“I understand.”
The landline phone rang in the front hall.
Luca appeared in the kitchen doorway a moment later. He’d clearly been on his way to bed; his shirt was untucked and he was carrying his watch loosely in one hand. He went to the phone and lifted the receiver.
“Yes?”
I followed to observe from a comfortable distance. Dominic joined us. Luca listened.
He covered the mouthpiece. “Dominic. It’s Celeste.”
Dominic extended his hand and took the receiver. “Yes, Celeste.”
We could hear the tone of her voice from across the room. Warm, but pointed.
Dominic listened. He smiled briefly.
“Backstage?” he asked.
I signaled for Eamon to join me.
Dominic listened for a few more seconds. “I see,” he said calmly.
He lowered the receiver and looked at me. “Celeste would like backstage access tomorrow evening.”
“For herself?” I asked.
“And a guest.”
“Name?”
Dominic returned the receiver to his ear. “Celeste,” he said, with the gentle patience of a man who had been having this kind of conversation with her for fifty years, “Thiago would like to know the name of your guest.”
He listened.
The faint smile returned. “She would prefer not to say.”
“That won’t work.”
Dominic relayed the statement. Celeste’s reply was audible across the kitchen, not the words, but the texture.
Dominic exhaled through his nose. “Celeste has supported this orchestra for three decades,” he said to me. “She has attendedmore backstage gatherings than most of the musicians who perform in the concerts. If she wishes to bring a guest to the greenroom before the concert, I see no reason to refuse.”
“I can’t approve access for someone we can’t identify. Not tomorrow night.”
“She is not applying for a security clearance,” Dominic said. “She is asking for courtesy extended to a trusted friend.”
“Courtesy doesn’t change the risk profile of an unvetted individual in a restricted space.”
Celeste spoke again on the other end of the line. Dominic listened and nodded. “We will discuss it in the morning.”
He hung up.
Eamon lifted his mug. “Interesting request for the evening before a concert.”
“Yes,” I said.
Dominic tucked his shirt in. “She is, occasionally, spectacularly stubborn,” he said. “It’s one of her finer qualities.” He turned toward the hall. “Goodnight, gentlemen. I’m retiring to the study for the rest of my evening. Try to get some sleep.”
