Lazarus by Morris West

Author:Morris West
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781760638351
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2017-07-11T04:00:00+00:00

Nine

Omar Asnan’s villa on the Old Appian Way had cost him a mint of money. Situated on the most expensive stretch of the ancient road, between the tomb of Cecilia Metella and the crossroad to Tor Carbone, it was a hotchpotch of constructions that dated from Roman times to the twentieth century.

A high blank wall, topped with broken glass, hid it from the road and from the open fields of the campagna behind it. The garden with its swimming-pool and tubs of flowering plants was shaded by tall cypresses and spreading pines. It was also patrolled at night by an armed watchman and a pair of Dobermanns.

One special feature of the house was a square watch-tower, built around a chimney, from which it was possible to survey the Appia Antica in both directions, watch the shepherds grazing their herds in the campagna and look clear across the rooftops of other villas to the apartment of EUR.

The second feature, an unexpected bonus for Omar Asnan, was the cellar, vaulted and bricked in reticulated stone, which dated back to the same period as the nearby Circus of Maxentius. There was nothing unusual about the cellar itself, but a loose slab in the floor had revealed a set of ten steps that led to a tunnel. The tunnel, dug into the friable tufa rock, ran fifty metres across the campagna and opened into a large, circular chamber lined with great earthenware pots which had once been used to store grain. The air was foul, but the place was bone dry, and it was the simplest thing in the world to install a ventilating system with intake and outlet hidden in the garden shrubbery.

So, Omar Asnan – thanks to Allah, the just and the merciful! – had found himself endowed with a storeroom for special merchandise like guns, grenades and drugs, a conference room hidden from prying eyes, and a safe house to hold friends or enemies. It was here that he met with his four most trusted lieutenants to discuss the disappearance of Miriam Latif from the International Clinic.

They sat on cushions set about a carpet, two on either side, with Omar Asnan presiding. He was a small, dark man, put together as neatly as a manikin, with eloquent hands and a ready smile. His speech was brisk and businesslike.

‘This is what we have been able to confirm in twenty-four hours. At three in the afternoon I myself called Miriam at the clinic to set up a meeting here. She agreed. She said she could easily arrange the time off at the end of the day. She would drive into Rome to do some shopping and see me on the way back.’

He turned to the man on his right.

‘You remember all this, Khalid. You were here with me.’

‘I remember.’

We arranged to have dinner here, in the villa. She never arrived.’

‘Clearly she was -’

‘Please!’ Asnan raised a warning hand. ‘Please, let us discuss what we know, not what we think we know. Miriam never arrived here.

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