Assignment Milan, page 15
When mass ended, the women remained in their seats, apparently feeling the need for additional purification. Massimo approached the priest. “May I have a word with you, Father?”
“Certainly, my son. Come with me to the sacristy, and we can talk while I remove my vestments.”
Massimo did not waste words. “I am helping the guardia to locate a dangerous man, a thief, and a killer. He lives somewhere in Milan.”
“And the place you chose to look for a thief and a killer is a church?” the puzzled priest responded. “The Testament tells us that Jesus absolved criminals and the wicked, but it was Jesus who sought those needing redemption. The wicked did not come into churches to petition His favor.”
“I was led to believe that priests know all the sinners in their parish.”
The priest laughed, “There is some truth in that. Who is it that you seek?”
“A thief named Bruno.”
“There is one named Bruno in my flock. To discuss his sins would mean breaking the sanctity of the confessional, and that is something I cannot do. But I assure you, the Bruno who attends mass and takes the sacraments here is not the one you seek.”
“I am a visitor unfamiliar with this city. I am here only to help apprehend this dangerous criminal. You must know your parish. Can you tell me where to look for someone who might know this Bruno?”
“I can offer nothing that you do not already know. Men like the one you seek have not only a single vice; they drink, gamble, and fornicate. You may be asking the wrong priest because there is little crime in this district. You may have better success asking Father John at San Bernardino alle Monache.”
On his way to San Bernardino, Massimo spoke with priests at two other churches. Neither one knew anyone named Bruno. When Massimo reached San Bernardino, Father John had just returned from bringing communion to a bed-ridden parishioner. The priest ushered Massimo to the parish house, where he invited Massimo to share a morning meal. Since Massimo had already eaten a generous breakfast courtesy of the contessa’s chef, he opted for a single piece of fruit while Father John topped his plate with a variety of breakfast fare.
Massimo asked Father John about Bruno as he had with the other priests. He expected the same unproductive response and was startled by Father John’s answer. “I have heard about a thief called Bruno, although I cannot say he is one you seek.” Massimo, pleased that his visits to churches might yield useful information, waited for the priest to elaborate.
“Nine months past, two of my parishioners, Antonio Missaglia and his wife, were awakened during the night by intruders. Antonio and his brothers are well-known armorers, so it is possible that the intruders were looking for weapons. If so, they were looking in the wrong place. The family has a workshop where they make and keep their weapons. Antonio had none in his home.
“The wife heard noises and awakened Antonio. The only heavy object in the bedroom was a statue of San Giorgio sitting on a bedside table. Antonio grabbed the statue and went to investigate. He encountered the intruders in the reception room. In the darkness, he saw only two shadowy figures. Antonio threw the statue and struck the head of one of the thieves. The injured one screamed, and the other cried, ‘Bruno, what happened?’ The one called Bruno moaned and told his companion they needed to leave.
“Antonio stayed awake for the rest of the night. When daylight came, he saw the invader’s blood smeared on the Saint George statue. He reported the incident to the guardia, but they said there was nothing they could do because he could not identify the intruders.”
“How did you learn all these details?”
“Antonio described the incident to parishioners at the next San Berardino Society meeting. He wanted everyone to know what happened so they could protect themselves and report any stranger in the neighborhood with a wound or cut on his face. Antonio recovered from the experience quickly, but his wife, the poor woman, still cannot cope. She suffers from terrible dreams and cannot sleep through the night.”
“Did anyone else report a similar experience?”
“No, and I would know if it had happened again. The members of my flock care for each other. We are like a big family. That is why Antonio wanted everyone to know what happened.”
Massimo left San Bernardino, disappointed that Father John could only confirm the existence of a thief named Bruno. It was mid-morning and taverns throughout the city were opening to serve laborers who preferred spending their noontime breaks drinking rather than eating lunch. Most of the patrons were workers in local businesses who were unlikely to associate with thieves and criminals. Nonetheless, Massimo began visiting taverns and trying to engage the patrons in a discussion. At noontime, taverns drew small groups of coworkers, not isolated individuals. Members of those groups wanted to chat with each other; they did not welcome intrusions by strangers, so Massimo had no success gaining any information.
By mid-afternoon, the character of tavern patrons changed. Individuals gradually replaced the groups of employed laborers. Some were honest men who were out of work, but others were opportunists with few scruples who relied on minor crimes and petty thefts to make their way through life. In the military, Massimo developed a technique for recruiting rogues to serve as informants and spies. He decided that the same approach he had used in the military should also work in the taverns of Milan.
In the sixth tavern Massimo visited, a solitary individual sat at a table cradling a glass of beer in one hand and tracing figures on the dusty tabletop with his other hand. The man’s clothes were old and unremarkable, but on his right hand was an elaborate gold ring inset with a red stone. For reasons Massimo did not understand, small-time thieves had a love for fancy jewelry.
Massimo approached the man and said, “You look like someone I knew in Bergamo. Have you ever lived in Bergamo?” Before the man could respond, Massimo pressed on. “Is your name Jacopo? Or maybe you have a brother named Jacopo?”
