'No…'

'The position gave him direct access to the inner workings of the Holy See. Among them, the pope's itinerary. His engagements – where, when, for how long. Who his guests would be. Where he would enter and exit what building. The security arrangements. Swiss Guards or police or both, how many – Father Daniel never mentioned things like that?'

'I told you, we weren't close.'

Pio studied him. 'Why?'

Harry didn't respond.

'You hadn't spoken to your brother for eight years. What was the reason?'

'There's no point getting into it.'

'It's a simple question.'

'I told you. Some things just build up over time. It's old business. Family things. It's boring. Hardly about murder.'

For a moment Pio did nothing, then picked up his glass and took a drink of mineral water. 'Is this your first time in Rome, Mr Addison?'

'Yes.'

'Why now?'

'I came to bring his body home… No other reason. The same as I said before.'

Harry felt Pio starting to push, the way Roscani had earlier, looking for something definitive. A contradiction, a diverting of the eyes, a hesitation. Anything to suggest Harry was holding something back or was flat out lying.

'Ispettore Capo!'

The waiter came grinning, as he had before. Making room on the table for four steaming platters, setting them between the men, chattering in Italian.

Harry waited for him to finish, and when he left, looked at Pio directly. 'I'm telling you the truth. And have been all along… Why don't you keep your promise and tell me what you haven't, the particulars of why you think my brother was involved in the cardinal's murder?'

Steam rose from the platters, and Pio gestured for Harry to help himself. Harry shook his head.