SIX: SURPRISE

      'You're being very mysterious.' Tin-Tin took the locket from around her neck and handed it over. 'Can't you tell me what you want it for?'
      'Just a little party trick I'm practising for our dinner with Antioni tonight,' Virgil answered. 'I'll give it back safe and sound, don't worry.'
      'A party trick?' Tin-Tin said, curious. 'That doesn't sound like you. But then you've been acting strangely all day: shutting yourself up with Alan's books, and then driving off and not telling us where you were going.'
      'I just wanted to make some telecalls. I thought maybe Antioni could use his influence to keep last night's fiasco out of the papers, and I had to finalise our arrangement with Luigi.' Virgil looked down at the locket. 'Say, hope you hadn't planned on wearing this tonight.'
      'No.' Tin-Tin smiled happily. 'Penelope said I could borrow anything from her wardrobe here, and that includes her spare diamond collection. With a few pins I should be able to manage a little party surprise myself.'

      'Wow!' Alan looked up from his watch as Tin-Tin swept down the steps in a deep blue off-the-shoulder dress and a constellation of tiny brilliants that circled her throat and winked from a small tiara. 'Didn't know we'd be dining with royalty. Lucky we had our tuxedos, we'd sure have been shown up.'
      Virgil frowned. 'We still will be if we're late. Let's get moving. Who's going to drive?'
      'Don't look at me.' Alan shook his head. 'I'm looking forward to trying out signore Antioni's famous red wine, and if the night before last's anything to go by that's not the stuff to take before you get behind a wheel.'
      'I'm not doing it either,' Tin-Tin said decidedly. 'I've got all dressed up, and I'm not going to sit the evening out just so you two can work your way through the wine-cellars.'
      'That just leaves you, Virgil.' Alan grinned. 'It's only fair; guess you already sampled enough of that wine to last you the rest of the vacation. Better stick with grape juice tonight, it's safer.'
      'Now wait a..' Virgil began, but Tin-Tin interrupted him.
      'I know,' she said excitedly, 'none of us have to do it, after all. We'll get Braman to drive. That's one thing Brains did succeed in teaching him.'
      Five minutes later, after a brief but warm discussion and some fine adjustments to the car's control pedals, Braman sat stiffly in the driving seat grasping the wheel in two copper claws. Alan and Virgil stood on opposite sides of the car, regarding the robot with happy satisfaction and open distrust respectively.
      'Now, Braman, are you sure you understand what you have to do?' Alan asked.
      'Drive-car-respond-to-voice-commands. Boil-eggs-for-five-minutes.'
      'No, Braman,' Alan said in alarm, 'You're supposed to be running your driving program now. Forget about the cooking.'
      'Cooking-instructions-erased-from-memory,' the robot responded obediently, as Tin-Tin came down the steps with something in her hand.
      'Are we ready?' she asked. 'Look, I've found one of Parker's old hats, it'll make him look just the part.' She balanced the peaked cap on Braman's tin cranium. 'There, doesn't he look smart? Braman, say Where to, Milady?'
      'Where-to-me-lady.'
      'Mister Antioni's villa, Braman,' Tin-Tin replied, giving a fair imitation of Penelope's precise lisp as she settled into the back seat and held the door open for Alan. 'And you'd better hurry. It's been such a long day at Ascot, and I'm afraid we're rather late.'
      To everyone's surprise the engine roared into life and Braman checked the mirror carefully, then looked slowly to the right and to the left. Virgil jumped hastily into the front passenger seat, Alan said 'Go on, Braman,' and they were off down the gravel drive at a sedate and remarkably steady thirty miles per hour. With the turn onto the road safely negotiated Alan sat back contentedly as the car picked up speed. 'See, Virg? I told you, he's a natural driver. I'm even thinking of taking him with me as my backup man next time I go out to Parola Sands.'
      'I still don't like it,' Virgil said determinedly, eyeing the coppery chauffeur beside him with a frown. 'How'd Brains teach him to drive, anyway? There's only the runway at home, and we don't have a road car.'
      'Oh, he used the simulator,' Tin-Tin replied, 'the one he uses to teach you and the others how to handle new equipment.'
      'That's before we try it for real. I mean what did he actually drive?'
