Lucifer's Shadow

21 The third way

At Daniel’s request they assembled around the dining table at nine. Laura had placed pastries and cups of macchiato on the table for the men. She sat quietly sipping an orange juice, uncomfortable for a reason he could not guess. Daniel finished his coffee in two straight gulps. He was, he realised, rapidly becoming addicted to this halfway house between the harsh, tiny fix of espresso and the milky bulk of the cappuccino. It was part of a rapid process of assimilation. At times he even found himself starting to think in Italian.

He explained the events of the previous night and Massiter’s offer. Scacchi whistled when he disclosed the terms. The air made a peculiar noise as it travelled through his false teeth. The old man looked particularly yellow this morning, Daniel thought.

“You let this girl play the piece?” Laura asked. “Why? You mean she’s better at it than you?”

“Yes. Much better. The best player in the whole school, according to Fabozzi.”

“And if you’d played it, he would never have known.”

He was unable to understand whether Laura was trying to criticise him or not.

“I can’t say.”

“Then we might as well have gone straight to the Englishman and offered him the thing on a plate,” she observed.

Scacchi tore a croissant in half and nibbled at a small portion. “It’s a good price, Laura. I thought we might generate a little excitement by putting around some rumour about the work’s existence, then setting those who desire it against each other. But Massiter knows more about this particular world than I. His logic seems irrefutable. Furthermore, even if the piece is successful, it could take many years before it earned the sum of money he seems willing to place on the table this very day.”

Laura’s green eyes opened wide. “The Englishman is asking you to commit fraud!”

Scacchi shook his head. “That’s a very narrow interpretation of the facts, my dear. Under the thesauri inventio, I have every right to the object, since it was found on my property. That surely includes the right to dictate how it’s brought to market.”

She threw up her hands in disgust, uttered an arcane Venetian curse, and turned to Daniel, pleading. “Don’t even begin to consider this, I implore you. I know you think this is some grand adventure, and we’re all players in it. But what Scacchi suggests is criminal, and you must surely know as much.”

“I had not realised you possessed a legal mind,” Scacchi observed crossly.

Daniel tried to interpret the expression on Laura’s face. It was not anger; it was concern — for all of them.

“I think I’m old enough to make up my own mind,” Daniel said, hoping to calm the temperature.

“All children say things like that,” Laura moaned, still staring at him.

Scacchi tapped his hand lightly on the table, as if to bring the meeting to some kind of order. “I’m asking for nothing more than a small white lie.”

Paul shook his head. “Hey. Let’s cut the crap, Scacchi. If Daniel puts his name on the thing, we’re screwing people. Period.”

“We’re making them pay an appropriate sum for a great work of art,” Scacchi insisted. “And who’s to say the rightful owner did not leave his music with the thought it might enrich whosoever found it?”

“Who’s to say it wasn’t stolen in the first place?” Paul insisted.

Scacchi would not budge. “That’s irrelevant. Now that Massiter has pointed the facts out to us, do you think there is a single hole in his argument? Without copyright for the thing, the amount of money it can earn anyone is marginal, surely?”

Paul sighed. “Probably. You’re right about what it’s worth with copyright too. The piece couldn’t earn the kind of money he’s offering in years.”

“There,” Scacchi announced with a triumphant look. “That’s settled, then.”

“What exactly is settled?” Laura demanded. “You have not even asked Daniel his opinion of the matter. You simply assume he will agree to this ridiculous idea.”

“Daniel!” Scacchi said. “It’s your choice. I shall, of course, treat you fairly. Let’s say ten percent. At the end of the summer, when Massiter pays the second part.”

Daniel shook his head.

“Fifteen, then,” Scacchi offered. “We can do business here, surely.”

“I don’t want your money, Scacchi! Not a penny of it. You’ve been generous enough to me already.”

Laura’s eyes rolled in disbelief. “Please don’t pretend this is for gratitude alone, Daniel. That may be a part of it, but I think you are still playing some romantic game in your head. This is not a fairy tale. What Scacchi suggests will make you a criminal, whether you are caught or not.”

“I think that is an exaggeration somewhat.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? So what do you think your mother would say on that matter if she were here?”

“You never knew my mother, Laura. You have no idea what she would say.”

“I know her son. He wouldn’t be who he is if she couldn’t see the difference between good and bad. I know—”

“Laura!” Scacchi barked angrily. “Enough. He hasn’t even agreed yet.”

“He doesn’t have to. I can see it in his face.”

The old man scowled. “It’s entirely up to you, my boy. If there’s something else, name it.”

