Betrayal of Trust. J. A. Jance
barely changed since the Emperor Nero’s day. Cupping the gold bowl lovingly in his hands, Klimt imagined that legendary, insane, all-powerful man making this very same journey, leaving the stresses of Rome behind for the peace and pleasures of the countryside. Roberto Klimt felt a sublime kinship with Nero in this moment. The priceless gold artefact in his lap belonged to him for a reason. It was meant to be his. The pleasure and pride that that one bowl brought him was immense.
He wondered when, exactly, ‘Anthony Duval’ and his accomplices would make their move on his apartment. Roberto Klimt imagined the scene. The alarms ringing out across the Via Veneto, the metal grilles slamming shut, the police, already waiting in force in the surrounding streets and alleyways moving in for the kill. He smiled.
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