Your friend Agazio Curmaci could well turn up, too.’
‘My friend?’
‘You know what I mean. You come recommended, Blume. Magistrate Arconti speaks highly of you. In fact he says hello.’
‘He said hello? Not hyyuhhaggh?’
Massimiliani shrank back as if unnerved by Blume’s zombie imitation. ‘If you’re referring to the fact he was taken ill today, he’s already far better. He was sitting up in bed when I saw him. It’s true, he can’t speak properly, though I don’t think that’s an excuse for you to mock…’
‘You’ve seen him today?’
‘Yes. He recommended you a while back, of course. Today I went to visit him as a friend.’
‘Oh,’ said Blume, taken aback. ‘And what did he recommend me for?’
‘As someone who we might turn to for an extra hand. Specifically, someone who had a perfect command of English, a smattering of German, professional integrity, intelligence, experience, willingness to travel, no family commitments.’
‘A hand in what? I’m busy right now.’
‘It looks to me like you were taking an early night.’
‘I am on standby. Is Arconti really sitting up?’
‘He had a stroke, they administered the drugs. It remains to be seen what damage there is and how long it will take him to heal. But he’s already regained movement. Look, Blume, I’m not a doctor.’
‘Now that we’re on the subject, who are you exactly? Who do you work for? Apart from the DCSA?’
‘In order of importance and pride, I would say I am first and foremost a Carabiniere. I also work for AISI, and I have been seconded to the DCSA.’
‘AISI. You didn’t mention that before. SISDE, huh?’
‘AISI, not SISDE. SISDE’s the old name. It hasn’t been used for a while.’
‘That’s because you fuckers had such a reputation for subversion and corruption you had to change your name like a criminal on the run. More of a conspiracy of crypto-fascists, thieves, Freemasons and Vatican financiers than a secret service.’
‘I was a kid back then, but most of your criticism is justified. Even so, there was always a public-service ethos. Good people. Same as in any institution in this country. Layers of deadwood and corruption, but a core of good people in the middle, fighting against the odds. There is no conflict between homeland security and my duties as a Carabiniere. They are complementary. You know what the motto of the AISI is? It’s Scientia rerum Reipublicae salus, which means…’
‘The salvation of the Republic comes from knowing all about other people’s shit,’ said Blume.
‘That’s a very free translation.’
‘Tell me some of the Republic-saving intelligence you know.’
‘I know your colleagues are spending all night following up an investigation that has already ended. And you, sensing this to be the case, have wisely decided to take an early night.’
‘Explain.’
‘A few hours ago the police in Sesto San Giovanni got a call reporting an explosion and fire in one of those giant disused industrial areas. They found a van with two charred corpses. The bodies have not been identified, yet. But the van is the one your colleagues have just put out an APB on. The investigating magistrate in Milan has decided not to inform the investigating magistrate in Rome until tomorrow or even Monday.’
Blume retrieved his home phone from among the cushions of his collapsing sofa.
‘What are you doing?’
‘They’re my colleagues. I’m going to tell them. So they, too, can get an early night.’
‘I’d prefer you didn’t.’
‘They’ll know soon enough; why not immediately, give them a proper weekend?’
‘Because I would be breaking my word to my friend in Milan, if Rome were to learn about this before he was ready.’
‘So you shouldn’t have given him your word.’
‘I told you this because I thought I could trust your discretion.’
‘You’re one of these people who can’t keep a confidence. Immediately you hear one, you rush off to tell someone else, me in this case, and then you get all moral and uppity if it looks like I want to do the same thing. A secret service man who can’t keep a secret,’ said Blume.
‘I can keep secrets, Blume. For instance, I am not going to tell anyone that you falsified a confession by the wife of a powerful member of the Ndrangheta.’
Blume started to put the phone back on the sofa. But before it touched the cushion, it started ringing.
12
Rome
Blume answered the phone, taking his time. He knew without looking it was Caterina, the only person who ever called him on his landline.
‘Hi.’
‘I’m back in the office,’ said Caterina. ‘I took your advice and got to work on other things.’
‘Maybe you should call it a night,’ said Blume, staring at Massimiliani who raised his hands in a gesture of mild exasperation, but whose face did not betray much.
‘Are you calling it a night?’ she asked.
‘Yes, you should go home, Caterina.’
‘You know Elia’s on holiday at the sea with my parents?’
‘Even if you don’t need to get back to him, it’s good to get some sleep,’ said Blume. ‘You can get back to the investigation in the morning.’
‘I see,’ she said coldly. ‘I was phoning for another reason.’
‘What?’
‘That book Arconti’s wife gave him for his birthday. It had a page missing.’
Blume was surprised. He had been expecting some personal stuff from her. This was more welcome.
‘The wife bought the book at Feltrinelli at Piazza del Duomo a few days ago,’ continued Caterina. ‘I called her to check. It was brand-new, yet damaged when we found it. The pages skipped from 156 to 159. One sheet — pages 157 and 158 — had been torn out. You could see the ragged edges where it was ripped. I had one of the uniformed guys, Bonanni, pop round to the Feltrinelli store on Largo Argentina and get a copy while I was examining the CCTV, and it was here on my desk when I got back. The torn page corresponds to a description and drawings of oak trees: the Quercus petrea and the Quercus robur, the Sessile oak and the Pedunculate oak. I looked them up in combination with various search terms, including Ndrangheta, and this brought me to a series of webpages on the “Tree of Wisdom”, which is also called the “Mother Tree”, the tree of the Ndrangheta. Depending on the webpage, sometimes it seems as if the tree is mythological, sometimes as if it is an actual oak that has been growing for hundreds of years near the sanctuary of the Madonna di Polsi, above the “Infernal Valley”. The trunk is five metres in circumference.’
‘That’s very interesting.’
‘You don’t have to be sarcastic.’
‘I wasn’t being sarcastic. That’s interesting: the Tree of Wisdom.’
‘I think the missing page is a buried reference. Ripped out by the killer in a symbolic gesture. The Ndrangheta sees itself as a tree. The main trunk, the capo bastone, is the boss, the leaves are the latest recruits, the least important, the branches are their commanders, and so on. The roots feed on the blood of traitors and the soil of the land. I’m still reading up on it. If you want, we…’
The captain slapped out a fast rhythm on his knee, and stood up briskly and started touring the room.
‘Another time, Caterina. I need to go.’
