The Italian Divide (34 page)

“I tried calling him on his cell a couple of times. The first time, he didn’t return the call. The next time, I got a recording that his phone had been disconnected.”

“Do you have any other way of getting to him?”

“What are you thinking?”

“From all of the facts you’ve presented, it’s possible that he and Parelli had a falling out—this is probably a long shot—but what the hell, we’re grasping at straws.”

She thought for a few seconds before saying, “I have a possible way of getting to Luciano.”

“Great. What’s that?”

“Your new friend, Carlo Fanti. I’ll get right on it.”

Elizabeth checked her email. The woman in Ascona confirmed that Zhou would be staying at Number 16, via Delta.

“Excellent,” Craig said. “Now I better get moving. I have to meet Giuseppe. When should we get back together?”

She sipped some cappuccino. “I’m confident you’ll be coming to Ascona next week one way or another.”

“A good bet.”

“I’m scheduled to arrive in Ascona on Monday around noon with a reservation at the Eden Roc. I’ve gotten to know the manager. I’m sure he’ll let me register under the name of Simone Morey. I have a passport in that name which I used for my trip to Beijing. So you’ll have a place to stay from Monday without registering.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“Since you’re a hotel snob, I should tell you that the Eden Roc is up to your usual standards of luxury. It’s a fabulous hotel and the best one in Ascona.”

“Hey, that stung. I’d stay anywhere with you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Listen, Elizabeth,” he said as if barking a command. “Once you get to the hotel in Ascona, stay in the room until I get there.”

“Who appointed you to give me orders?” She sounded angry.

“Zhou is certain to have some of his goons with him. They’ve already attacked you once. If they spot you, they’ll come after you again.”

“Don’t worry. I can protect myself. I have a job to do in Ascona for the paper, and I intend to do it.”

After leaving the hotel, he took a cab to Giuseppe’s office in the La Defense office complex.

Craig told Giuseppe about Ascona and his colleague reacted with enthusiasm. Together, they went to see Jean-Claude.

“Before you two tell me what you want,” the Frenchman said, “I have some news for you.”

Craig could see that Jean-Claude was pleased and excited. “Tell us.”

“I had our Treasury people follow back to the source the money trail on the second 500,000 euros Radovich received.”

“And?” Craig asked anxiously.

“From Biarritz, it goes to Moscow. From there, through a circuitous route runs to a Beijing bank owned by Zhou Yun, the Chinese Finance Minister.”

“Son of a bitch,” Giuseppe said. They all laughed.

Craig was thrilled. Their case against Zhou, while still circumstantial, had just gotten stronger.

Giuseppe told Jean-Claude what they wanted: the French government’s extradition of Zhou and Qing Li from Switzerland the following week to stand trial for Federico’s murder.

As Giuseppe was talking, Craig watched Jean-Claude screw up his face into a somber frown and negative expression, while pursing his lips together and shaking his head.

“Impossible,” Jean-Claude said at the end.

Craig had learned to despise that word more than any other in the French language. He had heard French people use it for the truly impossible, like running a two-minute mile, as well as anything they just didn’t want to do, like lowering the room temperature.

“Why is it impossible?” Craig asked.

“The justice minister will never approve it.”

“Will you at least ask?

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Jean-Claude,” Giuseppe said. “Federico was murdered on French soil.”

“That’s true, but—”

“It’s the only way.”

Jean-Claude sighed deeply. Craig took that as hopeful sign. “Only if Giuseppe goes with me, and he does the asking. I have a family to support and I would like to keep my pension.”

“That bad?”

“The idea that my government would do anything to upset, much less outrage, China, the world’s second biggest economy, which is rapidly on its way to passing the United States. is too preposterous to imagine.”

“But will you at least try?”

“Sure, if Giuseppe does the talking. And I would advise him to wear a bullet proof vest.”

As they prepared to leave the office, Jean-Claude said to Craig, “You might as well wait here. This won’t take long.”

Jean-Claude was right. Thirty-four minutes later they returned, Giuseppe looking dejected.

