A new mission
…
When we reached the hotel, the countess was met by a man whom I deduced was her brother-in-law. I stood back because I got the feeling that the meeting was not expected and that his arrival was a shock, rather than a surprise, and not a good one.
I didn’t see her again that night, her personal assistant coming over to advise an urgent matter had come up and the countess was needed elsewhere.
Nor did I see the Rodby’s who it seemed were diverted from coming to the hotel. Rodby called and apologised on the countess’s behalf and left it at that. I went home in the chauffeur-driven car; a small consolation afforded for my participation.
I also got the impression that a certain wife got a bollocking for interfering in matters that were not her concern. She may have thought so, given their close relationship, she could ‘help’, but European families preferred to sort their own problems out in very definitive styles, something we did quite understand.
I doubted I would have been able to help. That phrase, ‘lifelong enemy’ told me that another woman had eyes for the count, and her snafu was unexpected and unwanted. The question was, did it have anything to do with the count’s death. It was a stretch, but Rodby would not have made that small concession if she did not think either of us could be any assistance.
When I got home, I had a few drinks and put it all out of my mind.
…
Three days later I was sitting in the basement briefing room, after being taken down by Rodby and introduced to what he described as the two best researchers in the organisation.
Anthony Bird, and Alessia Lombardi.
And as a complete, but pleasant surprise, sitting at the other end of the table, looking as her cell phone, Cecilia. Was her starring role over? Or was working for Rodby her day job?
She heard me come in, looked up, nodded, and then went back to her phone. Rodby didn’t stay. Nor had he mentioned at any time, from the moment I arrived outside his office, what this was about.
I sat next to her at the end of the table.
When Rodby left, she said, “We meet again.”
“For a retiree, it seems odd, unless you’ve also retired.”
“I tried. A starring role wasn’t a good enough excuse. Good thing they finished filming my scenes.”
“Can I expect to see it soon?”
“It was a pilot. It’ll probably finish up on the cutting room floor.”
We looked at the two standing up at the front of the room, glaring at us.
Anothony said, “If you are finished?”
She threw her phone on the table and looked at him. I shrugged.
“I suppose it’s too much to want this to be a guide to setting up a retirement plan.”
I guess not.
A photograph of the countess suddenly came up on the screen on the wall. Anthony was starting the show, “You will know this woman as Countess Heidi von Burkhardt. She is nominally the head of the international Burkehardt bank, with headquarters in Geneva, and principal branches in Berlin, Rome, Paris, Vienna, and a few other places.”
“A banker. I must have missed that. She doesn’t look like a banker.”
“She isn’t, she inherited the bank from her husband.”
Another photo appeared on the screen; a man I thought looked like a terrorist in an expensive suit. He continued, “Alessandro Burkehardt, her late husband’s brother. Claims he should own and run the bank, that it’s a family company that’s the purview of the male line of the Burkehardt family. Actually, he wants everything she has, and then kick to the kerb for want of a better expression.”
Nice man. He must be the lifelong enemy she had referred to. Looking at him, he was not a man I would willingly challenge to a duel.
“I don’t think we’re here to discuss family squabbles. Money will do that, but it’s not in our purview to settle those scores, is it?”
No answer. Perhaps Rodby didn’t have anything else going on like a megalomanic trying to take over the world this week.
“Bear with us, it gets better.”
Another photo flashed up on the screen, that of a woman about the same age as the countess.
“Vittoria Romano. Alessandro Burkehardt’s current squeeze and a very nasty piece of work. She had already tried to kill the countess twice in twenty years.”
Beautiful but very deadly.
Another photograph came up on the screen, the same woman, but in a photo with three others, two women, the countess, and Mrs Rodby. And a teenager. A girl that looked very much like…”
“Wasn’t that your ex back in Venice, what’s her name yes, Juliet Ambrose?”
Long before she became the disgraced doctor. Long before any of them had become the old ladies there were now.
“This photograph was taken the week before the countess’s wedding. The girl, as you say, has the name Juliet, but she, we now believe, was the illegitimate daughter of Vittoria Romano, and the Count. It’s a very tangled web.
The words ‘lifelong enemy’ came back to me again.
Vittoria. She had his baby, expected him to marry her, didn’t and like any other normal jilted lover, tried to kill the replacement.
“So just the normal complicated Italian aristocratic family secrets fuelling an equally normal feud.”
“Which you two are going to uncomplicate. But first, you must find the countess. She has, as far as we’re aware, not left the country, and hasn’t been seen since she left the hotel shortly after coming home from the Opera. You were there, I believe.”
“I escorted her to the hotel, and when we arrived, she was intercepted by someone who looked a lot like Alessandro Burkhardt.”
“Most likely Fabio Burkehardt. He had an altercation with the check-in staff over a lost booking, and shortly after that, she checked out. A half hour later the surveillance team lost her. We have her last known location and direction she was heading.”
Alessia came down with two folders and gave one to me and one to Cecilia.
“Everything we have on the relatives, those in the country at the moment, possible locations she could be staying, or being held, and background on the family’s issues. There’s a list of properties overseas where she may have gone, but we have no active record of her leaving.”
“Planes or ferries are not the only means,” I said. “Does she or any one of the family own a yacht?”
“She does, but it’s moored at Antibes. It hasn’t moved for over a month.
“I’m assuming Alfie is out there and will be the go-between?”
“Yes. Oh, and one more thing. There’s a bit of an urgency to this because if the countess is not in Geneva in five days’ time to sign the transfer documents, passing complete ownership of everything the Count possessed, she forfeits it to the eldest brother.”
“Doesn’t point a finger at him at all does it,” Cecilia muttered.
Anthony switched off the projector and put all the papers into a folder. “The clock’s ticking. Daily reports to the Chief are mandatory.”
© Charles Heath 2023
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 