Daniel was silent, wondering at the heat and the emotion in this conversation. There had rarely been a cross word or a raised voice at home in England, only lassitude and, underpinning everything towards the end, despair. This was the world as he had imagined it: full of colour and life and some enticing uncertainty about what the coming days would bring.

“I don’t want anything, Scacchi. If I comply, it’s because I wish to perform a service for you.”

At that, Laura screeched. “Daniel! If you put your name to this… this supposed miracle, you’ll be revealed as a liar and a cheat before the summer’s through. They’ll ask for more music. And you won’t have it.”

“I’ve thought of that,” he replied. “I shall say the concerto left me drained of ideas, and rather than pull some mediocre piece out of thin air, I intend to go back to my studies and wait for inspiration to strike again. It never will. In five years I’ll just be someone else who showed a little early promise and nothing more.”

“Now,” Paul said, suddenly animated, “that could work. Boy wonders rarely have more than a couple of pieces of genius in them anyway. It’s a shame more don’t realise it.”

Laura shook her head at the three of them. “You’re actually going to do this, aren’t you? I can’t believe it. Well, Scacchi, before he parades himself in front of the world as the prince of lies, would you care to tell Daniel here why, precisely, he’s performing this deception? For the life of me, I don’t know.”

The old man bristled. “And you assume it is your business?”

“I assume you are all my friends,” she retorted.

“He will do it because he wishes to,” Scacchi said carefully. “Those are the only circumstances under which I would countenance allowing it to happen. And everything will be at arm’s length. I’ve never had Massiter in this house to this day, nor shall I. Daniel can be our intermediary and deal with him elsewhere.”

“But why?” she demanded, furious. “Why do you need the money? We’ve managed to get by so far without some sudden catastrophe. Why now?”

Scacchi stared at her with a deliberate absence of feeling, as if preparing himself for something he wished not to say.

“Well?” she insisted.

He pushed his coffee cup across the table in her direction, then folded his arms.

“Laura,” he said slowly, “over the time you have been part of my household I have come to love you dearly, and hope you may feel a little of the same in return. You are the one fixed point in the diminishing lives which Paul and I lead. Without you we would be quite lost, and deprived of a dear friend too. For that I cannot thank you enough.”

She stared at him blankly as if she had never heard words like these before.

“Nevertheless,” Scacchi continued, “you are a servant in this house. I employ you to do our bidding. Not to tell us our business. There are matters here which in no way concern you, and it is impertinent that you should assume they do. When I wish your opinion, I shall, rest assured, ask for it, and hold what you say in the highest regard. But now I would like you to clear this table. The coffee cups are long cold and these plates are dirty. After which I should like you to go to the fish market and buy some fresh calamari. I’ve a fancy for squid for lunch, and no one cooks it better than you. On with it! Please. And no more of this nonsense!”

The sudden tears stained her cheeks, a strange contrast with the fury which blazed in her eyes. Laura stood, walked slowly round each of them, collecting the remains of breakfast, then, without a word, left the room.

Daniel listened to her descend the stairs. When he heard the kitchen door close, he turned to the old man, outraged. “Scacchi, I take back everything I said. I’ll not do your bidding or tolerate that kind of cruelty. It’s undeserved of her and unbecoming of you. How could you even…”

Paul rose and patted him on the shoulder. “He’s a mile ahead of you, Daniel. He doesn’t need you to tell him. I don’t know about anyone else here, but I could use a drink.”

Scacchi sat mute, desolate, tears in his eyes. Daniel hated himself suddenly for the rush of adrenaline this unexpectedly heated discussion had given him.

Paul went over to the sideboard, picked up a half-full bottle of Glenmorangie, and returned to the table with three glasses. Daniel put a hand over his. “I require an explanation.”

They tasted their whisky and listened as the outer door closed with a slam.

“And you’ll have one,” Scacchi said. “As much as I can.”

He gulped the fierce liquid too quickly and burst into a fit of coughing. Daniel watched as Paul patted him lightly on the back. The two men seemed terribly frail, as if a sudden movement could snap their bones.

“You must see a doctor. Both of you,” he said.

“This isn’t about doctors,” Scacchi replied. “Oh, I know you and Laura assume as much, and I’m happy you should think so. Understand me, Daniel, I hated myself for every word I spoke. Laura is as close to a daughter as an old fool like me might have. Without her, I doubt I’d still be alive. But there are matters she should not be involved with, and this is one of them. So swear to me. That you will never, never breathe a word of what I now tell you. Let her think this is all for some quack medicine to cure the bitter poison in our veins. Then when it’s done, we can all get back to enjoying what remains of our lives and she’s none the wiser.”

