now would have extraordinary resonances, and that knowledge was as inhibiting as the acoustics of a great church.
‘I think that you are full of shit,’ Gianluigi finally murmured, slowly and distinctly. ‘I’m going to find out. And if you are, I’ll make sure you drown in it.’
He walked through to his study, his heart a madhouse filled with the shrieks of despairing wretches, his head a cool and airy library where shrewd men debated tactics. Norberto was the best route to take. As a member of the regional council he knew almost everything that was going on and could find out the rest quickly and discreetly.
‘Norberto? Gianluigi Santucci. Yes, me too. I’m sorry, but it can’t wait. Someone’s just told me that there’s been a break in the Miletti case, that arrests have been made. Have you heard anything?’
Sensing a movement, he looked round to find that Zen had followed him and was now standing in the doorway. For a moment Gianluigi was tempted to get rid of him, but he restrained himself. The news was good. Much better to show himself unconcerned, a man with nothing to hide.
‘Nothing at all?’ he confirmed. ‘I thought as much!’
‘Get him to check,’ Zen warned. ‘This happened in Florence and the military are keeping it quiet until the magistrate gets there.’
Gianluigi bit his lip.
‘Would you mind just checking that?’ he said into the phone. ‘You’ll call back? Very well.’
As he replaced the receiver Loredana’s voice rang out from the dining room.
‘Christ, not chocolate pudding again! What are you trying to do, poison me? You know I hate chocolate! It brings me out in spots.’
While he waited for Norberto to get through to his contact, Gianluigi thought back to that other phone call, in the days shortly after Ruggiero was kidnapped. The gang had been given the Santuccis’ number as a ‘clean’ telephone line on which to communicate. At first Gianluigi had played it absolutely straight, but when the gang’s modest demands were swiftly met and it began to look as if Ruggiero would be released within days, it occurred to him how convenient it would be if the old man’s return could be delayed. The whole question of the deal with the Japanese was hanging in the balance, and with it Gianluigi’s future, for if it went through he was a made man. So when the gang next phoned he’d expressed slight surprise that they’d asked for so little, given the family’s ability to pay. If they needed more information on this subject, he implied, this could be arranged. It had been a risk, of course, but very carefully calculated, like all the risks he took. The kidnappers could pose no threat unless they were caught, a possibility so remote that Gianluigi had discounted it.
The phone rang.
‘ Well, you seem to be better informed than I am, Santucci! The gang have indeed been arrested. A magistrate went to Florence this morning to question them. Hello? Hello, are you there? ’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m here. Thanks. I’ll be in touch.’
I’ll never see Loredana’s children grow, he thought, never take Sergio hunting. But this uncharacteristic weakness lasted no more than a moment. Then he strode to the end of the room and opened the sliding door to the terrace, beckoning to Zen to follow him.
The terrace was covered by a pergola whose vines were just beginning to put out shoots. It was sunny, still and surprisingly hot.
‘So you’re accusing me of collaborating with my father-in-law’s killers, is that it?’ Gianluigi demanded point- blank.
Zen looked taken aback.
‘Not at all, dottore! I just wanted to warn you of certain developments which could potentially cause problems unless steps are taken now. That’s all.’
‘What kind of steps did you have in mind?’
Zen held up his hand, shaking his head.
‘That’s your affair, dottore. I don’t need to know anything about it. But whatever you decide, it’ll take time, and time is precisely what we don’t have at present. Rosella Foria is questioning the gang in Florence at this very moment. We must act right away.’
So that was the way of it, eh? Thank God for human nature, thought Gianluigi, rotten to the core!
‘Excuse me, but what’s in this for you?’ he queried pointedly.
Zen made a small gesture of embarrassment.
‘About four years ago I had a misunderstanding with my superiors in Rome. They transferred me from active service and stuck me away in the Ministry doing bureaucratic work. At this stage of my career I haven’t got much to look forward to except retirement anyway, but my pension will be pegged to my rank. Before this thing happened I was in line for promotion to Vice-Questore, but now…’
Gianluigi nodded and smiled.
‘And you’d still like that promotion.’
Zen shrugged, his eyes discreetly lowered.
‘You spoke of taking action,’ Gianluigi went on. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Well, there’s another factor involved. The kidnappers admit shooting Valesio, but they deny the Miletti murder. Moreover, one of the SIMP Fiats was observed near the scene of the murder, driven by a woman with blonde hair. I identified the car that day you found me at the garage, and later I had it stolen and subjected to a forensic examination.’
Gianluigi was silent. A display of outrage seemed a bit beside the point under the circumstances, and anyway, he needed to save his energy.
‘Several long threads were found,’ Zen went on. ‘Threads from a blonde wig. It almost looks as though someone was trying to frame your wife, particularly since Ruggiero was shot with a pistol similar to hers which you now tell me is missing. But the point is that all this presents us with both a risk and an opportunity.’
Gianluigi almost missed this last remark. A blonde wig, he was thinking. A blonde wig,
Feeling that the silence had gone on long enough, he murmured, ‘A risk for my wife, you mean?’
To his surprise Zen laughed rather nastily.
‘No, dottore! Look, Ruggiero was killed on Monday, twenty-four hours before the phone call saying he had been released. Only the kidnappers knew where he was then, so if they didn’t kill him they must have told the person who did. And only one person was in touch with the gang.’
‘I didn’t kill him!’
Gianluigi’s voice swooped from a scream to a whisper as he realized that he might be overheard.
Zen nodded earnestly.
‘I know, dottore. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’m just pointing out that the investigating magistrate is bound to assume that the gang’s informant and Ruggiero Miletti’s murderer are one and the same person. That’s a risk we shouldn’t underestimate. But it also provides a way out of the original problem. Because if the informant and the murderer are assumed to be one and the same person, then providing we can persuade Rosella Foria that one of the others committed the murder, she’ll naturally assume that person was also the informant.’
After a moment’s silence Gianluigi burst out laughing, as if he had just been told a story about the bizarre customs of a foreign country.
‘You know, Zen, I think I’ve been underestimating you,’ he said.
‘We have an unfair advantage in the police. Everyone assumes we’re stupid.’
Gianluigi’s smile abruptly disappeared.
‘But it won’t work! Do you think these magistrates are children? How can you hope to implicate one of the family in Ruggiero’s murder? It’s preposterous!’
‘That doesn’t matter. The point is just to create as much fuss and confusion as possible, to send the shit flying in every direction. And then while Rosella Foria is busy trying to clear it all up there’ll be plenty of time to take whatever steps you feel are appropriate to bring about a satisfactory and lasting solution of the problem. But I don’t need to know anything about that. What I do need are those photographs of Silvio.’
Once again Gianluigi lost his head.
‘Who put you up to this, Zen? You’re not big enough to be operating on your own. Who’s behind you, eh? What’s the game?’
A dark suspicion suddenly took form in his mind as he remembered the look Zen and his wife had exchanged.