“He turned you down?” Craig asked.

“He laughed at Giuseppe,” Jean-Claude said. “He wouldn’t even entertain the idea.”

Craig and Giuseppe thanked Jean-Claude for his help and left the office.

They stopped at a small brassiere. “Where to next?” Giuseppe asked.

“Rome,” Craig replied. “Federico was an Italian citizen. You could try Zhou and Qing in Italy. Let’s ask your President Cerconi to seek his extradition from Switzerland.”

“That might work. He likes you, Craig. Remember he gave you the help you needed when we were defending the Vatican.”

“I know, but I’m not Craig Page now. I’m Enrico Marino.”

“If you want to get this, you’ll have to tell him you’re really Craig Page.”

Craig hated disclosing his identity to any more people, but he knew Giuseppe was correct.

Giuseppe called his pilot. “He’ll meet us at Orly in thirty minutes,” Giuseppe told Craig.

Rome

F
or the meeting with President Cerconi, Craig ditched the glasses. An hour before, he stopped in a hair salon to have his hair coloring rinsed out. He could reapply it after the meeting, but for now he was desperate to gain any advantage he could. Perhaps Cerconi was a racing enthusiast.

It was five o’clock when Craig and Giuseppe filed into Cerconi’s office in the Palazzo del Quirinale, the ornate residence of the Italian president. In setting the meeting, when asked by Cerconi’s secretary for the subject, Giuseppe had said that it concerns an important legal issue. Craig wasn’t surprised to see that Julio Flavio, Italy’s justice minister, was already in the room.

“Well congratulations on winning the race in Stresa,” Cerconi said. “I was glad it was one of our boys.”

Craig swallowed hard. Well not exactly. This was damn complicated. He’d better just spit it out. “Mr. President, my being Enrico Marino was sort of a ruse. I’m actually Craig Page. I think you’ll remember that—”

The president’s head snapped back. “I would have never thought that in a million years. Plastic surgery?”

“Yes sir.”

“The surgeon did a good job.”

“Thanks.”

“Was he Swiss?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They do the best work.” Craig wondered if Cerconi had some work done or was considering it. “Agreed.”

“Well anyhow, I have fond memories of Craig Page. Giuseppe explained to me that your ancestors were Italian. So I could still say one of our boys won the Stresa race.”

The four of them sat down at a conference table.

“Okay. What can I do for the two of you?” Cerconi asked.

Giuseppe nodded to Craig who explained what they wanted. As he spoke, the justice minister was scowling; the president seemed intrigued.

When Craig was finished, the president said, “I like the idea of making Zhou pay for Federico’s murder. He was a friend of mine, and also one of the most prominent and well-respected people in all of Italy.”

“Let’s not go so fast,” the minister said. “You’d be damaging relations with one of our largest trading partners.”

Craig responded, “I am convinced that Chinese President Mei Ling is not backing Zhou in this.”

“That’s good to know. I don’t like being pushed around by those people,” the president said. “Besides, Zhou was trying to take over a major part of our banking business.”

“All of that may be true, but this is a legal issue,” the minister said, trying to control the turf. “And in my opinion, the case against Qing and Zhou is insufficient for the Swiss to extradite.”

“Why don’t you put the case together,” Craig replied, “and see what the Swiss say.”

The minister looked annoyed. “Are you questioning my judgment on a legal issue?”

“I was just—”

“Do you have a law degree Signor Page?”

“No, but—”

“Then my opinion must be the opinion of this government. You do not have enough evidence to warrant extradition. So I will not seek it.” His words had the ring of finality.

Craig and Giuseppe looked at the president. They were convinced Cerconi’s sympathies were with them. Would he be willing to overrule his justice minister on a legal issue?

“I’m afraid, gentlemen,” the president said meekly, “on an issue like this, I must defer to my justice minister.”

Craig realized further argument was futile. He and Giuseppe thanked the president for his time and filed out.

Depressed, Craig accompanied Giuseppe back to his office.

Giuseppe sat down behind the desk. “What now?” he asked.

