"Tom. It's urgent."
"All right. Tomorrow, one o'clock, as usual. Lunch at Il Bosco," Caltabieni said and hung up the phone.
Shortly after they were both seated, Ron turned to Caltabieni urgently. "I'm in hot water," he said. "I need your help."
"You're in hot water!" Resentment filled Caltabieni's voice. "I gave you the information on the whereabouts of Tanya Caldwell, alias Tanya Howard. I thought you'd be satisfied, and I thought you'd be cautious. At the least, I thought you'd be discreet." Caltabieni turned away from Ron Withley, contempt in his eyes. "But no. Oh, no. You had to contact Charles Aldrin and invite him here, at headquarters, no less. You had some nerve…"
"I never brought him into your office, though…"
"Well, thanks for small favors! You had no way to enter my office. Of course, the meetings weren't in my office."
"Try to understand. At the beginning, everything had to look legitimate, or Charles Aldrin wouldn't have come." They stopped arguing and briskly ordered their lunch.
Caltabieni glanced at Ron with suspicion, after the waiter left. "Now what's wrong? What's your big problem?"
"Wait. Do you remember a sketch you admired, a beautiful sketch by Modigliani? The last time we were in Paris together? At the little gallery near the mosque?"
They were both silent as a waiter promptly served them each a dish of funghi trifolati.
"Do you remember?" Ron asked again.
"Vaguely," said Caltabieni glancing around.
"It's called 'The Picture That Could Never Be,' because of the death of the model. Do you remember it now?"
"Do you mean 'The Woman in the Blue Veils'? It's almost as good as a finished picture!"
"Yes, that's the one. I'll be glad to offer it to you, simply because you're my friend, and for the previous favor you did for me."
"Well…perhaps we should forget the past," Caltabieni said. He concentrated on the mushrooms freshly picked from the mountain, savoring each forkful.
"Great. Consider The Woman in the Blue Veils hanging on the wall of your living room," Ron said.
Caltabieni dabbed at his lips with his napkin. "What did you want to see me for?" He pushed his plate, completely empty, away from him.
Ron shook his head as two waiters came toward their table with coffee and trays of pastry. "There's a crowd around us, Tom. The restaurant is packed, and yet, the waiters seem to have plenty of time for us. There is someone near our table at all times."