Читать книгу Rising Fire - William W. Johnstone - Страница 15

CHAPTER 9

“I never meant for my difficulty to involve you, cara mia,” Giovanni said as he poured wine from a bottle into glasses on the sideboard in his apartment. “A signorina as beautiful as yourself should never have to trouble herself over something as ugly and sordid as gambling debts.”

“That’s what you owe to this man Tomasi?” Denny asked. “Gambling debts?”

“Salvatore Tomasi makes a business of buying debts from gambling houses and individuals alike. I had a run of terrible luck.” Giovanni shrugged. “I would have recouped my losses sooner or later, but Tomasi is not a patient man. He demands payment now.”

“And you don’t have the money,” Denny guessed. It wasn’t really a question.

“I have experienced . . . financial reverses. Much as it pains me to admit it, I lack the funds to satisfy Tomasi’s demands.”

“Can’t you get your family in Sicily to advance some money to you?”

Giovanni laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.

“I am, what do you call it, the black sheep of the Malatesta family. My family cannot strip me of my title, but neither are they inclined to share their riches with me. I have my own money, of course, but much of it is tied up in investments and is not actually available to me at present.”

“You could borrow on it,” Denny suggested.

“A well I have gone to before, on occasion, to live in the lifestyle to which I am accustomed,” Giovanni said with a slight grimace. “Not a viable alternative at the moment, unfortunately.”

She finally took the glass of wine he held out to her and downed a healthy swallow. “There’s only one thing we can do,” she said. “How much do you need to get Tomasi to leave you alone?”

“No! Take money from a woman, from my beloved? No, I say, a thousand times no!”

With anybody else, she might have thought he was being too dramatic. But such flamboyance was just who Giovanni Malatesta was, Denny told herself.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting someone who cares about you help you out of a problem,” she argued. “My grandparents are wealthy, and my father’s ranch is one of the biggest and most lucrative in Colorado. All I need to do is send a few telegrams, and I can have the money wired to a bank here in Venice. Just give me the details of where it should go and how much you need, and we can take care of this first thing in the morning.”

Stubbornly, Giovanni shook his head and said, “I cannot do this. Bad enough that I had to hide behind your skirts . . . and your gun . . . when Tomasi’s men cornered us.”

“They were threatening me, too, you know,” she reminded him. “And I’m sure they’ll continue to do so, now that they know I’m someone important to you. Men like that are no different than the outlaws my father has dealt with back home. They’ll use any leverage they have to get what they want.”

“This is true,” Giovanni admitted. “Salvatore Tomasi and the men who work for him are ruthless.”

“So it’s in my interest to help you with this, too,” Denny said. “Please, Giovanni, let me help. Tell me how much you need.”

For a long moment, he stood there, glaring, then he abruptly lifted his glass and drank down all the wine in it.

“All right. I don’t like it. This still seems wrong. But I will pay you back, every bit.” He named an amount that sounded enormous to Denny and must have seen the look of surprise on her face, because he added hastily, “That is in lire. In American money, a bit more than ten thousand of your dollars.”

That was still an awful lot of money, Denny thought, especially to have lost it gambling. But she said, “I can get that much. My grandparents may not be happy about it, but when I tell them it’s important, they’ll do it.”

“They are in London?”

“They have an estate not far from there where they spend time every year, but their home is in America, like mine.” She had explained to him about Louis’s medical condition and why they had spent so much time in Europe, as well as mentioning that she considered herself an American and that her true home was in Colorado, where her parents lived. “Right now they’re in Boston, but I’ll wire their bank in London as well as sending them a telegram directly. It may take a few days to arrange everything, but you’ll get the money to settle your debt with Tomasi. Will he wait that long?”

“Sì, I believe so, once he knows the funds will be forthcoming.” Giovanni put his hands on her shoulders. “You must promise me that once the debt between the two of us is settled, we will never speak of this matter again. It is too humiliating to contemplate.”

Denny smiled. “There’s no need for you to feel like that, Giovanni. I’m glad to help . . . when it’s someone I care deeply about.”

A moment later, they were wrapped up in each other’s arms again, and Denny didn’t think anymore about gambling debts.

For a while, anyway.

