The Mafia Emblem Read online

  - 20 -

  Ben didn’t understand what had caused Emilio to suddenly become so upset.

  The old man hurried forward. “Si, signor. Si, signor. I very sorry.”

  There was a rattle at the back of the door as he made haste to let Ben in. In no time at all the gate was swung open for him to enter. Surprised by the sudden change in the man’s attitude, Ben stepped over the coaming into the shaded front courtyard and looked around him.

  There was a clatter behind him as the door was closed and locked. The next second Emilio was beside him, plucking at his sleeve.

  “Si, signor. Please to come this way.”

  The little man led him across the paved area where abundant clumps of moss and weeds had forced their way between the cracked and broken paving stones. The rose bed in the centre was a tangle of weeds. When he looked up at the front of the house, Ben could see that most of the windows were closed and shuttered. The paintwork was dirty and peeling, the gutters choked and leaking. The place showed every sign of severe neglect.

  Why, Ben wondered, had it been allowed to deteriorate like this in the last couple of years? He realised that the Italians weren’t as house-proud as the British, but Toni had been interested in the upkeep of their property in England. Why hadn’t he done more for his ancestral home?

  They went up the steps and through the large front door beneath the crumbling portico. He noticed that its stained glass fanlight was cracked and dirty. The hall was dark and cool, but it appeared to be unkempt. There was thick layer of dust lying on the furniture as though no one cleaned it any more. Emilio led him down a side corridor on the left and into a small sitting room. He pulled the dust covers from off a settee and motioned for Ben to sit down.

  Mumbling something about Signor Alfredo, the little man departed, closing the door behind him and leaving Ben on his own. He looked round the shrouded room. The whole place gave the impression that it was no longer lived in, with the furniture covered in drapes and a pall of dust everywhere. The room was lit by a pair of tall French doors which he knew would open onto the sun-drenched terrace above the garden. The late afternoon sun was streaming straight in through the windows and Ben found it stiflingly hot. He felt he urgently needed some fresh air.

  The doors squeaked protestingly as he put his weight into turning the handle. When he pushed them open the air outside was scarcely any cooler than that in the room, but at least it was fresher and less dusty. Ben noticed that one of the shutters outside the window stood half open and jammed, while the other was missing altogether. Through the opening Ben had a fair view of the garden. His eyes took in the terrace where some of the weeds were three feet high. As far as he could see the rest of the garden was a complete jungle of undergrowth. Once again the general dilapidation seemed to indicate that no one was caring for the place. Things had certainly got a lot worse since he was here just over two years ago.

  He couldn’t understand it. He knew that Papa Cimbrone had been ill for a long time, but Alfredo was young and active. Ben assumed there was no shortage of money. Toni had told him that the Cimbrone exports of wine had never been better. Yet the whole place had been allowed to run down. It was as though there was no longer anybody who loved this once beautiful old house.

  While he was musing by the open window, Ben suddenly became aware of a conversation going on somewhere nearby. In fact it sounded more like an argument. It was dominated by a woman’s high-pitched staccato voice. He could imagine the furious, gesticulating hands; the lips drawn back to expose the teeth; the dark, angry eyes. A man answered her in low, dull tones as if sullenly apologetic. There was also a third voice which interjected from time to time with a strange, almost nasal twang. It was low enough in pitch to be a man’s, yet it had the modulation of a woman.

  Intrigued by this unknown dispute, Ben took a careful step through the doorway and onto the terrace. The aspect from here was approximately south-west. In the afternoon sun the light-coloured, peeling stucco and the stone paving seemed to intensify the heat and the brightness. Coming from the shady room, it took Ben a few seconds before he could see clearly. Then he noticed a pair of shutters open only three windows from where he stood. He took a few further, fascinated steps towards the argument, regretting his poor knowledge of Italian.

  Just at that second a man came through the window onto the terrace. Although Ben hadn’t seen him for two years, he instantly recognized Alfredo, now head of the Cimbrone family. But it appeared that recent events had taken their toll on his health. In that time he seemed to have aged considerably. His dark hair was shot through with grey. His once smooth face was creased and fringed with deep, sagging jowls. His shoulders had slumped and he had developed a loose pot-belly. Although he must have been no older than thirty-five he looked over fifty.

  Alfredo could not have missed seeing Ben, but he barely seemed to apprehend him. The man’s eyes were unfocussed, his step and direction unsure. It was as though he was bent on some vague quest which shut out all other thoughts. Perhaps his mind was still dwelling on the row behind him, now snuffed out by his precipitate departure.

