‘It was empty. We both knew it.’
‘Then why pull the trigger? You did not even flinch.’
‘Nor you,’ said Blume.
‘I knew absolutely it was empty.’
‘What about killing Dagmar, was that easy?’
‘Don’t take on such a moralizing tone. You never even knew her.’
‘I am just curious,’ said Blume.
‘As a matter of fact, it was not easy for me at the time. I think you’d find it easier than me, Blume.’
‘I would never kill an innocent young woman.’
‘Sure you would. You’d be even easier to persuade than I was. I can tell. You’re the type, only you don’t know it yet. Right now, take a measure of your regret for Pietro over there. Go on. How sorry do you feel? It’s not even registering, is it? You feel so completely justified and right. Not everyone is like that.’
‘I’d have let Konrad live.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. He was about to cause no end of upsets and upheavals, and in this business that means bloodshed. Killing him saved lives.’
‘Who had the other half of the Madonna picture, you?’
‘Yes, I did. Basile, he’s the local boss, says he wants to frame the two halves of the Madonna in his bar. Basile, by the way, is completely on my side, which is good news for you. And one of the reasons he is on my side is that he believes firmly that Tony set up an elaborate plot against me. The namesake killing, the arrivals of Konrad and you, the rumours of a confession by Maria Itria. So you helped my case too, by setting my wife up as a snitch. See the way you’re prepared to sacrifice a young woman for your own convenience?’
‘Not for my own convenience. I am protecting society.’
‘You have some political ideas in your mind that aren’t even yours to begin with. You love yourself so much you think certain ideas are sacred just because they happen to live in your head. My actions will probably save lives, but you don’t count them. Mafiosi killing Mafiosi is more than OK, it’s something you welcome. You get to decide whose lives are worth more. Does my wife deserve to die more than your girlfriend, what’s her name… that female inspector? Caterina, that’s her.’
‘Don’t.’
‘I’ll try not to, Commissioner, but maybe you could have thought of her beforehand. Now I go back to my family that you put in danger, I instruct them to stay put, to fight. I forgive my wife because in the end your lie became a reality and she called Arconti for help, and I tell her that anyone who knows this is in danger, and anyone who reveals it is dead, and I tell Basile and others I have a policeman in captivity, though I won’t say where, awaiting our decision.’
‘How do you know it was my lie? How do you know I was behind the altered transcript?’
‘Word gets around. If all this works out for the best, join me and you’ll find yourself meeting the most surprising people in the most unexpected places.’
‘Massimiliani informed on me?’
‘No, Commissioner. It’s simpler than that. I knew it wasn’t Arconti, because I know his style. It had to be you. All I had to do was listen and find out a few details, like where they found the transcripts — your office and in Arconti’s office after you had been in there. Logic works better than spies.’
‘You ordered the murder of an innocent man simply to intimidate an honest magistrate.’
‘Wrong again. The murder of that unfortunate Milanese man was a declaration of war against me.’
‘So you didn’t order it?’
‘I can’t order Tony Megale to do anything. What I can do, and what I did, was give him enough space to make a serious mistake. Ever since he murdered his mother — did you know he did that? Ever since then people have been waiting for someone to wipe the slate clean. There is another branch of the Megale family in Africo that is keen to see the surname purified, and will support me.’
Curmaci picked up his pistol from the table, then the shotgun and backed away towards the edge of the cave. ‘The meeting’s tomorrow. You had better hope for the best. The batteries on those lamps last for ages, but you might want to save them.’
He made broad sweeps with the shotgun pointing around the cave. ‘Some cans. An old opener. Camp stove, hope there’s still gas. Water on the right; catch it in a cup. Oh, you had better shit away from the water. That’s important.’
‘You’re leaving me here?’
‘You want me to shoot you? I’d prefer to give you the chance to think about my offer. If I come back for you in two or three days, and next week you find yourself walking on the right side of the earth and enjoying the sun, then maybe you’ll have learned to trust me a bit. I’ve got some walking to do myself now. All the way back to Ardore.’
Curmaci went towards the steel door, keeping him covered with the pistol and fading into the darkness. Blume did not see him open the door, but now he heard him close it and slide a bolt on the other side.
Curmaci’s voice came muffled through the steel. ‘Just wait for me. Trust, Commissioner, and if you can’t trust…’
But his next words were lost as he moved down the passage.
Blume stayed motionless for ten minutes examining his options. Then he stood up and went around the cavern, unhooking the four lanterns from steel nails hammered into the rock. He brought them over to the table, and turned them off one by one. After the last had gone out, he sat there, waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark. When he had been sitting there for what seemed like half an hour, he accepted that the darkness was total. He lit one lantern, and went over to the door and gave it a few kicks, each harder than the last, exorcizing the deathly silence, pleased to be able to declare his presence through noise, but managing to unnerve himself too. Hammering on doors was what the incarcerated insane did.
Over the next few hours, how many he could not tell, he twice went over with a lamp to where the body lay and looked at the white face staring as if at something on the roof behind him. Twice he raised the lantern to see what Pietro was gazing at, knowing that his action made no sense. Blume had seen many dead bodies in his time, but never one whose death he had been responsible for. He gave it a kick, then whispered, ‘Fuck you,’ and waited to see if he felt any sense of angry triumph, but he didn’t. Then he cleared his throat and said, more solemnly, ‘Sorry.’
But he didn’t feel sorry either.
He returned to the entrance, gave the door a few more kicks. It did not budge, and even if it opened, there would be no ladder at the end of the nightmare corridor outside. But he could not think of any better plan. He went back towards the table where he had seen some pieces of cutlery, a fork. He was but four steps from the table when, without any preliminary flickering, the first lamp died with the suddenness of someone switching it off. He walked till he felt himself hitting the wood.
48
Wednesday, 2 September
Locri
With just three hours to go before the Polsi celebrations began, Enrico Megale phoned Ruggiero Curmaci and said, ‘Are you coming today?’ His voice was full of excitement, perhaps because of the day ahead, perhaps because his father was there.
‘Sure,’ said Ruggiero.
‘You need a lift?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Ruggiero.
‘No? How are you getting there?’
‘By car, I suppose,’ said Ruggiero.
A few beats passed before Enrico said, ‘OK. I’ll see you there. Call us if you need a lift, OK?’
