‘Alec, you would tell me, wouldn’t you, if your journey was connected to the Arconti case?’
‘No.’
‘No you wouldn’t tell me, or…’
‘ Wenn meine Schmerzen schweigen,
Wer sagt mir dann von ihr? ’
Blume put the phone down. ‘For Christ’s sake, Konrad!’ He brought it back to his ear. ‘Listen, let’s not mix things up, Caterina. I’ll call you back soon.’ He hung up abruptly.
Konrad stopped singing. Blume couldn’t decide whether he had been serious or was engaging in some sort of exercise in humour that only Germans appreciated. Konrad’s tenor voice had, in fact, been quite good.
The real problem was Konrad’s driving. He was bouncing in his seat and swinging the steering wheel left and right like a five-year-old pretending to steer as he swerved around the potholes and sought to avoid the bumps in the road. The sunlight was lighting up his fiery hair and streaming directly into his face so that there was no way he could possibly see where he was going.
‘That was not the right exit for Positano, or Naples, or even Salerno,’ shouted Blume above the rushing air.
‘I am perfectly aware of where I am going,’ said Konrad, his tone now scornful. He swerved around one pothole but hit a second, larger one, almost bouncing Blume into his lap.
Blume steadied himself. ‘Oh yeah, and where might that be?’
‘To the gates of hell,’ shouted Konrad, facetious as ever.
22
Near Pozzuoli, Naples
‘We could get a bite to eat at that osteria,’ suggested Blume.
Konrad continued driving.
‘I’m hungry,’ said Blume. ‘It’s past two. We’re going to miss lunch if we don’t stop. If I skip a meal, first I get a blinding headache, then I start killing Germans. Seriously, I need to eat. It’s a blood-sugar thing.’
‘You are a diabetic,’ said Konrad. It did not sound like a question; it sounded more like a reprimand. ‘That osteria is abandoned. You can see it has not been painted or restored in fifty years. I did a course in urban tracking in 2002. We were taught to see things at a glance. The trick is to see the whole thing and the details, and keep moving, while you consider the implications of what you have captured in the first glance.’
The camper van dipped and its suspension groaned as Konrad drove them through a series of potholes and over a lattice of tree roots that had burst out of the tarmac.
‘So you’ll have noticed the five cars and the van parked outside it?’ said Blume, when the rocking had stopped.
‘Yes, of course I saw them.’
‘So, Konrad, it is not abandoned. It is still serving lunch.’
Konrad slowed down. ‘My point is that eating at this time of the day is bad for clear thinking.’
‘OK. Forget it. You’re obviously in a hurry to get to… where is it you want to get to?’
‘Lake Avernus,’ said Konrad. ‘But now I am looking for a place to turn, so that we can go back.’
‘To the abandoned osteria?’
‘I now recognize that it is not abandoned. I was not focused at the time. Now it is all clear in my mind’s eye.’
The osteria served food directly to the table without any menu. Two bottles of water, a jug of wine and a basket of bread sat between them. Walking quickly by, the waiter placed two dishes of caprese in front of them. Konrad tried to say something in Italian to the waiter, who listened patiently, an expression of pity verging on concern in his eyes. When Konrad had finished his incomprehensible sentence, the waiter gave him an encouraging smile and moved away to deal with normal people.
Blume quartered his mozzarella, speared a tomato slice and, with the help of a piece of bread, pushed the mozzarella on to his fork. It was sweet and creamy.
‘My speaking skills are rusty,’ said Konrad.
‘Corroded, I’d say,’ said Blume. ‘I didn’t understand a word.’
‘ Non e che io non sappia parlare italiano, sai? ’ said Konrad.
‘Now I understand you fine,’ said Blume. ‘How come you didn’t speak like that to the waiter?’
‘I was speaking Campanian dialect.’
This time, there seemed to be no humorous undertow in Konrad’s demeanour. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course. Perhaps the waiter isn’t from these parts.’
‘Apart from the fact you were entirely incomprehensible…’ Blume replayed Konrad’s phrases in his mind and began to laugh. ‘Dialect… with that accent. You should be on Zelig.’
‘What is this Zelig?’
‘A TV show for stand-ups.’ Blume tried to suppress his laughter. The trick was not to think of… No, it was no good.
Three minutes later, drying his eyes with the back of his hand, Blume said, ‘No foreigner can ever speak dialect. You might pick up some of the accent if you stayed here long enough, but you can’t speak dialect.’ He looked at Konrad’s plate. ‘You haven’t touched your caprese. Why are you not eating that mozzarella di bufala? That is local produce, and this is the best area in the country for mozzarella.’
‘I am not sure I like it. I would have preferred to choose from the menu.’
Blume stripped a crust off a piece of bread and crunched it between his teeth. ‘No menu here.’ He pressed the flat of his knife on the mozzarella, bleeding milk across his plate.
The waiter came back, stared wordlessly at Konrad, then removed his mozzarella and tomato. The next course was homemade pasta and San Marzano tomato sauce with plenty of basil.
Once again, Konrad sat immobile, ignoring his food.
‘No wonder you’re thin,’ said Blume. ‘What’s wrong that you’re not eating your pasta?’
‘I must not be hungry.’
‘Then leave the fucking bread alone.’
Konrad took his hand out of the bread basket and tucked it guiltily under the table.
‘That’s better,’ said Blume. ‘Now eat up. And let’s get some business out of the way.’
‘What business?’
‘Your colleagues saw you in the company of an Ndrangheta boss. Domenico Megale, to be precise.’
Konrad looked so utterly shocked that Blume burst out laughing. ‘I can’t quite work out when you’re trying to be funny, but there’s no mistaking when you’re shocked. It seems you wore a disguise so bad they want to use it as a sort of reverse example.’
‘As soon as Weissmann called me, I realized there was a good chance they had seen me.’
‘Why the look of shock, then?’
‘I am only very surprised they should have told you this. After all, who are you?’
‘Don’t try to turn the questioning around.’
‘Are you particularly expert?’
‘No,’ said Blume.
‘Then you must have a direct interest in this. What is the link between you and Megale?’
‘The questions are still flowing in the wrong direction, Konrad. I have already levelled with you. Time to reciprocate. Give me something I can put in a report.’
‘I am observant,’ said Konrad. ‘I saw immediately that you have no ring on your finger, but you have a girlfriend.’
‘She is above all a colleague,’ said Blume.
‘Tell me about your relationship with this woman.’
‘Fuck off.’
