Page 93 of Homeport

“Who knows?”

“Too complicated. Sit down a minute.” Her voice was a whisper, as suited churches and conspiracies. “Giovanni, the bronze. The Dark Lady—it was a forgery.”

“Miranda, my English comes and goes, but to be a forgery makes it necessary to have something to forge. The bronze was a fake, a bad joke, a . . .” He groped for a word. “Bad luck,” he decided. “The authorities have questioned the plumber, but it appears he was no more than a dupe. Is this the word? Someone hoped to pass the statue off as genuine, and nearly succeeded.”

“It was genuine.”

He took her hands. “I know this is difficult for you.”

“You saw the test results.”

“Sì, but . . .”

It hurt, seeing both doubt and suspicion in the eyes of a friend. “Do you think I doctored them?”

“I think there were mistakes. We moved too fast, all of us. Miranda—”

“The pace doesn’t alter the results. That bronze was real. This one is a forgery.” She reached down and brought the wrapped bronze to the top of the bag.

“What is this?”

“It’s the copy. The one Ponti tested.”

“Dio mio! How did you get it?” His voice rose on the question, causing a few heads to turn. Wincing, he leaned closer and whispered. “It was being held in the Bargello.”

“That’s not important. What is important is that this is not the bronze we worked on. You’ll be able to see that for yourself. Once you have it in the lab.”

“In the lab? Miranda, what madness is this?”

“This is sanity.” She had to cling to that. “I’m barred from Standjo. The records are all there, Giovanni, the equipment is there. I need your help. There’s a bronze David in this bag as well. It’s a forgery. I’ve already tested it. But I want you to take them both in, examine them, run what tests you can. You’ll compare the results of the Fiesole Bronze with the ones that were run on the original. You’ll prove it’s not the same bronze.”

“Miranda, be sensible. Even if I do as you ask, I’ll only prove you were wrong.”

“No. You get my notes, your own. Richard’s. You run the tests, you compare. We couldn’t all have been wrong, Giovanni. I’d do it myself, but there are complications.”

She thought of Ryan, furious, tearing the city apart to find her and the bronzes. “And running them myself won’t convince anyone. It needs to be objective. I can’t trust anyone but you.”

She squeezed his hands, knowing she played on his weakness for friendship. She could have stopped the tears that swam into her eyes, but they were genuine. “It’s my reputation, Giovanni. It’s my work. It’s my life.”

He cursed softly, then winced when he remembered where he was, quickly added a prayer and the sign of the cross.

“This will only make you unhappy.”

“I can’t be any more unhappy. For friendship, Giovanni. For me.”

“I’ll do what you ask.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as her heart swelled with gratitude. “Tonight, right away.”

“The sooner it’s done, the better. The lab, it’s closed for a few days, so no one will know.”

“Closed, why?”

He smiled for the first time. “Tomorrow, my lovely pagan, is Good Friday.” And this was not the way he’d intended to spend his holiday weekend. He sighed, nudged the bag with his foot. “Where will I reach you when it’s done?”

“I’ll reach you.” She leaned forward to touch her lips to his. “Grazie, Giovanni. Mille grazie. I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“An explanation when it’s done would be a fine start.”

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