As Massimo expected, the man looked up and growled, “I am not Jacopo. I don’t have a brother named Jacopo, and I have never been to Bergamo.” Then he returned his focus to the dust-covered table.
To gain the man’s interest, Massimo offered a compliment, “You have the same sharp eyes as his; that is why I mistook you for him.” The next step in Massimo’s approach had him dangle a hint of mystery, “I had to leave Bergamo, and I can’t go back there.” Massimo observed the mark softening, so he continued. “It’s not easy being a stranger in Milan. I was excited to think I had found an old friend.”
As Massimo turned to feign his departure, he added, “Your beer is almost gone. Let me get you a fresh one to make up for disturbing you.” He called to the tavern keeper. “Bring my friend another beer,” and spreading his hands apart, to show that it should be a large one. A compliment, a mystery, and a free beer. If that trilogy didn’t soften the mark, nothing would.
“I am called Anguilla,” the man said. “I once knew someone named Jacopo, but he was not from Bergamo. Why can’t you go back to Bergamo?”
Massimo knew he had found his mark: a loner with a flashy gold ring who was willing to engage in conversation. Massimo slid back down into his chair and began his fabricated story.
“There is a rich bastard in Bergamo who thinks he owns the entire town and everyone in it. You know how these rich men are. One day I was in a tavern, much like this one. At the next table, the bastard’s servants were complaining about him. I remember one of them saying that all the fancy dinners at the house were served on silver plates, and the guests ate with silver spoons.
“I came up with a plan to get that silver. It was a brilliant plan. I sneaked into the storage room near the kitchen and filled a bag with silver. Unfortunately, as I was leaving, a knife cut a hole in the sack. The knife slipped out and clattered to the floor. The cook heard the noise, so I got my ass out of there as fast as I could. I fled to Pavia, where I could sell the silver. I lived well in Pavia until all the silver was gone. There aren’t many targets in Pavia, so that’s why I came to Milan.”
“Are you looking for work?” Anguilla asked.
“Yes, if it’s the right kind of work. I’m looking for someone named Bruno. I was told he could help me. Do you know him?”
“Yes, I know him. I did a few jobs with him, but he’s a reckless bastard. He takes too many chances.”
“Do you know where he lives…where I can find him?”
“I don’t know where he lives, but he hangs out in the Ticinese district. He works with a partner known as Tonio. I’ve never met Tonio, but people say he is smart and plans every move carefully. If that is true, I don’t know why he works with Bruno.”
Anguilla drained the last of the beer in his mug, rose, and said, “I have to piss.” Massimo took advantage of Anguilla’s absence to slip away. Finally, he had made progress: he learned the district that Bruno frequented and the name of his partner. The next day he would focus his efforts at taverns in the Ticinese district.
26
Privy Council Secretary, Milan
Nico was at the Medici bank with Vittorio when Messer Avocino’s clerk delivered a message ordering the Florentine diplomats to appear before the Secretary of the Privy Council. The order and the clerk’s appearance were completely unexpected. “The note does not state a reason for requesting our appearance,” Nico observed.
The clerk replied, “Council members never give reasons for their actions, nor do they make requests. The letter is not a request. You are ordered to appear. Messer Avocino has also been ordered to appear.”
“There is no time or date mentioned. When will the hearing be held?”
“The council believes in swift action. When the councilors order someone to appear, they mean immediately. I can escort you to the hearing if you wish. Messer Avocino will meet us there.”
Nico assumed the Privy Council might have learned of Salvetti’s murder and wanted to take control of the situation. Vittorio was meeting with the officers of the Medici bank, so Nico decided that rather than interrupt Vittorio, he would go to the hearing by himself. He could fabricate an excuse for Vittorio’s absence should it become necessary. Of greater concern was Nico’s ignorance of Privy Council protocols, but he had no time to seek guidance nor to prepare before the hearing. He could only hope that the Privy Council Secretary would be as tolerant and open-minded as the district magistrate.
Messer Avocino, the guardia investigator, and the district magistrate were already seated around an ornate table in the opulent conference room of the Privy Council Secretary when Nico arrived. One wall of the room displayed the customary painting of Duke Sforza that adorned meeting rooms in all government buildings. However, this painting was the largest and most skillfully rendered of any Nico had seen. Another wall had windows looking out to a manicured courtyard with a central fountain where a life-sized marble Amphitrite, the wife of Poseidon, brought forth a gushing spray. Silk tapestries woven with gold accent threads covered the room’s remaining walls.
Nico chose the empty chair next to Messer Avocino. Across the table, the investigator repeatedly dabbed at his forehead to stem a cascade of sweat. The meeting had not begun, yet his handkerchief was already saturated. The immediacy of the council summons had not given him a chance to change from his wrinkled uniform to a dress uniform. In contrast to the agitated investigator, the magistrate slumped in his chair with arms folded across his chest, and his eyes partially closed. He could not have looked more relaxed and disinterested.
