'Most of them probably are already. Lucca is not really a nightlife town, apart from the kids who hang around Piazza Napoleone. This neighbourhood is very quiet.'
'Where's your car parked?'
'Just down the street'
'Can you back it up to the door?'
'Of course.'
Zen emitted a long sigh.
'Good. We'll wait a while to make sure that everyone is settled down. The really tricky bit is going to be getting the body and the other stuff into the car. Once we're under way, barring unforeseen circumstances, it should be fairly straightforward. But if someone sees us humping an oddly shaped bundle out of here in the middle of the night, they'll remember it. And if a police patrol car happens to pass by, they're going to check.'
Back in the kitchen. Gemma poured herself some more wine and lit a cigarette.
'If anyone does notice, we're loading up a very valuable rug that I'm giving my sister for her birthday’ she said.
'At this hour?'
'Yes. She lives in Milan and we want to be back by evening’ Zen nodded sceptically. 'It might work.' 'Of course it will’
'Unless I'm wrong, and Lessi did have a back-up plan.' 'How do you mean?'
'Those 'friends in the business' he claimed to have. He might just have told one of them to send someone to this address if he hadn't called a certain number by a certain time. Something like that. But there's nothing we can do about that’
'He had friends all right,' Gemma said. 'That s how he found out that you were going to America’
Zen gazed at her.
'He did?'
She nodded.
'He also had some equipment, or code words, or access to some computers. I didn't understand all the details, but his friends told him that you were going to the States, and also the number and date of the flight you were booked on. Apparently he told them that he just wanted to confront you and 'gain closure'. In reality, he reckoned that was his last chance of getting even with you for what you'd done to his partner or whatever he was. Once you'd landed in America, you'd be whisked off into some secure accommodation pending the trial, and his contacts would be no use to him there. So everything depended on getting to you before that'
'And he booked himself on the same flight and attacked me in that street in Reykjavik. But supposing the plane hadn't been diverted? What was he going to do then?'
Gemma shook her head.
'No, you don't understand. He didn't buy a ticket on the plane. He travelled as one of the cabin attendants.' Zen laughed. 'That s impossible!' She looked at him gravely.
'No, it wasn't. And that’s what scares me most about this insane affair I suddenly find myself caught up in. It wasn't impossible at all. For people like that, and he isn't the only one by any means, nothing is impossible.'
'But how could he get through security? They must know who's going to be on any given flight. You can't just show up and be allowed on.'
'With the computer codes he had, he accessed the Alitalia database and got the details of the designated crew for the flight you were going to be on. Then he looked up the personal details, address and telephone numbers of male cabin attendants on the roster, discovered one who lived in Rome, and called him saying that a mutual friend had said they ought to get together. They went out to some gay club in the suburbs, then back home to the man's apartment. He didn't say what happened after that, except that he took the man's uniform and ID and changed the photo to one of him. That got him through security at Malpensa.'
'But surely the other members of the crew would have recognized that he wasn't… whatever his name was.'
'Enrico, I think. Yes, but once he was past security he didn't pretend to be Enrico any more. He was now someone else, who stepped in at the last moment because Enrico was ill. He'd got the story about the job out of Enrico at the club the night before. Everyone likes talking about their work. He wasn't assigned to the cabin you were in, but once the lights had been dimmed for the movie he made his way there and placed a glass of water on the tray table of the seat number you had been assigned. Everyone always drinks any water available on an aeroplane, he said’
'Except it wasn't me, and it wasn't water.'
'Exactly. You'd switched seats, so the person who'd taken yours drank the water, which contained some high-tech poison they supplied to that undercover unit he was in. Apparently it simulates the effects of a heart attack. But he didn't want to end up in the US, where he'd done some work assignments in the past and might be recognized by the agents who were expecting you, so he sabotaged half the toilets on the plane by bunging the pillows and blankets they hand out at night down them, and then drew the senior steward's attention to the problem. That forced a diversion. He'd got this idea from some story Enrico told him, he said.'
'Enrico sounds to have been good value for a couple of drinks and a blow job.' Gemma grimaced.
'I think the experience cost him rather more than that. Lessi was obviously a psychotic. Human life meant nothing whatever to him. Anyway, when, the plane landed in Iceland, he changed into the civilian clothes he had brought with him and slipped through immigration using a false passport he had 'lost' before leaving the police.'
'So it was he who attacked me in the street that night.'
'Yes. He claimed it was a total coincidence. The earlier flights back to Europe were all fully booked, so he had to wait for a late-night one. He went into town and was wandering around when he happened to catch sight of you. He said that you were drunk.'
'Iceland has that effect on you.'
'Of making you drunk?'
'Of making you need to get drunk.'
'I see. Anyway, that didn't work either, so he flew back here, assuming that you were safely out of his reach in America. Then one of his contacts got in touch and told him that your trip had been cancelled and that you were coming back to Italy. He knew your address in Rome, of course, and went to visit you there.'
She walked over and closed the window.
'Right, now I think if s time that you told me all about yourself, Dottor Zen.' 'All?'
'Everything. I think I deserve that, don't you? Under the circumstances.' 'Yes, of course. I'm just not sure where to begin.' 'How about the beginning? Whaf s your first name for a start?' 'Aurelio.'
She turned and beamed at him. 'What a lovely name! Go on.' 'Ah. Right. Well…'
This was by far the hardest thing that Zen had had to do so far that evening. He hated talking about himself. At first, he planned to give Gemma a heavily edited version of the truth, but much to his amazement he found himself telling her everything, precisely as she had asked.
She didn't even have to ask follow-up questions in the end, although she prodded him fairly hard in the initial stages. But a point came when she got up and made a large pot of coffee, turning her back on him and generating the usual amount of noise, and he just went on talking anyway. He couldn't stop!
But finally he did.
'Now it's your turn,' he told Gemma, who was sipping a mug of strong espresso opposite him at the table. 'No, no. You'll have to find out bit by bit' 'But I told you everything!' he protested. 'You had to.' 'I didn't'
'Yes, you did. Otherwise I'd have called the police and told them everything.' He laughed. 'It's a bit late for that'
'No it isn't. Even tomorrow wouldn't be too late. Or the day after that. You have Lessi's gun. You murdered him and then threatened me with the same if I didn't agree to help you dispose of his body. I think they'd believe that Particularly if some of Lessi's friends are as vindictive as you suggest'
Zen felt dazed, shocked, stunned by the wine and jolted by the coffee.
'You're going to tell them that?' he asked. Gemma laughed.
'Of course not, silly. I'm just explaining the balance of power around here. You have to do what I say, but I don't have to do what you say.'