      'Well he didn't, exactly,' Tin-Tin said carelessly. 'There wouldn't have been much point on an island, would there? But the simulator session gave him full marks.'
      'You mean this is the first time he's driven anything?' Virgil turned round, his eyes wide with amazement. 'Here, in Italy, after one simulator session? Alan, you stop him right now, this is crazy. We're all gonna be ki..'
      'Look out!' Tin-Tin shrieked.
      From round a bend in the road ahead of them wheezed the ancient lorry that served the village as bus, mail-van and occasionally hearse. A group of villagers sitting on the rough wooden benches in the back turned their heads to look at the approaching car, and the driver took in its two dinner-jacketed occupants, the diamond-studded décolleté of their companion, and the gleaming figure in the driving seat, faceless under its neat grey cap, with his mouth sagging open in a wide O of disbelief. As his concentration wavered, then deserted him altogether, the autocarro drifted unchecked towards the opposite side of the road, heading straight for them.
      Braman's reaction was exemplary. Kicking the engine into low gear with one metal foot, the robot steered straight for the rapidly diminishing gap between the oncoming lorry and the large outcrop of rock that bordered the road, wriggling the car through with inches to spare. The lorry swayed to a halt, its passengers standing to gape at the departing apparition, and Braman signalled an opinion of the vagaries of human drivers with a staccato burst on the horn and a flash of the car's taillights.
      'Well, Virgil,' Alan said, forcing his voice back down to its normal pitch with an effort, 'Guess you wont be wanting any more proof that Braman can handle a car.'
      'No, thanks.' Virgil turned his head to gaze back down the road to where a dark Alfa Romeo had pulled up on the bend, its driver hooting irritably at the obstruction. 'But there's still one thing that worries me.'
      'What's that?'
      'I don't know how Penelope's ever going to live us down.'

      'Fortune she has beamed on you,' Giuseppe Antioni said, listening to the end of the tale as he handed round the plate of wine-preserved pears. 'Riccardo Orsini he is not the careful driver, he brings for my friend Il Dottore here much business. But your robot he must be the marvel; you must pay millions of lira for such a machine. You are sure he will be safe, waiting outside?'
      'He's better than anything you'd buy in Macys,' Alan admitted, 'but he'll be okay. We left the car by your garage block, out of sight of the road, and Tin-Tin's got his remote control in her bag, just in case. Anyway he wouldn't go off with anyone he didn't know.' He shook his head at the pears. 'Sorry, I couldn't. But it sure was a great meal.'
      'Yeah, it was fantastic.' Virgil sat at the opposite side of the table, beside the wizened shape of Il Dottore, who seemed from the earlier introductions to have no other title, and who had gained a set of immaculate teeth for his dinner engagement. Next to the doctor Alfredo the car salesman alternated cramming pears into his mouth with grinning over his wineglass at Tin-Tin, and in the flickering light of two multi-branched candelabra at the ends of the table four other Italians nodded their agreement on the verdict.
      'It was the best meal we've had since we arrived,' Virgil went on, 'and I've something here by way of thanks.' He drew a slip of paper from his pocket. 'Dad and I were talking about the trouble I caused the night before last, and we were thinking how to put things right. Alan told me the doctor here has some real fast transport; we saw it outside tonight, and it sure looks exciting. But we thought maybe his patients would appreciate something more comfortable, especially in winter, so this is a cheque for a regular paramedic wagon, with all the trimmings.' He handed the slip to Il Dottore, who accepted it with thanks but with obvious mixed feelings. 'Dad transferred the money today, you can draw it anytime.'
      'Bravo!' Antioni clapped his hands. 'Again our town can hold up its head and say it is the safe place to have the accident. Five cases of my finest vintage shall go with you when you leave: it is for your father, he is the great man.'
      Alan nodded. 'He's a real philanthropist. That's why he only stopped half the money out of Virgil's allowance; the rest's his gift. We're just hoping he doesn't find out about last night as well.'
      'Ah,' Antioni said sadly, 'I mean to tell you later, the bad news and the good dinner they make not the good companions in the belly. I speak to Gino at the newspaper, but he say signore Antioni, you take the food from our bambinos' mouths; it is the only story we have in six months. And, he say, it is too late. We already sell it to the World News as the column filler.' He shrugged. 'I am sorry; I try.'
