He ignored her rebuke, scrolling through a few pages on his computer.
“What is it?” She walked toward him, but he closed the laptop with a snap.
“Don’t look.”
Her eyebrows crinkled. “Why not?”
Gabriel ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Do you remember the carabinieri officer who was assigned to investigate the Uffizi robbery?”
“Yes, what about him?”
“He’s dead.”
“Dead?” Julia’s hand went to Clare’s head, as if by covering her she could protect her.
“Murdered.” Gabriel gestured to his laptop. “There are photographs of the body, all over the internet.”
“They shouldn’t post pictures like that. Have they no respect for his family?”
Gabriel cursed again, his hands in his hair.
“The poor man.” Julia snuggled Clare into her shoulder. “I wonder if he had children.”
“This is also bad for us.” Gabriel’s blue eyes blazed. “The inspector’s body was posed near the Uffizi. Someone is making a statement.”
“You mean the robbery is connected to the murder?”
“It’s possible. Actually, it’s more than possible. It’s likely. He was the lead investigator. Those illustrations are worth a lot of money. Perhaps he was close to finding them.”
“What about the strange man who came to see you in Umbria? Do you think he’s involved?” Julia held Clare even more tightly, bouncing her lightly as she whimpered.
Gabriel stood, pushing his chair aside. “I’m going to call Vitali. It’s morning there, and I’m sure he will have heard the news.”
“Gabriel…” Julia faltered, her gaze moving from her child to her husband. “That man threatened you. Are we in danger?”
“I’ll know more once I speak to Vitali, but it’s too much of a coincidence. I’m not taking any chances, not with you and Clare.”
“What are we going to do?”
“After I speak with Vitali, we’re going to pack our bags and head to Logan Airport. We’re going to be on the next flight out. Once we’re out of Boston, we can decide where to go next.”
He placed his arms around his family and kissed his wife’s temple. “We’ll be traveling west.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
THE GREAT COUNCIL CHAMBER was empty, save for the Prince and his head of security.
Gregor approached the throne and bowed, keeping his head lowered.
The Prince huffed impatiently. “Out with it.”
“I’m sorry, my Lord. News of the policeman’s death has been widely reported. Because the body was found as the sun was rising, witnesses were able to take photographs.”
“I am well aware of the security services’ failure. Have you anything new to report?”
“The human intelligence network was able to secure the body, but not before a preliminary autopsy was conducted.”
The Prince banged his fist against the armrest. “How could they be so careless?”
Gregor felt for his neck. “It’s a high profile case, my Lord. The autopsy was conducted immediately.”
“You are head of security. Have you made any progress in finding the killer?”
Gregor cleared his throat. “The security services have been speaking to the brethren. No one admits killing him, but the policeman was seen near Teatro before his death. A hooded figure was caught on videotape. He appears to have abducted the policeman.”
The Prince leaned forward on his throne. “You have a suspect. Good. Are you sure the figure is male?”
“Yes, my Lord. For various reasons, we used footage of Lady Aoibhe as a comparison. In size and in proportion, the figure was male. If I may be allowed to speculate, the figure put me in mind of Ibarra.”
“Have you spoken with Aoibhe?”
“No, my Lord. Many witnesses can attest to her presence at Teatro before and after the abduction. Since then, we have been unable to locate her.”
The Prince’s eyes alighted on the empty chair in which Aoibhe sat during Consilium meetings. “If Ibarra is still in the city, he must be found, and quickly.”
“Yes, my Lord. I have been hunting him personally, but he is elusive.” Gregor shuffled his feet.
The Prince’s eagle eyes noticed Gregor’s movement. “I take it you have more to report?”
“Yes, my Lord. La Nazione has published an article detailing the dead policeman’s investigation of the Uffizi robbery. The reporter claims to have access to the inspector’s private papers. He is demanding that the carabinieri and Interpol take up the investigation, and that they pursue the prime suspect.”
“And who is the prime suspect?”
“William York.”
The Prince pinned his assistant to the spot with his glare. “How was this allowed to happen?”
Gregor looked up at the ruler in acute distress. “Our intelligence network had no knowledge of a connection between the policeman and the reporter. It seems materials were transferred from one to the other with the instruction that they should be made public should something untimely occur.”
William’s hands curved into fists. “We are just learning of this now? After the entire world has read about it?”
Gregor winced. “Yes, my Lord. The article also reports that the files have been transferred to Interpol. Even if we were to deal with the reporter, the information will have been seen by numerous people.”