Free Midnight Angels by Lorenzo Carcaterra

father were brilliant at locating lost or stolen treasures.”
    “And as great as they both were, you have surpassed them,” the man said, his thin lips parting slightly, coming close to breaking a smile. “The Vittoria Society has grown in power and prestige under your leadership.”
    “Perhaps,” Edwards said, acknowledging the compliment with a small nod. “But we are no match for her. We each depended on a vast network of informants and allies. Local Art Squads. Insurance agents. And then there were times when we simply took advantage of mistakes made by our competitors.”
    “And she’ll need to do all that as well,” the man said.
    “True,” Edwards said. “But she brings with her that extra dimension we all lacked. A kind of internal radar every treasure hunter wishes he possessed.”
    The man smirked. “How can you be so certain?”
    “It’s been there from the time she was a child,” Edwards said, doing little to hide the rush of pride he felt, his face more animated now, his gestures becoming more dramatic. “We would spend hours poring over her parents’ volumes of notes. With only a few hints, she would arrive at sound conclusions.” He smiled. “She favored conversations that focused on Michelangelo.”
    “Why do you suppose that is?” the man asked.
    “He is as real to her as I am,” Edwards said. “She has never seen him as a famous man from one of her textbooks. To her, he remains very much alive and very human. He is also the thread through which she can reach out to her parents. She has read so much about him, spent so many years studying his works and his methods. She has studied her parents’ accounts of his documents, absorbed their opinions, and formulated a few of her own.”
    “Her own?” the man asked.
    “Neither her parents nor I ever bothered to look beyond the artist to seek out the man,” Edwards said. “It seemed to us much easier to let the work speak for itself. Kate simply allowed the man to lead her through and to the work.”
    “And this will lead her to a discovery that others have been incapable of finding for decades?” the man asked.
    “I have little choice but to believe it,” Edwards said. “And as a member of the Society, you would be wise to at least profess to the same.”
    The man looked away from Edwards and managed a slow nod. “What do you need me to do?”
    “Be ready,” Edwards said. “It is now up to Kate to decide our next move. Assuming that she won’t walk away with empty hands, we must be well positioned to help.”
    “And you’ll stay here?” the man asked.
    Professor Edwards stood and stared down at the ebbing fire. “When the time is right,” he said, “I’ll be in Florence. The Raven and I have waited too long to complete our business.”

CHAPTER
10
    B UCA MARIO SITS IN THE CENTER OF PIAZZA OTTAVIANI IN ONE of the quietest streets in all of Florence. The restaurant has been there, in the cellars of Palazzo Niccolini, since the early months of 1886, serving local cuisine at local prices to students, tourists, and longtime residents alike. The owners, a handsome husband and wife duo straight out of an early Marcello Mastroianni and Sophia Loren comedy, are always the first to greet any visitors to their sanctum of fine wine and excellent food. They are never without a warm smile, a big embrace, and a desire to end your evening on a happy note.
    It was one of three such restaurants Marco had introduced Kate to soon after her arrival in Florence, understanding that, above all else, a young woman far from home would need a few very special places she would be able to call her own. And Buca Mario quickly became such a place for Kate.
    She loved the fact that it seemed buried under the palazzo, a three-stone-step drop to the door that led into a large restaurant bustling with waiters in white jackets and patrons in casual wear, the smells of the homemade pastas and sauces and fresh grilled meats warming the air and helping to