“That’s unfair,” Daniel said. “You ask me to bind myself to an oath without knowing the cost or the consequences.”

“There’s nothing in this that harms her in any way. To the contrary. I seek the best solution for us all. Please?”

Daniel said nothing. “Hell,” Paul grumbled. “Let’s tell him anyway. It’s simple, Daniel. We’re broke. In crapola profunda .”

“I understood that,” Daniel answered.

“No,” Scacchi said with an ironic smile. “You understood we were short of money. This is somewhat more serious. Five years ago, when both of us were diagnosed with this blasted disease, I never expected we’d live this long. All I thought of was making something of the time we had left. I went to the bank and tried to mortgage this place. Well, the sum they offered was an insult. So, like an idiot, I did what any gentleman did and spoke to a ‘man of a certain standing.’ You understand who I mean?”

There could, Daniel thought, be only one possible explanation. “ Mafiosi?”

“A catchall phrase of the newspapers. Not something I would use. But you get my drift. The terms were generous. The penalties for default, however…”

Paul poured himself another glass and, without looking at either of them, said, “Tell him.”

Scacchi groaned, as if in despair at his own folly. “In October, the payment becomes due. Since the time I negotiated this arrangement, the price of this kind of property, in this kind of area, has fallen, and Ca’ Scacchi is in greater need of repair than ever. With interest, the gap between my equity and the debt they seek repaid is some quarter of a million dollars. Not that either of us expected to have to face it. I believed the insurance and the sale of the house on our inevitable deaths would more than cover the debt and that Laura would enjoy the balance. None of this will happen. If I don’t give them the money, they will, of course, kill me, which will be no great loss, I think, except to my dear, gullible Paul here.”

“I believe Laura would have something to say about that,” Daniel said, astonished. “So might I, for that matter.”

“And I think you know none of us as well as you believe,” Scacchi declared. “Kindly hear me out. Before they kill me, they will, some weeks before, first kill her, on the assumption that Laura’s innocent death will be the most painful spur to my compliance. Should that fail, they will then murder Paul, who has at least the stain of being party to this original arrangement. These are businessmen at heart and murderers only by force of circumstance. Practical fellows. They seek the money they are owed, not revenge, but they will, I fear, have one or the other. I…”

Scacchi’s voice broke. He put a hand to his mouth. Paul took away his glass, went to the sideboard, and returned with a tumbler full of water and some pills. Scacchi snatched at them.

“You must go to the police!” Daniel demanded. “Talk to that woman who was here. Immediately!”

The old man shrugged his frail shoulders. “Oh, Daniel. Your innocence is quite overwhelming sometimes. This is Italy. The police would surely investigate. For as long as they could bear interviewing corpses. I believe that policewoman you saw is honest. But she will tell someone who is not. The men we speak of are as close to many in the police as their own family. To complain to the authorities about them…we wouldn’t live beyond a week, even if they put us in a cell.”

“We’ve tried every option,” Paul said. “Believe me.”

“Then what?”

“We seek,” Scacchi said slowly, “a creative solution.”

“You mean the money from the concerto?”

“No! This is insufficient. But the money from the concerto could be our seed. And from it we grow the crop we require.”

“So quickly?” Daniel wondered.

“Oh, yes,” Scacchi said. “I am an art dealer by trade. I have my connections. There is an object on the market in the hands of a fool who does not know its value. Massiter has discovered as much too. You heard him talk of this Guarneri? The Giuseppe del Gesù? The selfsame instrument. Unlike Massiter, I know where it is and how much I may pay for it. Between that and its true price lies the solution to our difficulties. With your assistance, I believe it may be ours to sell on to the very highest bidder.”

“You’re ill,” Daniel told the two men. “But you can walk. You can do business. You can think as quickly as any men.”

“This is true,” Scacchi agreed.

“And this Guarneri,” he went on. “It is, I assume, stolen. Otherwise the ‘fool’ who has it would surely know its true value?”

Scacchi hesitated before answering. “Yes. Let us say it’s stolen.”

“And this policewoman came here because she suspected you may seek it?”

Scacchi grimaced. “I will be honest with you. She knows there is an object on the market, though not what it is. Who are we to argue with the police?”

“And this is why you asked me here in the first place? Not just for your library? You have known about this violin for some time and sought me out as your route to it.”

Scacchi thought carefully. “Nothing is quite that concrete. If I’m honest with you, it was at the back of my mind, should the need arise. Yes. Do you agree, Paul?”

