tourists.
“You could have called for help at any time in the museum,” Livia said, “but here you are. You’re curious.” On his face, guilt fleetingly eclipsed confusion and anger. “Father Kelly, trust me, please. We’re after the same thing: the lost copy of the Concordat. Damiani’s notebook may be vital, and as soon as we get somewhere safe I’ll tell you why.”
“Safe? We were perfectly safe until you stole it!”
“No. The clerk was trying to steal it. I stopped him.”
“The clerk? Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
Kelly frowned. “It’s ridiculous anyway. Why would he bring it to me and then try to steal it? He could’ve stolen it anytime, if that’s what he wanted.”
“I think it was my interest in it that called his attention. My interest coupled with yours, I mean. I think he was in the Library to watch you.”
“Me? To watch me? And you say you came for me? I see. Thomas Kelly from Boston is the clueless center of a vast Vatican conspiracy. That’s what you mean?”
“When you put it that way—”
“Well, maybe it’s okay.” The priest threw up his hands. “Maybe that clerk is after the same thing we are, too. Just another member of our happy clan.”
The desperate edge of Father Kelly’s sarcasm was impossible to miss but she answered him seriously. “No. If the people who sent me already had an agent in the Vatican Library, they’d have told me. I’m afraid he might be working for the other side.”
“ What other side?”
She touched his arm and nodded to the aisle, where the guide was working his way along, greeting the group, answering questions. “Don’t say anything. You don’t speak Italian.”
“Of course I—”
She stopped him with a look.
When the guide reached them he gave them a quizzical raise of the eyebrows. Before he could speak, Livia grinned and said in Italian, “Hi! Are you the new guide? Where’s Aldo?”
“Aldo? Who is he?”
“Our guide from this morning. And yesterday, too. He’s so funny! He made us laugh so hard when we were at the Trevi Fountain, didn’t he, Thomas? Even though Thomas doesn’t really speak Italian, but he understood Aldo! Everyone did, even those sour Scots! Does Aldo have the afternoon off or something?”
“ Signora ,” the guide said carefully, “I have been with this group since Saturday. There is no one named Aldo.”
“Oh, but—” Livia suddenly stopped. She looked blankly at the guide and glanced around. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together, then buried her face in them. “Thomas!” she said in English, muffled and laughing. “We’re on the wrong bus!”
“ Signora —”
She dropped her hands, switched to Italian again. “Our bus was blue, too! And we were so late that I was afraid everyone would be mad—oh, this is mortifying!” She craned her neck to look out the window, then giggled like a schoolgirl caught in a prank. “It’s gone! We’re so late they already left!” She rooted around in her bag and dug out her cell phone. “Don’t worry.” She peered at the guide’s name tag. “Sergio? Don’t worry, Sergio. I’ll text Aldo. It’s lucky he gave us his phone number! I thought, why would we ever need that, but you see? He was right! Where are you going next?” Her thumbs hovered above her phone’s buttons. “This group—where are you going?”
Sergio blinked. “To the Colosseum, Signora .”
“So were we! Oh, good! Oh, marvelous! I’ll text Aldo and tell him not to worry about us and we’ll just get off and meet the group there and thank you so much, Sergio! I’m sorry to cause you trouble! Oh, how ridiculous!” She laughed again and bent over her phone, thumbing rapidly. “Thomas, what a pair of idiots we are! Why didn’t you say something? You know I have no sense of direction! This is so funny!” She was still giggling and thumbing when Sergio nodded, said something about having been put to no trouble at all, and walked quickly back up the
“You could have called for help at any time in the museum,” Livia said, “but here you are. You’re curious.” On his face, guilt fleetingly eclipsed confusion and anger. “Father Kelly, trust me, please. We’re after the same thing: the lost copy of the Concordat. Damiani’s notebook may be vital, and as soon as we get somewhere safe I’ll tell you why.”
“Safe? We were perfectly safe until you stole it!”
“No. The clerk was trying to steal it. I stopped him.”
“The clerk? Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
Kelly frowned. “It’s ridiculous anyway. Why would he bring it to me and then try to steal it? He could’ve stolen it anytime, if that’s what he wanted.”
“I think it was my interest in it that called his attention. My interest coupled with yours, I mean. I think he was in the Library to watch you.”
“Me? To watch me? And you say you came for me? I see. Thomas Kelly from Boston is the clueless center of a vast Vatican conspiracy. That’s what you mean?”
“When you put it that way—”
“Well, maybe it’s okay.” The priest threw up his hands. “Maybe that clerk is after the same thing we are, too. Just another member of our happy clan.”
The desperate edge of Father Kelly’s sarcasm was impossible to miss but she answered him seriously. “No. If the people who sent me already had an agent in the Vatican Library, they’d have told me. I’m afraid he might be working for the other side.”
“ What other side?”
She touched his arm and nodded to the aisle, where the guide was working his way along, greeting the group, answering questions. “Don’t say anything. You don’t speak Italian.”
“Of course I—”
She stopped him with a look.
When the guide reached them he gave them a quizzical raise of the eyebrows. Before he could speak, Livia grinned and said in Italian, “Hi! Are you the new guide? Where’s Aldo?”
“Aldo? Who is he?”
“Our guide from this morning. And yesterday, too. He’s so funny! He made us laugh so hard when we were at the Trevi Fountain, didn’t he, Thomas? Even though Thomas doesn’t really speak Italian, but he understood Aldo! Everyone did, even those sour Scots! Does Aldo have the afternoon off or something?”
“ Signora ,” the guide said carefully, “I have been with this group since Saturday. There is no one named Aldo.”
“Oh, but—” Livia suddenly stopped. She looked blankly at the guide and glanced around. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together, then buried her face in them. “Thomas!” she said in English, muffled and laughing. “We’re on the wrong bus!”
“ Signora —”
She dropped her hands, switched to Italian again. “Our bus was blue, too! And we were so late that I was afraid everyone would be mad—oh, this is mortifying!” She craned her neck to look out the window, then giggled like a schoolgirl caught in a prank. “It’s gone! We’re so late they already left!” She rooted around in her bag and dug out her cell phone. “Don’t worry.” She peered at the guide’s name tag. “Sergio? Don’t worry, Sergio. I’ll text Aldo. It’s lucky he gave us his phone number! I thought, why would we ever need that, but you see? He was right! Where are you going next?” Her thumbs hovered above her phone’s buttons. “This group—where are you going?”
Sergio blinked. “To the Colosseum, Signora .”
“So were we! Oh, good! Oh, marvelous! I’ll text Aldo and tell him not to worry about us and we’ll just get off and meet the group there and thank you so much, Sergio! I’m sorry to cause you trouble! Oh, how ridiculous!” She laughed again and bent over her phone, thumbing rapidly. “Thomas, what a pair of idiots we are! Why didn’t you say something? You know I have no sense of direction! This is so funny!” She was still giggling and thumbing when Sergio nodded, said something about having been put to no trouble at all, and walked quickly back up the
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