Heirs Book Two: American Lady (24 page)

“Why do you think they picked Altobello for
this operation, Gilles?”

“I don’t know, your Highness and I must
admit that it worries me. I’m concerned that I and my officers are
missing something crucial which will have an impact on
Altobello.”

Maixent nodded his head in sympathy. He felt
similarly. He considered laying out the facts before his father.
But he hated to think of King Henri’s reaction. Two days after the
dinner party Henri was still raging about Lorenzo’s perfidy in
tricking him into agreeing to the documentary on Altobello. Maixent
had been worried that the situation would stress his father’s
flagging health, but in fact his fury seemed to have spurred new
life into him.

Henri had had another meeting with Lorenzo
yesterday to nut out some of the boundaries of the documentary and
both men were determined to get the best out the guidelines as they
each insisted that everything be laid out in black and white and a
contract signed before filming began so that neither one could back
out of what had been agreed. In an unaccustomed spurt of energy
Henri had been onto the palace lawyers, demanding they call in
experts from Paris to give legal counsel about film contracts,
resolving not to let Lorenzo have the upper hand in their
negotiations. Maixent had not seen his father so enlivened for
years and concluded that far from endangering his health the
documentary debacle had given him a new lease on life.

But before he loaded his father’s plate with
this money-laundering business, he wanted the chance to investigate
further.

“What about Cesare Cabrini?” Maixent asked.
He had looked many times at the photo of the man, taking note of
the finely shaped nose, the disdainful set of the lips, the heavy
wrinkling around the deepset eyes, and the white wolf pelt of hair
that crowned the aristocratic features. Had that chance meeting in
April really been just a bizarre coincidence?

“Ah, yes, the mysterious Monsieur Cesare
Cabrini, who seems to be exactly who he says he is.” Beaucopas
threw up his hands.

“You checked with the American police?”
Maixent enquired intently.

“Indeed. I have a very thorough dossier on
him since his arrival in Chicago in the late 1950s, one of the many
Italian immigrants coming to that country after World War Two. In
the early 60s he studied English and went to night school to get a
high school diploma which allowed him to go to college. In 1968 he
graduated from the University of Chicago Graduate School of
Business with a Masters of Business Administration and his
specialty seems to have been finance.”

“How old is he?” Maixent enquired
curiously.

“Let me see,” Beaucopas flipped through his
notes. “He would have been about thirty-eight at the time he
graduated, so he must be mid-fifties now. He appears to be very
good at what he does. After graduating he worked for a variety of
companies in Chicago including the Federal Reserve Bank and the
Chicago Stock Exchange and Board of Trade. In 1981 he set himself
up in his own consulting business and seems to have gone from
strength to strength. Apparently, Cabrini specializes in
interest-rate futures, very risky dealings in high finance and risk
hedging. He jets all over the world advising large corporations,
but a majority of his clientele are Japanese businessmen.”

“And no Mafia links at all?” Maixent asked
desperately. “I can see a man with his financial astuteness would
be a real bonus to the Mafia in these circumstances.”

Beaucopas’ forehead ridged and his hangdog
mouth drooped even further. “Nothing on the radar. The closest I
can come is that Falcone advised me that there is a Guiseppe
Cabrini suspected of being involved in the high-level Mafia at
Palmero in Sicily.”

Maixent sat up straighter, his face
brightening. “Gilles, what a link!”

“Not so fast, your Highness. A family link
is not confirmed. All I can confirm is that these two men share the
same name. It is not an unpopular Italian surname.”

“Okay, you’re saying there’s no paper trail
linking these two, but can we find another lead. For instance,
where did Cesare Cabrini immigrate from?”

Beaucopas went back to his notes, flipping
through pages while Maixent finished his coffee and began nibbling
at a slice of tiramisu.

“I haven’t been provided with that
information, your Highness.”

“It might be important, Gilles. Try to find
out. If he is originally from Palmero I think the odds are in favor
of a family link.”

“For all we know, if there is a family link
he might have left Sicily precisely to cut ties with the
Mafia.”

