Hannibal - Thomas Harris [57]
Lights on as someone in the crowd found a two hundredlire piece and at the moment of touching Dr Fell she looked into his face, felt sucked to the red centers of his eyes, felt the huge cold vacuum pull her heart against her ribs and her hand flew away from his face to cover the baby's face and she heard her voice say “Perdonami, perdonami, signore,” turning and fleeing as the doctor looked after her for a long moment, until the light went out and he was a silhouette again against candles in a chapel, and with quick, light strides he went on his way.
Pazzi, pale with anger, found Romula supporting herself on the font, bathing the baby's head repeatedly with holy water, bathing its eyes in case it had looked at Dr Fell. Bitter curses stopped in his mouth when he looked at her stricken face.
Her eyes were enormous in the gloom. “That is the Devil,” she said. “Shaitan, Son of the Morning, I've seen him now.”
“I'll drive you back to jail,” Pazzi said.
Romula looked in the baby's face and sighed, a slaughterhouse sigh, so deep and resigned it was terrible to hear. She took off the wide silver cuff and washed it in the holy water.
“Not yet,” she said.
Hannibal
Chapter 27
IF RINALDO Pazzi had decided to do his duty as an officer of the law, he could have detained Dr Fell and determined very quickly if the man was Hannibal.Lecter. Within a half hour he could have obtained a warrant to take Dr Fell out of the Palazzo Capponi and all the palazzo's alarm systems would not have prevented him. On his own authority he could have held Dr Fell without charging him for long enough to determine his identity.
Fingerprinting at Questura headquarters would have revealed within ten minutes if Fell was Dr Lecter. PFLP DNA testing would confirm the identification.
All those resources were denied to Pazzi now. Once he decided to sell Dr Lecter, the policeman became a bounty hunter, outside the law and alone. Even the police snitches under his thumb were useless to him, because they would hasten to snitch on Pazzi himself.
The delays frustrated Pazzi, but he was determined. He would make do with these damned Gypsies . . .
“Would Gnocco do it for you, Romula? Can you find him?”
They were in the parlor of the borrowed apartment on the Via de' Bardi, across from the Palazzo Capponi, twelve hours after the debacle in the Church of Santa Croce. A low table lamp lit the room to waist height. Above the light, Pazzi's black eyes glittered in the semidark.
“I'll do it myself, but not with the baby,” Romula said. “But you have to give me ”No. I can't let him see you twice. Would Gnocco do it for you?"
Romula sat bent over in her long bright dress, her full breasts touching her thighs, with her head almost to her knees. The wooden arm lay empty on a chair. In the corner sat the older woman, possibly Romula's cousin, holding the baby. The drapes were drawn. Peering around them through the smallest crack, Pazzi could see a faint light, high in the Palazzo Capponi.
“I can do this, I can change my look until he would not know me. I can-”
“No.”
“Then Esmeralda can do it.”
“No.”
This voice from the corner, the older woman speaking for the first time. “I'll care for your baby, Romula, until I die. I will never touch Shaitan.”
Her Italian was barely intelligible to Pazzi.
“Sit up, Romula,” Pazzi said. “Look at me. Would Gnocco do it for you? Romula, you're going back to Sollicciano tonight. You have three more months to serve. It's possible that the next time you get your money and cigarettes out of the baby's clothes you'll be caught . . . I could get you six months additional for that last time you did it. I could easily have you declared an unfit mother. The state would take the baby. But if I get the fingerprints, you get released, you get two million lire and your record disappears, and I help you with Australian visas. Would Gnocco do it for you?