‘What is this stuff?’ Zen asked as they sat down at the low table.
Nieddu produced a bottle of white wine and another of mineral water from a small fridge in the corner.
‘The local cuisine,’ Gilberto replied, pointing. ‘ Kelemi, niskan, hevir. U gost, I think. Lortek, balcanres, ciz biz, goste risti… Not sure about that one, but it’s all delicious. The only exception is the beverage they favour, some concoction made from soured milk. One taste I’ve failed to acquire. Normally I just have one or two of these dishes, but I told Tavora that I was entertaining a guest today so she laid on a feast. In their culture, where famine has always been a threat, it’s very important that on a special occasion there should be too much food served. But don’t worry, just have what you want. Anything we don’t eat will be used up.’
Gingerly at first, then with increasing appetite, Zen began to sample the plates of grilled meats, vegetables, bulgar wheat and rounds of bread like very thin pizza crust. It was indeed all delicious.
‘So how did you get involved with these people?’ Zen asked.
‘Well, they’re illegals, of course. Their country, which doesn’t exist, has been a war zone since anyone can remember. Historically, the only choice the Kurds have had is whether they want to be oppressed and massacred by the Iranians, the Iraqis or the Turks. So many of them try to leave. A few, like this lot, make it.’
‘And where do you fit in?’
‘I’m not doing it as a humanitarian gesture, needless to say. They wouldn’t accept that anyway. Very proud bunch. Basically what happened was that our needs coincided. These people — they’re all part of the same family, incidentally — needed food, lodging and protection from the authorities. I needed a loyal and trustworthy work force. I was introduced to the head of the clan through contacts in the city down in Puglia where their ship landed and we struck a deal. I’ve kept my side of the bargain and they’ve kept theirs. And Rosa is delighted, needless to say. If I even thought about making a pass at one of the younger women, they’d get to me before she did. With these people, it’s marriage or death.’
‘How many of them do you employ?’
‘Thirty or forty. It’s hard to keep count. Anyway, I leave that sort of thing to their boss. They all live and work here, don’t speak Italian, and almost never leave the compound. It’s a bit like one of those abandoned farm complexes you see from the motorway in the Po valley…’
‘ Cascine.’
‘That’s right. The landowner housed and fed the sharecroppers who worked for him. It was like a little village. Well, that’s what I’m doing here.’
‘But what do they do for you?’
‘Ah well, that’s something I’d rather not go into.’
‘So it’s illegal.’
Gilberto looked pained.
‘Really, Aurelio! Must you use these crude terms? You’re completely out of step with the new way of thinking. The Italian people have re-elected as their prime minister a man who is under investigation, amongst nine other charges, for having paid a judge half a million dollars to find in his favour over a takeover battle. His first action on taking office was to ram through changes in the law to prevent the case going to court before the statute of limitations runs out, and he’s now trying to pass another one that will give him the right to select the judge of his choice before the case goes to trial. And you’re asking me if what I’m doing is illegal?’
Zen laughed.
‘Anyway, it’s not,’ Nieddu went on. ‘Well, not seriously illegal. Just an import and distribution operation.’
‘Drugs, I suppose.’
Unexpectedly, Gilberto also laughed.
‘That’s right, drugs. And cigarettes, but only for my personal use. A nostalgia thing. In the Third World, the packets don’t come with all that stuff about cancer being bad for you. Here, that’s about all they do say. Pretty soon they’ll pass a law making the health warning bigger than the packet. You’ll ask the tabaccaio, “Can I have a health warning, please?”, and there’ll be a pack of cigarettes stuck to the back of it.’
He clapped his hands loudly. The woman appeared and removed the tray of uneaten food, then returned with a pot of coffee and two cups.
‘So where do you want me to send the blow-ups of those photos?’ Gilberto demanded.
‘You’re still willing to do it?’
‘Not personally. I don’t have the equipment. But I know someone who does, and he’s fast and discreet.’
‘I thought that after that business about…’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! I said I would do it and I’ll do it. That’s what I like about these Kurds. As long as you’re family, and I’m honorary family, they never break their word.’
‘I’m not family,’ said Zen.
Gilberto smiled.
‘You saved my marriage. That makes you honorary family. Do you have a computer?’
‘Gemma does.’
‘Nice to hear that you know someone who’s living in the twenty-first century. Is she on-line?’
‘On which line?’
Gilberto mimed exasperated despair.
‘Can her computer talk to other computers?’
‘I think so. Yes, it must do, the one at the pharmacy. She places her orders that way.’
Gilberto looked intently.
‘She’s a pharmacist? Well, well.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Never mind. What’s the address?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s in Lucca, Via Fillungo, but I don’t know the number.’
Gilberto gave him another crushing look, then produced a business card and handed it to Zen.
‘Give this to her and tell her to send me a blank email. As soon as the enhancement is ready, I’ll attach it and send it back.’
Zen poured them both more coffee and lit a cigarette.
‘Tell me about Nestore Soldani,’ he said.
Nieddu took an almost physical distance by his look.
‘You told me that he had nothing to do with the case you’re investigating.’
‘Absolutely not, Gilberto. But you say it’s been a lead story for several days. I’ll be dropping into the Ministry before meeting Gemma at the station, and I might be able to find out who is working on it, maybe pick up a few details to pass on to you.’
He sat back and shut up. Gilberto Nieddu nursed his coffee and his cigarette for so long that Zen thought the gamble lost, but then he put both down and started to talk in an even, unemotional tone.
‘I first met Nestore in the late eighties, through a mutual friend. I’d just left the police and gone into the electronic security and espionage business. Soldani had just left the army and was looking for work. He’d been an officer in the Alpini — a volunteer, if you can believe that. Anyway, he had skills I needed and I used him on a few jobs, but he was too ambitious to stick with me for very long. The next thing I heard, he’d moved to Venezuela and had set up a variety of operations similar to those that I’ve been involved with over the years.’
‘Meaning illegal,’ risked Zen.
Gilberto Nieddu modulated one hand in mid-air.
‘On the cusp, Aurelio. On the cusp.’
He stubbed out his cigarette and glanced at the clock on the wall.
‘Venezuela has rich resources of oil, as you probably know. We have none. Soldani also had contacts, notably a former comrade-in-arms who had even more contacts, some with high management figures in the state petrol firm AGIP. In short, Nestore was able to facilitate a very lucrative and mutually advantageous deal between the respective governments involved, undercutting the price to which Venezuela was officially committed by its agreements with the other OPEC countries. He took an appropriate percentage and then wisely decided to quit while he was ahead and retire to the old coun¬ try before things turned politically nasty in Caracas, which they did very soon afterwards. But of course he couldn’t be sure what his reception would be this end either, so he played it clever. Whilst over there, he changed his name, just to be on the safe side, took out Venezuelan citizenship under his new identity and then moved to Campione d’Italia. He bought a property there, which you have to do in order to