Avocino leaned toward Nico and said in a hushed voice, “It is customary for hearings of this type to be conducted by the Council Secretary, but he is away on personal business. In his absence, the charge falls to a delegate of the Ducal Court. Unfortunately, the member assigned today is a know-nothing, pompous ass. His name is Scotti, but as you will soon understand, to other members of the Ducal Court he is known as the Squirrel.
“Wealthy and influential men in the duchy get invited to serve as advisors to the duke. Scotti comes from a family with huge land holdings near Lake Maggiore. They are the largest timber supplier in the duchy; the family donated all the lumber for the framework of the Milan cathedral. The patriarch of the family is highly respected throughout the duchy. Two of his sons operate the family business, and rumor has it that he sent his third son as his representative on the Ducal Court just to get rid of the useless fool.”
“I am struck by how everyone is reacting so differently to this inquiry,” Nico said. “You appear to be unconcerned, apprehension is causing the investigator to melt, and the magistrate seems bored.”
“We all have different roles; therefore, some of us are more accountable than others. The guardia is responsible for filing reports of all incidents involving foreigners. If the report sent to the council is flawed, the investigator will draw the blame.” Avocino smiled as he said, “The magistrate followed the law, per the treaty that you uncovered. Since he did nothing wrong, he will not suffer the council’s wrath.”
“You too seem detached,” Nico opined.
“I had a role in the matter, but I am not a decision-maker, so I will not be called to account.”
“And me?” Nico asked.
“You …” The entrance of the surrogate secretary interrupted Avocino’s response.
He had close-set beady eyes and a narrow pointy face. His lips were parted slightly, revealing rows of yellow teeth. He does look like a squirrel, Nico thought. Aside from his face, he was unremarkable, being of medium height and slight of build.
What he lacked in physical stature, he attempted to compensate for in dress. A pearlescent border highlighted the embroidery on his snow-white tunic while silver buttons polished to a mirror sheen scattered their reflections across the room as he walked. Scotti strutted to a high-backed throne at the head of the table. The investigator and Messer Avocino rose in a show of respect, and Nico followed their lead. Only the magistrate remained seated.
The last person into the room was the secretary’s aide who placed a folio on the table and spent several minutes explaining its contents to Scotti, who peppered the aide with a flurry of questions. After the aide answered the last question, Scotti instructed him to remain in the room in case Scotti needed additional assistance.
Nico could not see all the documents in the folio that the aide had provided, but he did see one sheet that listed the steps Scotti should follow to conduct the inquiry. Reading from the script, Scotti announced in a high-pitched voice befitting a small rodent, “The secretary is unavailable today. I am Councilor Scotti, and I will be conducting this hearing.” He decided to target the investigator first. Glaring at the apprehensive officer, he waved a paper in the air and asked, “Are you the one who wrote this report about the missing banker?”
The investigator, unsure of whether to stand, rose to a half-standing position. Avocino saw the awkward, some might have said comical, stance and patted his hand on the table as a signal that the investigator should be seated.
In a weak voice, the officer answered, “Yes.”
Scotti readied his verbal attack. “Your filing came after Salvetti’s body was found. A filing made by officials in Gaggiano stated that the body had been in the water for several days. I presume you submitted your report as soon as the widow declared that her husband was missing. Shall we summon the widow to learn why she did not notice for several days that her husband missing?”
“She did inform us as soon as her husband disappeared. That is when I filed the first report.”
“The first report? Where is this first report?”
“It must have gotten lost.”
“Are you accusing the Privy Council Chancery of losing documents? That is a serious charge.”
All color had left the investigator’s face, and his heart beat faster. “No, certainly not. I don’t know where it was lost, but when I learned it was lost, I wrote another report. A second one. The one you are reading.”
“How did you find out that the first report was missing?”
“Uh, someone must have told me.”
“Who told you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Have you written any other reports about this incident, reports about the progress being made to find the killer? We do not have any other reports. Perhaps those were lost too.”
“I have not written any other reports, only the one. I mean, only the two.”
“Is your investigation still underway?”
“I am not aware of any continuing investigation.”
“You are not aware? It is your investigation. Surely if it were ongoing, you would be aware of it.”
The investigator said nothing.
Scotti summoned a forceful tone. “Reports go missing. The lead investigator cannot recall how he learned that his report went missing. He doesn’t know if the investigation is continuing. This is shameful. Even Venetians are not this incompetent. Tell your captain that a team will be sent from the Council of Justice to correct his abysmal operation. Now go. I have heard enough of your pathetic excuses.”
The investigator looked to Avocino for an indication of whether he should rise immediately and leave the chamber. Avocino gave a quick nod. Scotti waited until the investigator left the room before looking to Avocino and the magistrate. “Can either of you tell me how foreign diplomats became involved?”
Nico opened his mouth to answer, but he was silenced by Avocino placing a restraining hand on Nico’s arm. Nico looked over at the lawyer, who gave a barely perceptible shake of his head as a cue for Nico to remain silent.
The magistrate sat up straight, unfolded his arms, and said, “I am the magistrate of the Porta Nuova district. I granted the Florentine diplomats permission to investigate the disappearance of their countryman in accordance with a treaty between the Duchy of Milan and the Republic of Florence.”