The American smiled. Both of them were, Daniel thought, grateful for this conversation, glad to end the pretence. “Of course I agree, Scacchi. Look, we’re sorry, Daniel. We thought we were getting some dumb college kid who’d help us sell some junk from the cellar, then, if we got lucky, run a couple of quiet errands to this guy with the fiddle. We didn’t realise you were going to turn out to be so likeable. Or smart.”

“Or,” Scacchi added, “become a part of us so quickly and so surely.”

“Hey,” Paul said. “We make lousy villains. We’re as sorry, as miserable, and as guilty as hell, and I’ll be damned if I am going to make that confession more than once.”

Daniel laughed and allowed Paul to pour him a small shot of whisky.

“And we still need you,” Paul added. “We could try to do this ourselves. If it’s an up day, maybe it would work. But…” He gestured at the two of them. “You can see for yourself.”

Scacchi leaned forward, peering into Daniel’s eyes. “This is a young man’s game, a fit man’s game. A meeting here. Something to carry there. The risk is minimal, and we’ll take it whenever we can. But if I can’t get your name on the cover of that music, if I can’t rely on you to meet this fellow with the Guarneri and see the instrument to ensure he’s not trying to gull us, we’re lost, Daniel. I will pay for your contribution. Come up with a price.”

They waited in silence.

“Think about it,” Scacchi said. “But not for too long. Massiter wants an answer.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Good. You know I tried to tell you, Daniel. I showed you that handsome Lucifer of mine. Don’t you think a part of him lives inside me?”

“No, Scacchi, I don’t, to be honest.”

“As you see fit. But in any case, remember what I said. When the Devil makes you an offer, there are but three options. To do what he asks. To do what ‘goodness’ demands. Or the third way. To do what the hell you like.”

“I recall.” Daniel looked at his watch. It was just past ten. The decision was, in truth, no decision at all. To refuse would be to abandon them, and Daniel Forster had been abandoned once before, in his cot, by a father he never knew. From the time he first understood the nature of this act, he had come to believe that there were few greater sins one human could inflict upon another. There was a personal reward in the game too. The dull world of Oxford seemed a million miles distant. He felt, for the first time in his life, that he was shaping the world about him, not watching it slowly fall apart. “I shall require a computer and some composition software. I am not transcribing every last note by hand.”

Scacchi looked excitedly at Paul. “Well?”

“I know someone at the university,” Paul said. “We can fix it.”

“Good,” Daniel continued. “This depends, of course, on your meeting my price.”

They shuffled awkwardly on their seats. “And that is?” asked Scacchi.

“No more secrets. No more deception. You’ll be honest with me, always, or I’ll consider everything between us forfeit, including our friendship. And you’ll find some way of making Laura happy again, for all our sakes.”

Scacchi leaned forward across the table and clutched his hand, his face split by the rictus of a happy grin. “Always. And as for Laura, nothing will give me more pleasure. We are Venetian, Daniel. We are used to these little explosions from time to time.”

“Always,” Paul repeated. “I’ll call about that computer now.”

The American headed for the study. Scacchi stayed at the table, pensive, perhaps a little guilty.

“Thank you,” he said. “For all of us. Particularly my innocent Laura.”

“This changes how I feel about you, Scacchi,” Daniel said.

“I can understand that. You feel let down. Deceived. With good reason.”

“With very good reason.”

“But,” Scacchi added, “as Paul said, you are, in part, to blame. Had you been the gullible lad we thought we’d found, none of this heartache need have occurred. You would have flitted in and out of Venice none the wiser.”

“And you would have failed, Scacchi. The opportunity for this bargain with Massiter wouldn’t have arisen. I think you are, in truth, not very good at this.”

The old man nodded, accepting the point pleasantly. “Agreed. While you appear to be developing a formidable and quite shocking talent for such intrigues.”

They both laughed. The storm was over. “Ah, and now for more important matters,” Scacchi said. “On Sunday Piero fetches us all for a picnic on Sant’ Erasmo. You’ll be the honoured guest of Ca’ Scacchi’s trio of misfits. Bring this American girl too. We should all like to meet her.”

“Amy?” The idea was not appealing. “I don’t think so. I scarcely know her.”

“All the more reason for her to come.”

“I don’t even know if I like her.”

Scacchi gave him a stern gaze. “Daniel. Take this advice, please. You need broader company than this household can provide. Let’s not suffocate each other in this place. It is the job of the old to devour the young whenever they have the opportunity. You must do your best to avoid our toothless jaws.”

Daniel thought of Amy Hartston, sitting in her elegant dress on the Sophia, with Xerxes at the tiller, Piero spouting nonsense, Scacchi and Paul in each other’s arms, and Laura dispensing spritz while hissing, “’Ave a nice day.”

“Can’t wait,” he said, bemused.