyond that of death by natural causes. There was no use arguing with such a man. "Not to my knowledge," he said. "Have you a place in mind for the meeting? He will not meet in a public place."
Giorgio considered, and, with the enthusiasm of a young boy, suggested the library of his estate in the province of Palermo; there being a door in the library that opened onto a walled garden.
"Very good then," said Rolgo resignedly. "I will see that Master Sanguineus is informed."
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