James Chase - Mission to Siena

Harry’s face lit up.

“That’s the best bit of news I’ve heard since we came here, sir,” he said. “What do we do?”

“This negro apparently goes every night to the cafe. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be there tomorrow night. I want you two to find out where he goes. That’s the first move. I don’t have to tell you that it’s essential he shouldn’t know you are following him. You two get together and work out a plan. I suggest Cherry parks himself at the cafe, and you, Harry, at the other cafe across the Campo. When the negro leaves, you go on ahead of him and follow him from the front. Cherry will follow him from behind. Get a street map and study it. He’s no fool, and if he gets an idea he’s being watched, he’ll try to shake you off; knowing all the alleys and side streets will be a help. Make sure he doesn’t give you the slip and make doubly sure he doesn’t spot you.”

“We’ll handle him,” Harry said.

“Watch out. He could be a nasty customer ,” Don said, then turning to Marian, he went on, “We’ll continue our research tomorrow. Both of us and also Harry and Cherry will be on the look out for Lorelli. She’s also easy to spot. If any of us sees her, drop everything and go after her. She’s much more important than the negro. If you do have to follow her, you’ll find she’s up to every trick. When I was shadowing her in London, I was certain she hadn’t spotted me, but she had.”

“This should be a most interesting experience,” Cherry said, beaming.

“I hope it’s no more than interesting,” Don said and got to his feet. “Well, let’s break itup and go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll really start work.”

In spite of spending practically the whole of the next day in the Records office at Siena, neither Don nor Marian found any further information about the Vaga family. All trace of the family ceased at Florence.

Straightening his aching back, Don looked with exasperation at Marian.

“It certainly looks as if no member of the family ever came back to Siena,” he said. “I think the next step is to check the records in Florence. Do you feel like having a crack at it? ” Marian nodded.

“Of course. There’s a train to Florence in an hour. If I hurry I can catch it.”

Soon after six o’clock Don drove back to the empty villa after seeing Marian on to the train. Cherry and Harry had already gone separately into the city and were ostentatiously sight-seeing while keeping their eyes open for any sign of Lorelli or the negro.

Don booked a call through to Chief Superintendent Dicks, and then settled himself down with a highball and a cigarette to wait for Dicks to come on the line. After a twenty minute wait, the telephone bell rang.

“We’re getting somewhere,” Don said when he heard Dicks’ voice. He went on to tell him about the Vaga family. “Can you get into touch with the Italian police without saying why and find out if there is any male member of the family still alive? It’s my bet if there is, he’s the Tortoise.”

I’l see what I can do,” Dicks said. “I like the idea. It hooks up with the facts.”

“Although I’m making progress I’m not moving as fast as I had hoped. I want you to hold off that report for another week. If the police move in at this stage, our bird might vanish. If I locate him, I let you know at once and they can collar him.”

Не purposely didn’t tell Dicks that he had seen Lorelli nor did. he mention the negro. He knew if Dicks learned just how far he had progressed, he would be certain to call in the Italian police, and Don was equally certain this wasn’t the way to play the hand.

“All right,” Dicks said. “It’s not as if you have any evidence I can act on yet.”

“Fine,” Don said. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Find out about the Vaga family for me as fast as you can and call me here before ten o’clock in the morning. So long for now,” and he hung up.

He sat for some minutes, thinking. He felt he could safely leave Harry and Cherry to take care of the negro. He decided it would be safer to keep clear of the Campo himself in case the negro became suspicious of him. A cautious talk with Pedoni, the bookseller, might be worth while.

Leaving the villa, he went down to the car. It took him twenty-five minutes of slow driving to reach Via Pantaneto, and then nearly as long again to find a place where he could leave the car.

It was getting on for half-past seven by the time he pushed open the bookshop door and stepped into the brightly lit, well-stocked bookshop.

The shop was empty, and Don wandered over to the history section and began to examine the titles.

“Good evening,” Pedoni said, coming from behind a partition that screened the office from the shop. He spoke Italian.

“Is there something I can show you?”

Pedoni was a small fat man, swarthy and on the wrong side of sixty. His small eyes, half-hidden behind thick-lensed spectacles, reminded Don of two glistening black olives.

“I’m looking for a detailed history of.this city from 1400 to 1600,” Don said. “There doesn’t seem anything here.”

“There’s Cozarelli’s history,” Pedoni said. “That deals with the period or there’s Mariano’s history which also covers the period, although not in such detail.” He fetched a short ladder, set it against one of the shelves and clambered up it. He found the volumes and brought them down. “Cozarelli is the better of the two.”

“I’m interested in the history of the wards,” Don said, taking the book. He examined the index. There was no mention of either Genga nor Vaga. “I want to find out how the wards acquired their names, who their leaders were and so on.”

Pedoni pushed his glasses more firmly up his fat nose.

“Mariano has a chapter covering that, I believe.”

Don began to examine the second volume.

“I was in the Cathedral library yesterday,” he said casually, “and I was surprised to see a picture there depicting Piccolomini at the court of James I. How was it that Piccolomini got over to Scotland?”

Pedoni beamed. Don had already discovered, the little bookseller liked nothing better than to air his knowledge’ of the great men of Siena, and for the next twenty minutes, he gave Don a detailed history of the life of Piccolomini.

“It was when he was elected pope in 1458 that the Sienese noblemen were re-admitted to a share in the government,”

Pedoni was saying when Don, seeing his opportunity, interrupted him.

“That would be in Jacopo Genga’s time, wouldn’t it?” he asked. “I was reading in one of the books I got from you that he grabbed power from a rival.”

Pedoni’s little black eyes turned cloudy.

“I don’t recall Jacopo Genga,” he said.

“He and this other fellow were candidates for the leadership of the Tortoise ward. He wasn’t elected and he plotted against this other fellow — Vaga I believe his name was.”

Pedoni shook his head.

“An obscure piece of history, signore. I know nothing about it”

“It doesn’t matter,” Don said, concealing his disappointment. He picked up Mariano’s history. “I’ll take this. It may give me what I’m looking for.”

“I may be able to find exactly what you want,” Pedoni said as he gave Don change from a five-thousand lira note. “If you will let me have your name and address, signore, I will send you a card if I am successful.”

“Don’t bother to do that,” Don said, moving to the door. “I’ll be in again.”

“It is no bother, signore,” Pedoni said, opening the door. “Besides I would like to send you my monthly lists. You are staying at the Continental Hotel perhaps?”

Don looked at the little man. There was a scarcely concealed tenseness about him that put Don on his guard.