      'The World News?' Alan checked his watch, aghast. 'But that means he'll be reading all about it just about now.'
      'More wine,' Antioni said firmly, 'then music, to drive such troubles away. For years my poor pianoforte he sits in my cold music room with only the woodworm for company, but my friend Virgilio he is the master of the keys. Perhaps he will play for us.'
      'Guess that instrument could want a spot of tuning by now,' Virgil said hastily, 'but I've something else that might be more pleasant to hear.' He stood up, producing the locket and a bulky sheaf of notes. 'It's this after-dinner speech I've prepared. But first maybe you'd let me show you a little party trick I've been working on. Shouldn't take too long.'
      Alan and Tin-Tin stared at the pile of notes in horror and Antioni looked dubious, but the other diners lifted their refilled glasses and sat back, prepared to watch the gioco di mano with a tolerant interest. Virgil hinged the locket open and let it twirl on its chain over the centre of the table so that it flashed with a hypnotic rhythm in the candlelight, then he held it out to Antioni.
      'Okay. It's a vanishing trick, but just to show there's no cheating I'll let Giuseppe check this over before I start.' He waited. 'See anything wrong? Anything that means something to you?' Antioni looked at the locket, peered at the inscription inside, then handed it back with a shrug and a shake of his head. Virgil closed both hands around the silver disc and chain and shifted a little nervously. 'Right, now I'll need some quiet. This is the difficult bit.' He bent his head, his brows lowering in concentration until his eyes were almost invisible. 'Okay, that should do it.' He opened his hands, and Alan scowled and Tin-Tin covered her mouth as a titter of embarrassed amusement ran around the table. The locket lay unaltered on Virgil's upturned palm, but its chain had disappeared without a trace. Virgil shook his head. 'Guess I'm still getting the hang of this. I'll try again, but maybe Giuseppe'd better look the locket over just once more.' Antioni took back the locket and opened it with a slight show of impatience, then he looked up in surprise.
      'But the trinket he is not the same. And my name is here. I do not understand.'
      'Neither do I,' Virgil said, 'not all of it. So maybe it'd be best if I went right on to the speech.' As he reached out for his pile of notes another silver locket, this time with a chain, tumbled suddenly from his cuff and clattered down onto the table. Tin-Tin gasped. On the marble and in Antioni's hand two identical lockets gleamed in the candlelight, each with a tiny fountain and wreath of vine leaves stamped into its face with production-line indistinguishability.
      Virgil shook his head ruefully. 'First thing I've got to do is make a few apologies, and the first one's for that crazy trick. Guess I'll never make a conjuror, but it seemed like an appropriate way to introduce the subject. Second apology's to all of you.' He waved a hand to encompass Antioni, Il Dottore and the other Italians, then he picked up the locket with the chain. 'We told you we were here on vacation, but the truth is we've been doing some treasure hunting too. Some friends of ours found this in northern Italy about a month ago; we guessed the inscription inside referred to some sort of hiding place in San Giuliano, so we came over to take a look. We drew a blank, but if we'd turned anything up you can believe me when I say it would've gone straight to the authorities.' He paused to give Alan a meaningful look. 'And the last apology's to Alan. He's done all the work on this, and I guess I didn't take his ideas too seriously, but something happened last night to change my mind. I found that locket Giuseppe's holding, and I found it in your fountain, though I didn't exactly know I'd got it at the time. There's an inscription in there too, and if you put the two together it makes a pretty clever key. I don't know about gold or jewels; there may even be something it's not too pleasant to find, but I believe something's been hidden, and not at San Giuliano.' He sat down and spread out the sheaf of papers. 'I figure it's right here, in Monte Thesauri.'
      'But what about the inscription?' Alan stared. 'And the map? It all fitted.'
      'Sure, it seemed that way without the other locket. Sorry I kept you in the dark, Alan, but after you'd given up on the treasure I wanted to be sure of some facts before I got anyone's hopes up again. Now, if you all take a look at these drawings I've made it'll show you what I've managed to figure out so far.'
      Il Dottore produced a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and leaned over to blink at the sketches, and the rest of the diners clustered round Virgil's chair. One sheet of paper bore a copy of the inscription and intersecting lines from Tin-Tin's locket, and on a second the cryptic message