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‘Yes. I’m curious to know why Sala has been so fixated on it,’ I said. ‘What do you think of it, as an architect?’

‘I used to think it was an appalling waste of time and money, but I’ve come to see it as a remarkable achievement. I’ve been looking forward to visiting when it opens. But how do you think this will help us find Sala?’

‘She wouldn’t have left without giving someone a way to contact her. Giosuè Barraco might be that person. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I have.’

‘You could be right. Barraco is like a father to Sala,’ Verca said. ‘He’s often on-site, I hear. We can try.’

She led me down from the hill. We passed a sun-baked field of ruins, the ones Sala had agreed not to touch.

The entrance to the Forum was an enormous marble archway, covered in flowers. We both slowed at the sight of the three armed soldiers guarding it. That seemed like overkill.

‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ Verca said. ‘Can I ask a small favour?’

They eyed her in questioning silence. I couldn’t tell if they were amaurotic or voyant.

‘I know the Forum isn’t open yet, but I was invited to work on the site when I studying at the University of Florence, and I’ve been curious ever since.’ Verca sounded as calm as if she was talking to her best friends, not three large men with rifles. ‘Is there any chance I could speak to the site administrator, to ask if my friend and I could have a look inside?’

The soldiers exchanged glances.

‘Okay,’ one of them finally said. ‘Do you have proof of your invitation?’

‘Yes.’ Verca withdrew an envelope from her briefcase. ‘It’s signed by Signor Barraco.’

The soldier unfolded the letter. After reading it, he concluded, ‘You may come in, but not her.’

He spoke as if I wasn’t there. Verca looked at me, letting me decide what to do, and I gave her a subtle nod. She would have to take charge of this search.

‘All right,’ Verca said, turning back to the soldiers. ‘Can my friend wait here?’

The nearest of the guards nodded. He led Verca under the archway, while the others stayed at their posts. I sat on a bench in the shade of an orange tree.

Verca was gone for a long time. I waited, growing more and more uncomfortable in the heavy warmth. At last, a dark-haired woman emerged from the Forum and came up to the bench.

‘You speak Italian, or English?’

‘English,’ I said.

‘Veronika sent me. She is still waiting for her meeting with the site administrator,’ she said, ‘so she may be a while longer. Would you prefer to wait here or leave?’

‘I’ll wait,’ I said. ‘I could use some water, though. Do you mind?’

‘Of course. Do come through.’

‘Non posso farla entrare,’ the soldier reminded her.

‘Vuole solo bere qualcosa,’ she said. ‘La porterò dentro solo per poco. Smettila di fare lo stronzo.’

‘E va bene.’ He shrugged. ‘Se qualcuno chiede, è entrata di nascosto.’

He stood aside. I followed the woman under the archway, past a limestone wall, which formed one side of a building. She showed me to a drinking fountain.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘No problem. It’s hot today,’ she said. ‘Once you’re done, just leave the way you came.’

She walked away. I was going to have to lap at the fountain like a cat, which wasn’t ideal for someone with my debilitating fear of water, but I was parched enough to consider it.

‘Paige,’ a voice whispered. Verca was leaning around the corner of the building. ‘They’re letting me see the administrator. Come with me. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.’