  The next second a tall, proud beauty of a woman stepped onto the terrace with unhurried tread. She was dressed in cream riding breeches and a high-necked white blouse which was pulled in to a tiny waist by a broad black leather belt. Her raven hair was drawn into a bun at the back of her head, revealing high cheekbones topped by dark sloe-shaped eyes. Her nose was long and straight and slightly spatulate at the tip. Her beauty was only marred by her thin, compressed lips which gave her face a disapproving look. He recognized her as Sylvia, Alfredo’s wife.

  She halted in the doorway, eyeing Ben with undisguised suspicion. Behind her he sensed there was another person. But whoever it was kept themselves out of sight. It was as though there was some evil presence hovering behind her shoulder.

  Shaking off that disturbing thought, Ben stepped forward and held out his hand. “Alfredo, it is so long since I last saw you. I am so sorry about Toni. It will have been as big a shock to you as it was to me.”

  Alfredo took his hand limply and murmured something which Ben didn’t understand. It didn’t seem to be a reaction to Ben’s words. Perhaps he didn’t have enough English to understand what he was saying.

  It was the woman who spoke first. “Ah, Signor Cartwright.” It was a statement without warmth.

  “Good afternoon, Sylvia,” said Ben with a slight inclination of the head.

  She spoke again in Italian to Alfredo. Her voice was sharp and interrogative. Alfredo replied with a shrug of the shoulders as though disclaiming responsibility. Sylvia looked again at Ben. She spoke English with a slight American accent. “How did you get to be here?”

  Ben was puzzled. “Well, by air, of course. I caught the eight-thirty flight from Gatwick.” He declined to mention that it was yesterday’s flight.

  “No. How did you get here?” Her arms swept around her. “Here in the house.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean. I knocked on the gate. Emilio recognized me. I have been here before.”

  She made another short comment in Italian to Alfredo who didn’t react.

  Ben said, “Didn’t you get my e-mail saying I was coming?”

  There was a short hesitation, as though she was trying to decide what would be the best response. Then she nodded.

  “I was very sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.”

  She said “Si” almost so quietly as to be inaudible. Then she turned to Alfredo and said something further. He heard the word terrible being repeated.

  Toni’s brother bowed and nodded at him and said, “Si – terrible, terrible.”

  “Oh, my God,” thought Ben. “His English is even worse than my Italian. Our negotiations are going to be totally reliant on this woman.” But he said to her, “Would you tell Signor Alfredo that I have heard about his offer for the shares in my company. I have come to talk to him about that.”

  She nodded but paused for a moment befo
re she spoke to her husband. Was there now a wary look in her eyes? She said a few words in Italian and Alfredo nodded.

  Sylvia turned back to him. “It is not possible. I am sorry but he cannot speak to you now.”

  “I know it’s a bad time to discuss these things. But it is very urgent. It should not take Alfredo very much time.”

  “No. No, it cannot be done. Not today.”

  Ben took a deep breath. “Signora Cimbrone, this affects the whole future of my company. It is very important to all of us. I have travelled all this way so that this matter may be cleared up. Surely Alfredo will at least spare a few minutes to discuss it with me.”

  “I am sorry, signor.” She had a smile like ice. “Today we have other very important things which are happening. We cannot spare any time today.”

  “Then tomorrow. I could come round tomorrow morning.”

  Sylvia spoke again in rapid Italian to her husband who made a slight movement of his head. Ben could not tell whether it was a nod or a shake. She turned back to him.

  “Very well. It shall be tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “At what time shall I call?”

  Again there was a rapid exchange of Italian before she replied, “Be here at noon.”

  Ben bowed in acquiescence. He had a nasty feeling that no one would be at the Villa Cimbrone when he returned the next day. He resolved that he would be outside at six a.m. even if that raised objections from Donna.

  “Thank you, signora.” He advanced and took her hand. “I will not keep you any longer.”

  Some impulse made him bend and kiss her fingers. As he straightened up he saw that she was watching him with an appraising, almost a speculative look. Ben wondered whether there might be a way through her armour-plating after all. He turned to Alfredo and extended his hand. After the slightest hesitation, Alfredo shook it limply. Ben made for the door and Sylvia began to follow him.

  At that moment a lovely young woman came onto the terrace. For a second her face lit up in one of the most beautiful smiles Ben had ever seen. It instantly swept away any lingering thoughts of Sylvia.