Soul of the Assassin by Jim DeFelice, Larry Bond Page B

kept her thoughts, not particularly charitable, to herself as she followed Lashley into the residence.
     
    “Burn giorno, signor ambasciatore ,” said an Italian, gliding across the tiled foyer as Lashley entered. “The ambassador is just finishing up his business.”
     
    The Italian’s eyes found Corrine.
     
    “Ms. Alston? Si? Such a beautiful woman to be working as counsel to the President,” continued the aide, who swept his hand to the side and bowed slightly at the waist. “Beauty and intelligence—America is a wonderful country.”
     
    “The ambassador’s aide, Luigi Prima,” said Lashley.
     
    “Pleased to meet you,” said Corrine, holding out her hand to shake.
     
    Prima took it and raised it to his lips as he bowed still lower, kissing it. “So wonderful to meet you.”
     
    “He’s a bit over-the-top, even for the Italians,” said Lashley after Prima showed them to a study to wait for the ambassador. “But I imagine you get a lot of that.”
     
    “A lot of what?”
     
    “Men fawning over you?”
     
    “I really don’t.”
     
    Lashley didn’t believe it. The President’s counsel—the daughter of McCarthy’s closest friend—was a beautiful woman, pretty much what you’d expect for someone whose mother had been a movie actress. Corrine might be wearing a dark blue suit, plain on anyone else, yet on her it could have been an evening gown.
     
    “Undersecretary Lashley, good to see you, my friend,” said the Italian ambassador as he entered the room. Corrine and Lashley rose. Ambassador Rossi was a short man with jet-black hair combed straight back on his head. Like his aide, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and exuded a slight scent of cologne. His walk was a strut, his head and chest jutting forward; he strode with confidence and just the slightest hint that he was in a hurry.
     
    “Ms. Alston, the President’s counsel, so nice to meet you,” he said, taking her hand.
     
    “Thank you.” Corrine was relieved that he simply shook her hand.
     
    “Maybe you will join us for lunch?” said the ambassador.
     
    “I’m afraid I don’t have the time,” Corrine told him.
     
    “A pity.” The ambassador turned toward the door. “Bring some coffee please,” he said, though it appeared no one was there.
     
    “The reason we’ve come, Mr. Ambassador—,” started Corrine.
     
    “Wait now; you’ll have some coffee first.”
     
    “I really don’t want to waste your time,” she said. “I know you’re very busy.”
     
    “Ah.” He waved his hand and sat down. “I am not busy for a representative of the President. Sit. Stay.”
     
    “It’s a very grave matter,” said Corrine. She gave a brief outline of the possible plot the CIA had discovered, leaving out any information about the operation that had discovered it.
     
    The ambassador’s smile quickly turned to a frown.
     
    “The President is greatly concerned,” said Corrine. “He has sent several officers to the city to help in any way that they can. He realizes that their presence may be very politically sensitive.”
     
    “And what exactly was the nature of the operation that developed this information?” asked the ambassador. “It did not come out of the blue, I imagine.”
     
    “No,” said Corrine. “It was standard intelligence gathering, but I’m not prepared to go into details about it at this time.”
     
    “I see.” The ambassador’s tone indicated otherwise.
     
    “It is of a secondary nature, certainly compared to this,” said Lashley.
     
    “Another rendition?” The ambassador stared at Corrine. “That is why the President sends his personal lawyer?”
     
    “I’m here because the President wanted to convey his deep concern,” said Corrine. “To emphasize how seriously he takes the matter. It was not related to a rendition.”
     
    The ambassador smirked. “But, of course, if there is a legal concern, you will be in a position to handle it.”
     
    “Hopefully, it