* * *

Louis was opposed to the idea when she told him about it, but Denny expected that. And she didn’t really blame him, either. He didn’t know Giovanni as well as she did. She didn’t believe he would ever allow himself to get tangled up in such a situation again.

She spent all the next day burning up the telegraph wires between Venice, London, and Boston, and by the time she was finished, she had overcome her grandparents’ reluctance to wire the money to the bank in Venice. She met Giovanni in the Hotel Metropole’s lounge that evening to give him the good news.

“The money will be in your account sometime tomorrow,” she told him over glasses of wine. “I’d like to know one thing, Giovanni.”

“Ask me anything, my dear,” he said. “My life, like my heart, is completely open to you.”

“Those men who attacked us that night on the Bridge of Roses . . . were they working for Tomasi?”

He shook his head. “No, they were thieves, plain and simple, just as we thought at the time.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. I’m not acquainted with all of Tomasi’s men, but I know none of them would have attacked us like that unless they were working under Gian-Carlo’s orders. He would have been with them.”

“Gian-Carlo is that hard-faced man who approached us in the restaurant?”

“That’s right. He is Tomasi’s second-in-command and takes a personal interest in all such matters. I believe he . . . enjoys . . . hurting people. Since he was not there on the bridge that night, we can be sure that Tomasi had nothing to do with that attempt on our lives.”

Denny nodded and said, “All right.” She wasn’t completely convinced, but she supposed Giovanni knew a lot more about what was going on than she did. “Where are we going to eat dinner this evening?”

Giovanni made a face. “To my everlasting regret, cara mia, we cannot dine together tonight.”

Denny was surprised. They had been together almost every night for the past two weeks. “Why not?”

“I received an unexpected message a short time before I came here to see you. My grandfather has sent an emissary to Venice, and I must meet with him.”

“Your grandfather,” Denny repeated.

“Sì. As I told you, I have been . . . estranged . . . from my family for some time. But now, it seems that my grandfather wishes to explore the idea of restoring friendly relations. So he asked one of his associates who was going to be coming to Venezia anyway to look me up and broach the subject. The old man wishes to have dinner with me tonight.” Giovanni shrugged. “While I wish there was some other way to do it, if I am restored to my grandfather’s good graces, it will ensure that unpleasant situations such as the one with Salvatore Tomasi never again trouble us.”

“You can avoid that yourself,” Denny told him. “Just don’t pile up any more big gambling debts.”

“Of course, of course. That is my intention, I assure you. But life is uncertain. Problems arise. They are much easier to deal with when one has ample resources at one’s command. Besides . . .” He smiled. “It will be good to be welcomed back into the bosom of my family, if such a thing is possible.”

When he said that, Denny felt a little ashamed of herself for doubting him. He just wanted his family to forgive him for his black sheep ways and take him back. She could understand that. Her family had never shunned her, but at the same time, she knew she hadn’t turned out exactly like they had expected. She had her own wild streak and often gave in to her impulsive nature.

She took Giovanni’s hand and smiled across the table at him. “I understand,” she said. “You go ahead and do whatever you need to do this evening.”

He returned the smile. “I will be thinking of you the entire time! That will help me endure what I am sure will be a tiresome evening with the old gentleman. Then, tomorrow morning I will go to the bank and take care of the final obstacle standing between us and happiness!”

“Would you like for me to come with you?”

Giovanni shook his head emphatically. “No, I don’t want you anywhere near Tomasi, Gian-Carlo, or any of those other louts! You must stay here at the Metropole with your brother, where you will be safe, and then, when all is concluded, I will call for you tomorrow evening. We will have a special celebration! And soon, if all goes well with my grandfather’s emissary, I will be able to pay you back for your oh-so-generous assistance.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she told him. “There’s no hurry.”

“Actually . . .” He picked up his glass of wine. “The hurry is now. I must prepare for this evening’s meeting. Wish me luck.”

Denny clinked her glass against his. “Good luck, Giovanni . . . always.”

They drank, then stood up. Giovanni hugged her, planted a brief kiss on her forehead, and left the lounge. As Denny watched him go, an idea stirred to life in her head.

He might not have wanted her to come with him to this meeting with his grandfather’s emissary . . . but he might enjoy it if she were to surprise him at his apartment afterward. In fact, Denny mused, she was confident she could see to it that they both enjoyed that little surprise.