Rosa and her friends are all ready to convert to Islam. They say it's less repressive for women.'
He swallowed some more beer and lit another cigarette.
'On the other hand, of course, the case may never come to court. There seems to be a very encouraging political vacuum at the top these days. People are starting to realize that this 'Clean Hands' mentality is getting out of control.
This sort of inquisitorial moralism is completely alien to our culture. Besides, if you really pursued it to its logical conclusion, you'd have to lock up eighty per cent of the population!'
'Thereby providing jobs as jailers for the other twenty/ Zen put in. 'Who says a managed economy doesn't work?'
Joking aside, Nieddu's position was anything but enviable.
Although still at liberty, his office had been sealed, his assets seized and his business — so carefully built up over many years — ruined overnight. He was liable to be arrested at any moment, and meanwhile led a fugitive existence, shunned by his former friends and associates, waiting for the axe to fall.
'Rosa's doing the best she can/ he remarked in a maudlin tone, 'but at times she just goes to pieces completely.
It's the effect this is going to have on the children we worry about most. To be honest, if it hadn't been for your mother giving us a break from time to time, I don't think we'd have been able to make it. She's a real treasure!'
'Certainly/ said Zen neutrally.
Nieddu produced a grey plastic cassette from his pocket and passed it across the table.
'Well?'asked Zen.
Nieddu rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.
'After all that, it turned out to be just a video game! One of those cartridges you buy and plug into a machine hooked up to your TV. Come to think of it, you wouldn't know. You don't have kids.'
Zen reached out idly and picked up the cigarette packet lying on the table.
'That's all? Just a game?'
'What were you expecting?' asked Nieddu.
His friend shrugged.
'I don't know.'
'Why are you so interested in it?'
Zen gestured evasively.
'It's a long story/ He opened the open pack of cigarettes and took one.
'May I?'
Nieddu, who had no idea that Zen had supposedly given up smoking, waved freely.
'So tell me about this game/ Zen said, pushing his failed pizza aside.
'What is there to say? It's like any other. The scenery and cast may change, but the object is always the same.
You're trying to beat the system, access higher levels and rack up as many points and lives as possible.'
Zen smoked in silence, nodding soporifically.
'Sounds like the story of my life/ he murmured.
'In this case you're a rogue cop trying to clean up a city which has been taken over by the mob. You also have to protect these beautiful women that the bad guys are out to get, and of course watch your own back. At least, that's the opening scenario. I didn't have time to find out what happens once you get past the first level.'
'Ah, I don't expect either of us will ever do that/ Zen commented enigmatically.
'You still haven't told me why you're so interested in it/ Nieddu reminded him.
Zen sighed.
'Someone got in a knife fight in the port. We don't know who he is or what he was doing there. I hoped this might supply some of the answers/ Nieddu seemed surprisingly interested in this inconsequential story.
'The game cassette was in his possession?'
'That's right.'
'Was he entering or leaving the port at the time?'
'Leaving.'
'Were there any foreign ships at the time? Especially Japanese or American?'
Zen frowned.
'What are you getting at, Gilberto?'
Nieddu suddenly relaxed and gave one of his huge infectious laughs.
'You're right! No reason I should do your job for you.
I've got enough problems of my own as it is.'
Zen held up the grey plastic cassette.
'You think this was being smuggled in? Why would they bother to do that if you can buy it over the counter?'
Nieddu stood up.
'Ah, well, that's the question. Anyway, I must be going.
I promised Rosa I wouldn't be late.'
He got out his wallet and made a show of offering to pay the bill, but Zen snatched it away.
'This is the least I can do in return for your help, Gilberto. I only wish I could do something about your real problems. Perhaps I'll get one of my Neapolitan contacts to ask San Gennaro to intercede for you. I'm told he's very effective/ Gilberto Nieddu laughed once again.
'Actually, I think that a miracle may already have occurred/ Zen looked at him curiously.
'What do you mean?'
Nieddu shrugged.
'Oh, I don't know. I just have a feeling that my luck is about to change.'
The two men exchanged an opaque glance. Zen started towards the door, then turned back.
'Let me have another cigarette, will you?'
Nieddu handed him the pack.
'Can I have a light too?' Zen added. 'I seem to have left mine at home.'
Nieddu laughed yet again, this time with a marked edge.
'You'll forget your own name next, Aurelio!'
I due creduli sposi Another evening, another restaurant. This one also served Neapolitan specialities, but here no attempt had been made to create a supposedly characteristic decor evoking the city as it appeared through the misty eyes of expatriate nostalgia: colourful, chaotic, cheap and cheerful. For this establishment was in Naples, or more precisely in Posillipo, one of the most beautiful and exclusive neighbourhoods on the bay, situated at the tip of a small headland shaded by palms and lemon trees and overlooking the sea.
At a table right up against the railings at the very edge of the terrace, Gesualdo Troise and Sabatino Capuozzo sat looking about them with a distinct air of unease.
'Fancy place/ said Sabatino. 'Fancy prices too, I bet.'
Gesualdo shrugged.
'We'll have to get used to it. This is the kind of thing the girls have been brought up to take for granted.'
'Funny, when you think where the money came from.'
A waiter, severely correct in his starched jacket, appeared at their table. Despite their unexceptionable suits and ties, he eyed them with barely concealed disdain, as aware as they themselves that they were out of their depth here. Gesualdo informed him shortly that they were waiting for some friends to join them. The waiter removed an invisible speck from the immaculate tablecloth and ejected it unceremoniously over the railing.
'Siente, cumpagne mije/ murmured Sabatino.
The waiter turned around with an expression of astonishment at this unwonted familiarity. Then he caught sight of the pistol. It was in a shoulder-holster just visible in the hollow which Sabatino had deliberately created by leaning forward so that his jacket bulged open.
'These friends are young ladies from a very important family/ Sabatino told him seriously. 'We want them to