“Let’s establish a connection first. Now,
what about Cabrini’s activities since he’s been in Altobello? How
long has he been here now?”

“My two operatives have been keeping an eye
on his hotel for nearly six weeks now and tracking the radio
transmitter we attached to his rental car. He appears to be
genuinely who he says he is and doing what he says he wanted to do
– relax by the hotel pool, enjoy himself sightseeing and search for
properties to buy. Until last week he didn’t even enter a bank. He
has used his gold Carte Bleue to withdraw money from the Bancomats
and appears to pay that way or through cash. So his transactions
are not readily traceable.

“Last Tuesday he opened an account in his
own name in the Credit and Commerce International in the amount of
one hundred thousand US dollars. Nothing untoward in that if he
plans to buy property here. The red flag is that the money was wire
transferred from a Panama account. And before you ask, no it’s not
the same Panama account wiring money to the other accounts we are
monitoring,” Beaucopas reported.

“Gilles, have you been checking his
activities with the SBT? Is he genuinely looking for property?”
Purchase of land in Altobello was strictly controlled by the
Societé de Banque Territoriale, better known as the SBT, the agency
also responsible for regulating business licences in the
kingdom.

Beaucopas raised his hand to ward off
Maixent’s enthusiasm and nodded his head. “Yes, your Highness. I’ve
had an operative staking out the SBT building and Cabrini did
indeed visit and from what my operative could inconspicuously
discover he filled out the appropriate paperwork and also managed
to have a personal meeting with the chairman, Count Yves de
Renrocher. I presume he rated that personal touch because he is
looking for property worth substantial value.

“Two weeks ago Cabrini was picked up from
his hotel one evening in the SBT limousine. One of my operatives
took the initiative of tailing him to the de Renrocher personal
residence. He had dinner there, along with a number of other
Altobesque property owners and visiting prospective buyers. We were
very lucky to stumble upon that bit of news.”

Maixent sat forward. “Give your man a
commendation. Now is it usual for the SBT Chairman to pick clients
up in limousines and have them home to dinner, Gilles?”

“Your Highness, you would have to consult
with the Count himself for that information. My thoughts are that
encouraging like-minded people to meet together and bringing
sellers and buyers together is one of the services that Yves de
Renrocher would provide in his capacity as Chairman of the
Societé.”

“How many times has he met with Yves? And do
we know who else was present at that meeting? I wonder if I could
pump Thiérry for information. I would love to know what he talked
about.” Yves de Renrocher was a distant relative of Henri’s and
Thiérry’s father.

“He’s met with the count just the once that
we have been able to determine. We are tracking his movements
through the radio transmitter we’ve attached to his rental car. But
I wouldn’t mention it to your aide-de-campe, your Highness. As you
said at the beginning of this operation, the fewer people who know,
the less likely there is to be a leak,” Beaucopas advised grimly.
“But if he leaves St Benezet we’re not going to be able to track
his movements unless we share our information with Interpol.”

“Quite right, Gilles, quite right.” Maixent
sat back in his seat. “You’ve brought a lot of information to
digest, Gilles, but at the same time it all raises more questions
than it answers.”

“Indeed your Highness. And yet on the other
hand so much detail of little significance.”

“Gilles, I really feel we need to dig deeper
into Cesare Cabrini’s background. Of course on the surface it looks
above board, but is that the reality?” Maixent could not shake
Cabrini’s haunting image. Was he grasping at straws to think that
Cabrini had links with the Mafia?

“I will try, your Highness, but the American
police may start to question exactly why we’re interested in
Cabrini if we push too hard.”

“Then at least we need to risk a proper tail
on him while he’s on our turf. There could be meetings and events
that we are missing which would shed light on his actions. If
Cabrini rumbles us and complains to the American Embassy we’ll have
to cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m prepared to take the
risk and the potential flak. But we need to know more before he
leaves,” Maixent urged.

Beaucopas nodded his head slowly. “I agree
that we need to know more, but whether or not that is something my
officers can deliver I’m not so sure.”

