Iain Pears - The Raphael Affair

‘I had a dreadful night last night. You shouldn’t go about worrying me like that. Can you imagine how bad I would have felt if you’d got yourselves killed? Apart from the difficulties of explaining to the minister and getting a suitable replacement for you.’

‘Listen, General, I’m sorry...’

He waved her attempts aside. ‘Don’t apologise. I feel bad enough already. These things happen. Of course, it’s a pity about the business with the tower, Argyll. But I’m sure you didn’t have much choice. Dreadful mess, he made. I’m a little surprised it wasn’t you splattered all over the Campo, though. He was much bigger than you.’

Argyll confessed that he was equally surprised.

‘Ah, well. I don’t suppose it will make any difference in the long run. How are you both? Feeling better yet?’

Flavia said they were. Bottando seemed in a remarkably jolly mood. But then he didn’t know everything yet.

‘Good,’ he continued, blithely unaware of the depressed state of his assistant. ‘I’m glad to hear it. In that case you can come along with me while I make my report to the director. I’ve given him a potted report, but he wants details. I fear he’s not at all happy about Ferraro — the death rate in the museum is a little high, these days. Still, that’s his problem.’

As he led the way to his official police car and they all three squeezed in the back, Argyll was feeling uneasy.

‘Are you sure you want me to come along? After all, I can’t see Tommaso exactly welcoming me with open arms...’

‘Probably not,’ Bottando replied. ‘No, indeed. You’re responsible for nearly all his troubles, I suppose. If you hadn’t leapt to the wrong conclusion to start off with, none of this would have happened. But don’t worry. I’ll protect you.’

Driving up the Corso to the museum the conversation became muted, apart from Bottando muttering to himself: ‘Another Raphael, dio mio! A fine achievement...’

‘Thank you...’ began Argyll.

Bottando held up his hand. ‘Please don’t. We can celebrate later. It’s the grand picture we must concentrate on at the moment.’

For the rest of the journey through the clogged streets of Rome he kept quiet, but Flavia could see in the reflection from the window that he would smile occasionally as he looked absently at the people in the streets. ‘General, what about Ferraro?’ she asked. ‘I mean, I don’t understand how he did it.’

Bottando patted her in a fatherly sort of way. ‘Too much running around, not enough thought, that’s the trouble with you young things. I shall tell you when we see the director.’

At the museum, the driver opened the rear door to let them out and saluted as they walked up the wide steps to the entrance. Then they strode quickly through the galleries, up some back stairs into the office leading to the director’s studio.

‘I’m afraid you can’t see the director. He’s busy.’

Bottando searched out his most ferocious expression and put it on. ‘Nonsense, woman,’ he told the secretary. ‘Of course he wants to see me.’

‘But he’s in a very important meeting...’ she protested as he brushed past and opened the door.

Even someone like Argyll — who was not normally particularly perceptive over matters like the finer nuances of atmosphere — could tell that the mood in the room was not especially happy. Tense, in fact. Which was not surprising, really, as the only occupants, sitting in silence round an unlit coal fire, were the director, Enrico Spello and Sir Edward Byrnes. Clearly, their entry did not interrupt a lively conversation.

‘Gentlemen. Good morning. I’m so glad you’re all here enjoying yourselves.’ Bottando rubbed his hands together, his cheerfulness not even dented by the less than amicable air in the room. With exaggerated punctiliousness he introduced everyone, even though they had all met before. He sat down and beamed at the assembled group.

‘Well, director, there are many details to go through. First, as you know, the museum now has a replacement Raphael, and we can officially call the first one a fake.’

Tommaso nodded. ‘That is a consolation. A shocking business all round. Ferraro of all people.’ He shook his head in a gesture which seemed more sorrowful than angry.

‘Indeed. A distressing affair. As is the other transaction I have to perform.’

‘Which is?’ Tommaso enquired.

Bottando fished around in his pocket and drew out a piece of paper, glancing around at the other five people in the room as he did so. ‘It’s just a little arrest warrant,’ he began in an apologetic tone of voice, clearly enjoying himself. He coughed to clear his throat so as not to stumble as he read out the legal phrasing. He always liked to get these little ceremonies right.

‘Cavaliere Marco di Tommaso, I have here a warrant to arrest you on charges of conspiracy to defraud the state, conspiracy to commit forgery, conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, and non-declaration of income to the appropriate fiscal authorities.’

They sat in Bottando’s office, drinking coffee. Byrnes and Spello had occupied the only comfortable chairs, Flavia and Argyll perched on two tubular-metal affairs brought in for the occasion. Bottando sat at his desk, a look of radiant self-satisfaction about him, Byrnes and Spello had a neutral look on their faces, while Argyll and Flavia brought up the rear with an air of scarcely dissipated anxiety, slowly mingling with a degree of relief.

‘Well, well. What a business. The look on the director’s face when I read out that warrant was worth a small fortune. I never thought anybody could have spluttered so much,’ Bottando said with a happy smile on his face. ‘Couldn’t have been better. I was particularly proud of getting him on his income tax. I shall greatly enjoy reading the papers tomorrow. One month before the budget submissions have to go in for next year. I think I’ll take the opportunity to add on twenty per cent extra for wages and claim another five assistants. Probably get them now.’

‘I found it all rather alarming,’ commented Argyll. ‘I suppose you were bluffing. But what would you have done if he hadn’t started confessing to everything? You would have been in a right mess then.’

‘Good heavens, young man, what do you take me for? Just because I’m a shade overweight and can’t go running around Europe like a runaway train doesn’t mean I’m completely senile, you know. Of course I wasn’t bluffing: I would have been much more circumspect if you hadn’t so brilliantly found that painting. Without that we wouldn’t have been able to prove anything.’

He smiled at the Englishman’s look of blushing modesty.

‘It was obvious that it was him. But you were so concerned to slam poor Sir Edward behind bars you ignored the evidence. While I, sitting quietly in my office with calm detachment, could see it all.’

‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re really objectionable when you’re smug?’ Argyll asked.

‘I know. But it’s not often I have such a good day. Please forgive me.’

‘You were about to say why it was obvious.’

‘Yes. Firstly there was the problem of who knew about the picture in advance of Argyll’s intemperate outburst here after his arrest. And you said you had informed only your supervisor, and that anyway he had been away on sabbatical in Tuscany. Right? And he wrote you a letter telling you he had been reading your paper and had written recommending that you be kept on at your university. He was staying with a friend east of Montepulciano. Interesting, eh?’

Flavia and Argyll leaned back in their chairs, folded their arms simultaneously, and looked exasperated.

‘Well. And you remember I told you — I told Flavia anyway — that Tommaso had surprised me by saying he was going to retire next year to Tuscany. A villa outside Pienza, in fact. Ever been there? No? You really should. Very pretty town. A little jewel, in fact. It’s very easy to get to: go to Montepulciano and keep on going a few miles east and you’re there.