normal.' Brugnoli gave a pleased smile.
'Excellent! In that case, dottore, I can give you some rather good news.'
He stood poised, his face densely pensive, as though posing for a news photographer.
'I have been thinking for some time,' he said, 'of setting up a rather special unit within Crirninalpol, and I would like to take this opportunity of inviting you to become its founding member.'
Zen said nothing. Brugnoli swung round with a dramatic, self-deprecating gesture.
'No, 'unit ' isn't the right word. You'll have to forgive me, dottore. Even I sometimes fall into the old habits of speech. What I have in mind is enabling a team of experienced, dedicated individuals with a proven track record for intelligence, intuition and above all initiative. My own version of the famous 'Three I's'.'
He smiled wryly for the hypothetical camera.
'Personal initiative, like personal responsibility, is something which I fear has not traditionally been prioritized within this department. But believe me, that is about to change. In the new climate, with the new government, the new culture, the new society in the making, this Ministry is, in the last resort, simply a business organization like any other. We have goals to achieve, issues to address, targets to meet and, most important of all, a vision to implement The fusty old managerial skills of the past cannot rise to these challenges. We have to start thinking outside the box! We need fresh blood, fresh ideas and a fresh approach.
'Not all our present staff have proved to be responsive to this new outlook, I regret to say. To be perfectly frank, some have been downright hostile. I am therefore currently drawing up a plan for a phased retirement scheme designed to offer such individuals a non-negotiable golden handshake amounting to eighty per cent of the salary they would receive for their remaining years of service. I shall be putting it to the Minister shortly, but I'm happy to say that he has already indicated his agreement in principle. The union also seems favourably disposed, thanks to various peripheral clauses, so there's every chance that within a year or so at the most we'll be able to start cutting away a lot of the dead wood around here – and at a price considerably less than paying them to continue not doing their jobs!'
Brugnoli abruptly dropped the public persona and turned round with a man-to-man expression, as if Zen were a privileged viewer who was being shown the sections of the televised interview that were 'off the record'.
'But we must be careful how we wield the axe. The last thing I want is to deprive this concern of the services of more mature operatives who might well prove to be an invaluable asset as we confront the varying demands for our products and services in the future. Men like you, dottore.'
He stared pointedly at Zen, who nodded.
'What would be involved?' he asked cautiously.
'A substantial pay rise, for a start! On a par with Questore level, although I'm glad to say that you won't have that discredited title. One of my long-term goals is to restructure our entire organization, phasing out all those Fascist-era positions associated with authoritarianism, repression and control of territory, and replacing them with more flexible classifications that emphasize the wide-ranging public-service nature of our work. Crime issues today are no longer province-specific, they're national and, increasingly, inter- and supranational. In order to be able to respond effectively, we need to operate on the same level. Needless to say, any attempt to make such changes runs up against entrenched opposition and petty vested interests at every turn, which is why I have decided to start with this relatively modest initiative within Criminalpol itself.'
'But what would I actually do?' Zen replied.
'Very much what you have in the past, but without all the bother of coming into the office to deal with endless meetings, paperwork and routine drudgery. Your time and skills are too valuable to be wasted like that, dottore. The whole concept is completely outmoded, a relic left over from the early industrial era, when the factory could only function if all die workers showed up when the whistle blew. Now that we can communicate instantly and securely at any time and in any place, what on earth is the point of someone like you trudging in here every morning to sit at a desk taking phone calls and filing reports? I'm interested in results, not reports. Under the new system, you would save yourself two hours a day commuting all the way in here, not to mention freeing up valuable office space which could be used more productively and profitably. Do you see what I mean?'
I'm starting to get the idea, thought Zen.
'In your case, mere will be absolutely no need for you to come to the Ministry at all, except perhaps for a weekly progress meeting with a select group of other senior personnel.'
He laughed.
'A bit like turning up for mass on Sunday. And no one will make a fuss if you miss a week or two, as long as you make a full and frank confession of course! Apart from that you will operate strictly on a case-by-case basis. You will be fully briefed, then given a free hand to proceed as you see fit. Needless to say, you can depend on the full backing of this organization at all times, but there will be no attempt to monitor or control your activities. 'Personal choice, personal empowerment, personal responsibility.' As I've told you, thaf s my slogan. But if s not just a slogan, dottore, if s a way of life.'
Brugnoli held out his hand to Zen with a vigour which somehow suggested the eagle reaching for Prometheus's liver.
'I want to thank you for your valuable input and collaboration, dottore, and to be the first to congratulate you on your promotion to this challenging position. You will naturally need a transitional period to make the necessary arrangements before assuming your new duties, and I'm happy to tell you that the villa in Versilia where you were staying earlier is at your disposition for the remainder of the month. Go back to the beach, relax and recharge. If s been a pleasure doing business with you, and I can't wait to welcome you aboard again just as soon as you are fully recovered.'
Zen gracefully took both the hint and his leave. Outside in reception, the faux blonde called him over to the desk and gave him an envelope.
'You need to pick up some equipment that has been allocated to you,' she said. 'Take this docket down to Supplies.'
It's a gun, thought Zen as he made his way out into the corridor and down the stairs. They're giving me a gun so that I can do the decent thing and shoot myself.
'Supplies' turned out to be the department in the basement which had previously been known simply as the depository, presided over by Tullio Rastrelli, a sour, scrawny sottufficiale who had lost his right arm when he ran his patrol car into a train at a level crossing while in hot pursuit of a teenage driver who had made a rude gesture at him. Now, though, the counter was manned by a young woman who alarmed Zen by flashing one of those insincere smiles of the sales clerks you see in television commercials, and then asking in what way she could assist him. Zen handed over the envelope. The woman tore it open and read the contents.
'If you'll be so good as to wait one minute, I'll be right back,' she said with another smile. 'And if I'm not so good, you'll never return?' She gave him a startled glance. 'Pardon?'
Zen shook his head. 'Never mind.'
The woman walked off along the shelving stacked with weapons, ammunition, handcuffs, batons, shields, helmets, and all the other dismal tools of their brutal trade. Zen thought about other times he had come down here, then decided to stop thinking.
Some time later, the woman returned with a small cardboard box which she placed on the counter.
'If you'd be so good as to sign here’ she said, pointing to the docket. 'Yes?' said Zen. She looked at him. 'Pardon?'
'What’s in the box?'
'Oh, I'd be delighted to demonstrate the various features.' 'If I did what?' 'Pardon?' 'Never mind.'
The woman opened one end of the box and shook out a black plastic oblong that looked rather like one of the early mobile phones, except that there was no keypad. In its place were three large buttons, one green, one yellow and one red, the last covered by a clear plastic shield. She clicked a further button on the side and the other three glowed with a pale radiance.
'This unit combines functional efficiency with rugged durability and extreme ease of use’ she said in a practised tone. 'As you see, there are just three user options. The green button allows you to respond to an incoming call, the yellow initiates an outgoing call, while the red activates the dedicated alarm. Full range over the entire national territory is ensured by the use of military frequencies and facilities, but the really exciting feature is the GPS function.'
'Excite me.'