* * *

Charley followed the directions given her by
the security guard towards Prince Maixent’s office. She had
arranged to meet him for lunch as he was too busy to schedule any
other time to spend with her before she flew back to New York.

As she walked hesitatingly down the corridor
a soft voice called her name.

Queen Leigh’s office was in the same wing as
her son. She had kept her door open on purpose in order to keep an
eye out for Charley when Nikki phoned that morning to advise her of
Charley’s plans. It was an opportunity to talk with Charley and get
Nikki off her back.

Charley paused and Leigh came forward to
greet her.

“Charley, my dear.” She brushed Charley’s
cheek with hers. Dressed in a black suit with large rounded
shoulders, intricate red and gold crystal beading patterning the
lapels, three quarter length sleeves on a wrap around jacket
covering a white lace teddy and a slim fitting skirt slit to
mid-thigh, Leigh looked the picture of Dynasty elegance. “What are
you doing here? Surely that naughty boy of mine isn’t pressing you
into working for him already!” Leigh teased.

“No,” Charley laughed. “I’m meeting Maixent
for lunch at one o’clock.”

Leigh looked at her gold Cartier watch with
its mother of pearl guilloche dial sparkling with diamond numeral
markers and set in a two row diamond bezel round gold case. It was
ten minutes to one. She looked up to find Charley staring at her
watch.

“Your watch is exquisite,” Charley
exclaimed.

Leigh felt a flash of annoyance. Charley was
bound to know the watch cost in excess of thirty thousand dollars,
which would make it harder to convince her the kingdom had monetary
problems. She thought quickly. “Beautiful isn’t it? I thought it
was so gorgeous I couldn’t resist getting it for myself for
Christmas.” She sighed dramatically. “Henri says it’s much too
expensive so I’ll probably have to sell it and get a swatch to
replace it. At least then I’ll match Aurelie. Now, why don’t you
come in and have a quick coffee while you wait? Maixent is bound to
be late. I’ll have Anouk buzz us when he’s free.”

Firmly clutching Charley’s arm, Leigh
directed her towards the suite she used as an office. There was an
outer room where her assistant sat, while an oak paneled door led
into her office and an adjacent chamber which held two comfortable
soft leather sofas on either side of a low, glass-topped coffee
table.

“Really, I don’t have the time for a chat
just now,” Charley objected.

“Nonsense. Anouk will let me know when Maix
is free.” Leigh slumped into the low-lying sofa leaving Charley no
other option but to follow suit. “I thought Lorenzo was so clever
about organizing the documentary. Henri was dead set against Maix’s
idea but I’m sure he’ll be glad once the filming is completed.
Lorenzo thinks it will give Altobello a terrific tourist boost.
Goodness knows we need it!” Leigh laughed.

Charley tried to perch on the edge of the
couch but the leather was too soft and she fell back into its
squishy depths. “Does tourism matter that much to Altobello?”

“My dear, that’s one of the reasons the
Marchessini princes scout around for high-profile, eligible
brides!” Leigh hated herself for saying it, but she was laying it
on with a JCB in order to get Charley to back off from the
engagement and return to America with Nikki.

Charley looked taken aback and it was
obvious she was thinking hard. “Are you saying that Maix only wants
to marry me because of who I am?” she asked incredulously.

Leigh laughed and waved a hand dismissively.
“Of course not, Charley. If he didn’t love you as well there would
be no point. But there’s equally no point in denying that the
publicity accompanying your engagement to Maix will do a
substantial amount to raise Altobello’s profile and bring the
tourists flocking, just as they did when I married Henri. Their
spending significantly helps our economy,” Leigh explained. “You
must realize that European marriages are different to American
matches. Europeans are much more practical than romantic. Why else
do their marriages last so much longer and more happily? It’s
because they take practical considerations into account and don’t
simply marry because they’ve fallen in love. Would you like a drink
before lunch?” Leigh felt she had swamped Charley with enough food
for thought.

Charley shook her head, looking stunned.
“Lorenzo did say that European marriages are different,” she
admitted slowly.