He pointed to the low wall of the nearest stall.
‘Just leave it there and go and pack. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve discussed a few remaining issues with the colonel.’
Gabriele did as he had been told and walked off. The door at the end of the byre grated on its hinges as he went out.
‘Well, you’ve certainly got Passarini eating out of your hand,’ Guerrazzi commented sarcastically. ‘As a matter of interest, are you planning to shoot me?’
Zen did not reply. He took out a pen and held it out at arm’s length to Guerrazzi along with the sheaf of papers.
‘Sign each of these at the bottom, in order, printing your full name and title underneath.’
Guerrazzi regarded him spitefully.
‘Why?’
‘I want your autograph. A keepsake for my children’s children.’
‘You have no children, Zen. I checked your file.’
‘Sign anyway.’
‘Do you take me for an idiot? I’m not signing some blank sheets of paper that could be used to forge a statement or a confession. Never!’
Zen straightened up and consulted his watch. Then he took a step forward and very deliberately rearranged the position of Guerrazzi’s broken leg. He paid no attention to the resulting clamour. He did not even look at Guerrazzi, only at his watch. When a minute had passed, he repeated the procedure.
‘All right, all right!’ barked Guerrazzi when he could speak again. ‘My heart is weak. You’ll kill me.’
‘Then sign.’
And Alberto did. Zen supervised the process carefully, then retrieved the pages and the pen and placed them in his pocket.
‘Thank you, colonnello,’ he said. ‘We’re almost finished. It only remains for me to tell you why Leonardo Ferrero was killed.’
‘We’ve already discussed that.’
‘We’ve discussed the reasons that your commanding officer gave you. They were in fact false.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Zen, call an ambulance! This pain is unbearable.’
‘I fear that the truth will be even more painful. Indeed, it seems to me almost the cruellest aspect of this little miserable affair.’
‘Don’t lecture me about the truth! I was there. I know what happened.’
‘No, you don’t. And even the version you did believe must have provided little comfort as the years went by. You believed that you had been ordered to eliminate a traitor who was threatening to expose a clandestine organization essential to the future stability of the country. But as time passed it surely became clear that if that stability had ever been under any real threat in the first place, it would have been from people like you. There was never the slightest prospect of the armed left- wing uprising. You had not only underestimated the common sense and decency of the Italian people, but committed an atrocious act in their name and without their consent.’
‘It’s easy to be wise with hindsight.’
‘The three of you have had to live with that knowledge ever since, and each dealt with it in his own characteristic style. Nestore Soldani emigrated to Venezuela and made a fortune in various shady ways. Signor Passarini became a recluse and retreated into the world of antiquarian book dealing. You transferred to the secret service and used your power to terrify and if necessary eliminate anyone who threatened you. Soldani’s dead, and I shall spare Passarini, but your case is different. The other two were accomplices to Ferrero’s murder, but you were in charge. In charge of everything — the details, the duration, the durezza. You decided exactly how much Ferrero had to suffer before you threw him into that blast pit. It’s only right that you at least should know the truth.’
Alberto Guerrazzi managed a scornful laugh.
‘I have always known it, and I am neither proud nor ashamed of what I did.’
Zen ignored him.
‘In the course of the interrogation to which you subjected him, Leonardo Ferrero must have claimed that he had been ordered to contact the journalist Luca Brandelli by your commanding officer, Colonel Comai.’
‘He said a lot of things.’
‘People under torture do. They will say anything to stop the pain.’
‘Just as I signed those sheets of paper. What do you plan to do with them, incidentally?’
‘But in this case what Ferrero said was true. There’s no doubt about that, because he said exactly the same thing to the journalist when they met. He told Brandelli that his commanding officer had recently discovered the existence of Operation Medusa and was very concerned about the implications for democracy. He had therefore instructed Ferrero to arrange for selected details to be leaked to the press so that the whole matter would come to light.’
‘That’s absurd! Comai personally inducted me into Medusa. As cell leader, I recruited the other three. They reported to me and I reported to Comai. If he had doubts about the organization, why would he do all that?’
Zen nodded. ‘That’s an interesting point. Another is the cellular structure of Medusa. The idea of course is to protect the organization from external scrutiny in the event of a breakdown in security. Since each cell is discrete, its members cannot betray anything more than their own limited knowledge. By the same token, however, they cannot know anything more either. They cannot know, for example, whether the organization actually exists at all.’
He shone the torch beam at Guerrazzi’s face.
‘Your induction occurred during the three-month period preceding Lieutenant Ferrero’s death, right?’
‘How can you know?’
‘Because the beginning of that period is when Colonel Comai discovered that Ferrero had been having an affair with his wife Claudia. Or rather, that’s when she told him.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Ferrero had broken off the affair a few months earlier, and he chose the cruellest way, a wall of silence. The coward’s way, she calls it in her journal. It was very difficult and dangerous for Claudia to contact her young lover, and on the few occasions when she tried he simply refused to respond. In a word, he had tired of her, and was no doubt also worried about the effect on his career if her husband found out. Anyway, he dropped her.’
‘This is all…’
‘Shortly afterwards, Claudia discovered that she was pregnant. She broke both the good news and the bad to her husband. She was going to be a mother at last, and he a father. It was a new beginning for their marriage, and in order that love and trust might henceforth be abounding there was one past peccadillo that she wanted to confess to, just so as to clear the air. She backdated the end of the affair with Ferrero by about a year, so that her husband would have no suspicion that the child was not his, and indeed it seems that he never did.’
Guerrazzi looked completely dazed, and not just by pain or the light.
‘Signora Comai’s object in all this was to protect herself against possible future indiscretions by her ex-lover, and more importantly to get her own back. She knew exactly how ambitious Ferrero was, and in his military career he would soon be facing the same wall of silence to which he had treated her. It was a just punishment that would hurt him just as he had hurt her. Colonel Comai had other ideas, however. It was he, no doubt, who suggested that Leonardo Ferrero would be an excellent choice for one of the other three members of the newly formed Medusa cell.’
‘He mentioned his name.’
Zen murmured indulgently.
‘The idea was a stroke of genius on his part, I must admit. A stupid man would have made do with one assassin, or even have done it himself. But Comai couldn’t know how many other people knew about Ferrero’s liaison with his wife. If the young lieutenant turned up dead in an alley somewhere then tongues might have started to wag. Besides, an individual might have betrayed him, but a group like yours was bound together by a sense of shared responsibility and guilt. To reveal the truth would have been to betray your comrades in arms, not to mention a patriotic conspiracy of the highest secrecy and significance.’
‘This is all bluff, Zen! You have no proof.’
‘Proof exists, in the form of Claudia Comai’s journal. I read it earlier today, although apart from a few details