Craig was looking at a map of Europe taped on the wall. He saw Ascona in Switzerland on the northern end of Lake Maggiore. On the southern end of the lake was Stresa.

“If I could get Zhou into a boat in Ascona,” Craig said. “I’d be able to bring him to Italy.”

“You mean kidnap him?”

“Yes.”

“But what good would that do? You heard the president’s decision.”

“That was only on the legal intricacies of requesting extradition. On substance, he was with us. Besides if we actually had Zhou in Italy, with Elizabeth’s help, we’d use the media to trumpet the fact that Zhou killed a well-liked Italian banker and philanthropist. That Zhou was trying to take over a large part of Italy’s banking business. And if Elizabeth succeeds, we’ll also be able to show that Zhou was trying to manipulate the Italian election for Parelli. With all that, the Italian people would demand that he be tried. The president would then overrule the justice minister.”

Giuseppe was smiling. “What’s so funny?” Craig asked.

“I have to hand it to you, Craig. You’re undaunted. You keep getting knocked down and you’re back up on your feet.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be. However, your plan still has one major obstacle.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you planning to kidnap Zhou yourself?”

Craig took a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d arrange to have three or four special ops troops from the Italian army help me out.”

Giuseppe shook his head. “You’re dreaming. First of all, I don’t have authority to get those troops. And second, I know the minister of defense. After what happened to our troops in Afghanistan, he vowed that no Italian soldiers would ever leave Italy again as long as he was defense minister. Finally, after our meeting with President Cerconi, I couldn’t possibly do that. So that’s a nonstarter. You have another idea?”

Craig thought about it for a minute. “When does that United plane leave for Washington? I’ll have to get my help there.”

Beijing

Z
hou was in his office waiting for Tyler to arrive when Qing called from Italy.

“The Russians failed us,” he said grimly.

“What happened?”

“Ilana Goldoni’s free. The two Russians guarding her are dead.”

“They truly are incompetent. I can’t believe the police found her.”

“They didn’t.”

“Rumors are it was the mafia. They may be in a turf war with the Russians and this is one more battle between them.”

Zhou didn’t believe it. There had to be another explanation. He had no idea what it was. Events were rapidly spinning out of control for Zhou. Nothing was going as he planned. He wasn’t used to that.

He had to catch a break. He was hoping for that from Tyler.

*     *     *

Moments later, Tyler staggered into Zhou’s office. He must have come here directly from the airport, Zhou thought. The American treasury secretary looked weary and bleary eyed.

Before Tyler sat down, he said, “What’s happening on the bond issue that you had to see me on short notice.” His voice was scratchy. He sounded irritated.

Zhou decided to go on the attack. “I’m so angry that I might not buy a single bond from the new issue. That’s what I wanted to tell you, Professor.”

“Whoa. Can we talk about this?”

When they were seated, Tyler asked, “What happened to make you angry?”

“The purchase of Alberto Goldoni’s shares in Turin Credit, the largest bank in Italy, means a great deal to me. And,” he said, as he paused to point a fat finger at Tyler, “and the CIA is sponsoring a competitive bidder, Barry Gorman. You didn’t even tell me about it.”

Zhou was flying blind, making his accusation on speculation, hoping for confirmation from Tyler. He narrowed his eyes, looked squarely at Tyler, and pressed ahead. “Don’t you lie and tell me you’re unaware what your government’s doing.”

Tyler looked away and said, “These are issues of foreign policy. Not my responsibility.”

Tyler’s words delighted Zhou. The American didn’t deny Zhou’s charge. His shot in the dark had hit home.

“Nonsense,” Zhou said, pounding on the table. “You made a commitment to me to stop action like this. So I have no intention of buying your bonds.”

“But—”

“National default will happen on your watch. You’ll go down in the history books as the worst treasury secretary the United States ever had.”

“But—”

“You can forget about getting a high paying job on Wall Street. They might not even take you back on the faculty at Princeton.”

Tyler looked miserable.

Zhou had stopped talking and waited for the American to capitulate. He was confident Tyler would. The man had no spine. No character.