thought that old Papa Miletti would be too stupid to spot that, wrapped up in a lot of technical detail about non- voting share blocks and nominal investment consortia? Of course the kidnapping has given you an extra edge. All you had to do was to hold up the negotiations until I got desperate and then bully me into authorizing the Japanese deal on the pretext of raising money to pay for my release! In fact the kidnapping was very well timed from your point of view, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t even surprise me to learn that you set it up! Beware of in-laws, my father used to say, and when he’s Tuscan into the bargain I think we can expect just about anything. But none of this really bothered me, it was all piss in the wind as long as my eldest boy was true. Silvio I had already written off, of course. I realized long ago that the only thing he has in common with other men is the prick between his legs. God knows why – I made him the same way I made the rest of you – but there it is. There’s nothing manly to be expected from Silvio, unless that English witch knows something the rest of us don’t. Let him spit in her mouth and breed toads. He’ll never breed anything else, that’s for sure. But Pietro made up for all that and for everything else, or so I thought. The rest of you, choke on this last gobbet of my scorn! If he had been loyal I should never even have mentioned these playroom plots and tantrums of yours. But what I didn’t realize, and what has proved the gravest shock to me, is that Pietro is the worst of you all. What a superb role he has invented for himself, the English gentleman who stands disdainfully aside from the vulgar squabbles of this Latin rabble to whom he has the misfortune to be related! I’ve got to hand it to you, son, you’re the only one who really managed to deceive me, the only one who could break your father’s heart. And you have, you have. The others I could afford to lose, but you were too precious. I loved you, I needed you, and blinded by my love and need I never looked at you closely enough. But now I have, and I see what I should have seen a long time ago, the selfish, arrogant, unscrupulous fixer who has been quietly feathering his nest in London for the past ten years at our expense after turning his back on us as though we weren’t good enough for him, who couldn’t even be bothered to come home during this ordeal but just flew over on a weekend return when the mood took him, when he had nothing better to do, like the tourist he is! Gianluigi likes to think he’s clever, but you really are, Pietro. You’ve inherited my brains and Loredana’s morals, God rest her. You don’t instigate plots, because you know that plots get found out. Instead you manipulate the plots of the others to your own ends, playing one off against the others, letting them waste their energies in fruitless rivalries while you look on from a safe distance, waiting patiently for the moment to make your move, the day when I drop dead and you can come home and claim your own. Well, there we are, I’ve had my say. How do you like yourselves, my children? When you lie down tonight in your soft warm beds, think over what I have said. Get up and look at yourselves in the mirror. Look hard and long, and then think of your father lying here tormented with cold and pain and fear and despair. What follows has been dictated by my kidnappers. For some reason they seem to believe that you will obey them this time. First, then, the full ransom of ten milliard lire is to be paid immediately, in well-worn consecutively numbered notes…
There, at the foot of a page, the photocopy broke off. Zen inspected the envelope. It was of distinctive hand- laid paper with a griffin watermark and had been posted in Perugia the previous Thursday.
‘A personal and private family letter,’ Pietro Miletti had said. ‘A rather distressing document, not intended to be read by outsiders. Certain passages made very disturbing reading.’ Yes, it was easy to see why the family who, as Antonio Crepi had put it, couldn’t agree which sauce to have with their pasta, had found no difficulty in agreeing to burn Ruggiero’s letter on the spot. But this made it so obvious who had sent this copy that he was astonished that it had been sent at all. When Pietro Miletti thought Zen must have seen the letter, he’d burst out, ‘But that’s impossible!’ Then an idea occurred to him, and he added, ‘Unless…’ Now Zen knew what he had been thinking. If the letter had been burnt in the presence of all the members of the family immediately after being read, then the copy could only have been sent to him before they received it, by the person who went to pick it up from the rubbish skip.
But that could wait. This was urgent news and he must inform Bartocci at once. Besides, he had not yet had a chance to speak to the investigating magistrate about the pay-off. He tucked a two-thousand lire note under one of the saucers on the tray and went inside the cafe to phone.
Luciano Bartocci wasted no time on small talk.
‘ Jesus Christ almighty, Zen, what the hell do you think you’ve been up to? ’
He was too taken aback to reply.
‘ The family are absolutely incensed, and quite naturally so. How could you do such a thing? I thought you were an experienced professional or I’d never have let you go in the first place! Don’t you realize the position this puts me in? ’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘ I’m talking about what happened at the pay-off, when you were beaten up. The woman who drove you told us all about it. It’s no use trying to cover up now.’
‘I’m not trying to…’
Another voice broke in.
‘ Maurizio? Maurizio, is that you? ’
‘ It’s in use! ’
‘ What? Who is this? ’
‘ This line is in use, please put your phone down.’
There was a grunt and a click.
‘ Hello? Hello? ’
‘I’m still here,’
‘ The man who assaulted you called you a dirty cop, or words to that effect. So evidently they knew who you were. You must have given yourself away somehow. It’s absolutely unforgivable.’
‘They didn’t find out from me!’
‘ Then how did they find out? Eh? ’
Zen decided to give him the only answer he had been able to come up with.
‘Perhaps one of the family told them.’
‘ That’s nonsense! Why should they do that? ’
Zen put a hand out against the wall to steady himself.
‘How should I know? The last I heard you thought they were behind the whole thing!’
‘ Now, listen, that’s enough! I don’t want to hear any more talk of that kind. This is a very serious situation you’ve got us into. There’s no telling what the gang may do now.’
Zen lowered the receiver and stared at it, as though its expression might help him understand the words it was uttering.
‘ Hello? Hello? ’
Bartocci’s voice emerged in a comically diminished squawk, like a character in a cartoon film. The white- jacketed waiter scurried into the cafe carrying a tray on which a pyramid of empty cups and glasses was balanced. ‘Four coffees two beers one mineral water!’ he called to the barman. With a sigh Zen raised the receiver again.
‘Look, dottore, they knew I was there before I got out of the car, before they’d even had a glimpse of me.’
‘ I’d like to believe you, Zen. But it’s just not credible. If the gang knew you were coming why did they allow the pay-off to continue? Why didn’t they just cancel the whole thing? ’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that my presence was no surprise to them, but they decided to go ahead with the drop anyway. And afterwards they went to the trouble of calling out the Carabinieri to make sure I didn’t die of exposure. So there’s no reason to suppose that they’re going to do anything stupid now.’
‘ You and the kidnappers seem to have a perfect understand ¬ ing, Zen. They know what you’re doing, you know what they’re thinking. I just hope you’re right. For all our sakes.’
The line went dead.
A young man with a bad case of acne approached and pointed at the phone.
‘You finished?’
Yes, he had finished. There was no point now in telling Bartocci about the letter he had received. The young magistrate had embraced orthodoxy with the fervour of a recent convert. He was no longer interested in sensational revelations by anonymous informants.
As Zen turned away he glanced at the calendar hanging beside the phone, and suddenly realized what day it was. After all these years it had finally happened! Come hell or high water, he’d always managed to get his mother
