Mazzare took a sip of his own wine, which had also come from Nasi. Francisco had ordered several barrels sent to the embassy at his own expense. They’d already been here when the mission arrived.
The wine was good; full-bodied and with a sweet undertone that wasn’t sickly like so much of the wine they got in Germany. “Delicious,” he pronounced. “I must remember to thank Francisco when I send my first message home. Speaking of which—”
He broke off, remembering the need for security. Smoothly, understanding his quandary, Sharon Nichols stepped forward and engaged Luzzatto’s attention. Mazzare took the opportunity to move away a few steps and speak softly into Heinzerling’s ear. “Gus, how are the radio people doing?”
Heinzerling put his glass down. “I can find out,” he said. “I left them untangling wires in the attic.”
He spoke as softly as Mazzare. No one really knew if all the capabilities of Americans with radio were still a secret from Europe’s princes. But so long as there remained the possibility that the USE’s enemies still thought that enormous towers were needed for the devices, they would do their best to keep the knowledge limited. Although Melissa Mailey and her party were imprisoned in the Tower of London, they still had the means to communicate with home. If Charles I—the Earl of Strafford, more likely—ever got wind of the full capability of American radio . . .
He would surely have their quarters in the Tower subjected to a rigorous search—something he had avoided doing so far.
“Please,” said Mazzare. “Tell them there’s no pressure, I should simply like to know if I can send a message in tonight’s transmission window or whether it should wait.”
Heinzerling left, padding with that silent gait that went so oddly with his burly physique.
Mazzare moved back to Luzzatto’s side. “Speaking of negotiations, do we yet have a program of discussions with Messer il Doge?”
“Ah.” Luzzatto set down his glass and pulled his briefcase from under his arm. “It was for this reason I came to visit.” He took out papers and began sorting through them.
“Perhaps we should take a moment to read through . . .” Mazzare broke off, when he saw the amount of paper involved.
“No, Monsignor. These are simply notes, of my own. I find I grow absentminded as I age.”
Luzzatto gave a dry little chuckle. Mazzare hoped he was joking. As well as being small and narrow, the lawyer was remarkably baby-faced, giving the impression that he was in his twenties. The life story Nasi had given Mazzare, though, put Luzzatto somewhere nearer to forty.
“Ah,” Luzzatto went on. “I am absentminded again. There are some matters for you to attest as plenipotentiary for the United States, the rental of this palazzo and so forth”—he set aside a bundle of documents—”and I shall leave these for you to examine at your leisure. There is no rush before the beginning of Lent, which is some time away yet. Then it will be needful to have your contracts signed.”
Mazzare nodded, although he did not relish the thought of reading that pile of legalese in what was rapidly becoming his fourth language after English, German and Latin. Perhaps better to get onto a more immediate subject. “I understand that the diplomacy begins this evening with a reception at the palazzo ducale?”
“This is at once true, and not true, Monsignor. The reception will be to allow the members of the Consiglio to take a look at you and for each to pass some moments, perhaps, in conversation. Nothing can be done or will be done without a vote, and they dislike to act on any vote that does not have a majority of seventy or so.”
“Seventy?” Jones had his eyebrows raised. “We have to convince seventy people of everything? I thought it was the doge and a few councillors—ten, wasn’t it?”
“Again, Signor Jones, this is at once true and not true. The government of Venice is a complicated thing, and different kinds of decisions require different decision makers. Messer il Doge can decide very little himself; he has influence, not power. Many other decisions require him to act with various other bodies, depending on whether it is to do with the Rialto, the city, the Terrafirma, or foreign matters. There are differences for the Empire and for foreign Christian princes. I could not possibly explain all of these conveniently now, signor, although perhaps we might spare a few days at some point?” Luzzatto looked as though he meant it. Mazzare began to speculate, briefly, how much a top-flight commercial attorney in the up-time U.S. would charge to devote his time to a client like this, and that led him to just how deep the Nasi and Abrabanel commitment to the USE actually was. They were spending money like water.