Path Of The Assassin

On top of everything else, the man was very friendly and loved to speak English. It was not hard to draw him into gossipy conversation, especially about the famous people who came to eat in his restaurant.

The owner insisted on starting Harvath and Meg with a Caprese salad while they talked. When the dish arrived and Harvath took his first bite, it was easily the best mozzarella he had ever tasted. The owner could see the look on his face and was very pleased. He bragged about how he had a special source on the island for all of his cheese. Meg, clever woman that she was, brought the owner back around to talking about his clients. She shared with him that a woman they had met while out to drinks one night had recommend his restaurant. The minute she described Adara the man’s eyes lit up.

“Che bella donna!” he exclaimed. “She has the eyes of silver, just like you say. The most beautiful woman who has ever come to eat at Al Grottino, after you of course, Signora.”

“So you know her?” took up Harvath, acting casual and only mildly interested.

“She has been here many times.”

“The lady must enjoy your cooking very much.”

“Oh, very much,” replied the owner. “Many times she asks me for my recipes and how can I say no to such a beautiful woman?” He shot Meg a quick, flirtatious glance. “The only thing I ask is that she not begin her own restaurant here on Capri. No one would come to see my face anymore.”

Now Meg got back into the conversation. “She is such an elegant woman. Don’t you think?”

“Very elegant and very beautiful,” said the owner.

“Does she own a villa here? I would imagine it is quite impressive.”

“No. No villa. She comes to visit and stays in the hotel.”

“Of course. The Quisisana,” said Meg with a smile.

“No, the Capri Palace in Anacapri. Last night she was here for dinner with a very handsome American man-”

“We’ll have to keep our eyes out for them. We’re staying at the Capri Palace also. I might know the man she was with,” said Harvath as he described Marcel Hamdi from Schoen’s surveillance photos.

“No. This man, he’s tall like the woman, bello, but blond hair. We say in Italian, con un pizzo,” said the owner, rubbing his chin.

“Ah, with a goatee,” said Meg.

“Ecco. It’s your first time to Capri?” asked the owner, changing the subject.

“My first. She has been here before,” said Harvath as he nodded to Meg.

“Bella donna. You have not eaten in my restaurant before?”

“No,” responded Meg. “This is my first time.”

“Then I will make for you something special. I have a nice gnocchi for your husband, and for you I make a linguine ai gamberetti. A special shrimps with tomato sauce, good?”

“Sounds delicious,” said Meg.

“Maybe also a nice wine. Something dry, but not too expensive. Okay?”

“Bene.”

“Lei parla l’italiano!”

“Yes, but my…” said Meg as she hestitated, “my husband does not.”

“Perffeto. We can make our plans and he will never know,” said the owner with a conspiratorial wink as he went to place their orders in the kitchen.

Soon after, the lunch crowd picked up and the owner was quite busy. When he stopped by their table to check on how they had enjoyed their meals, Harvath took the opportunity to ask one more question. “The food was wonderful. We will have to buy the lady who told us about your restaurant a cocktail.” If the owner wasn’t suspicious already, he would be soon, but Harvath felt he had to push just a little bit further. “I wish we knew her name. Do you by any chance?”

“I’m sorry, no. Allora, il caffè?” said the owner, indicating that the subject was closed for good.

Meg ordered her customary cappuccino, and Harvath, a double espresso, which they finished quickly. As soon as they paid their check and left the restaurant, they walked as fast as they could to the cabstand just off the Piazzetta.

60

The open-air taxi brought them to the small yet bustling heart of Anacapri. Perched on a low hill above the town square was the five-star Capri Palace. It was accessible via a series of steps followed by a short walkway winding past the lower half of the hotel swimming pool. Glass windows along the walk, much like a large-scale aquarium, allowed people to peer through the water and watch the guests as they swam above.

Stores around the piazza sold everything from sandals, sunscreen, and beach towels, to local ceramics, film, and postcards. Harvath and Meg secreted themselves just inside one of the shops that had a good view of the hotel’s imposing white façade. Meg pretended to look for postcards while Harvath studied the tanned faces of the throngs of tourists milling around the piazza. They were everywhere-like ants crawling over an enormous hill of sugar. Harvath thought about using his binoculars to try and catch a glimpse of the guests around the pool, but being downhill from the hotel made it impossible. They needed to get closer.