di mare and coda di rospo in tomato sauce, telling himself that,
because he drank only a quartino of their house white wine and limited
himself to a single grappa, it was a light meal and would entitle him
to have something more substantial that evening.
He looked into Signorina Elettra's office on his way up to his own, but
she was gone. His heart dropped, for he feared that she had left for
the day and he would have to wait until
the following day to learn about Filippi. But she did not disappoint.
At three-thirty, just as he was considering going down to ask Vianello
to have a look on the computer, she came into his office, a few papers
in her hand.
'Filippi?' he asked.
'Isn't that the name of a battle?'
'Yes. It's where Bruto and Cassio were defeated.'
'By Marc' Antonio?' she asked, not at all to his surprise.
'And Ottaviano,' he added for the sake of correctness. 'Who then went
on, if memory serves, to defeat Antonio.'
'It serves she said, placing the papers on his desk, adding, 'A tricky
lot, soldiers.'
He nodded at the papers. 'Do they lead you to that conclusion, or does
the battle of Filippi?'
'Both,' she answered. She explained that she would be leaving the
Questura in an hour because she had an appointment and left his
office.
There didn't seem to be more than a dozen sheets of paper, but they
contained an adequate summary of both men's rise through the ranks of
the military. After graduating from the San Martino Academy, Filippi
went on to the formal military academy in Mantova, where he proved to
be a mediocre cadet. Filippi finished in the middle of his class,
beginning a career that had little to do with battle or its many
dangers. He had spent his early years as 'resource specialist' in a
tank regiment. Promoted, he had served for three years on the staff of
the military attache to Spain. Promoted again, he was posted as
executive officer in charge of procurement for a regiment of
paratroopers, where he remained until his retirement. Glancing back at
Filippi's first posting, Brunetti's attention was caught by the word,
'tank', and his mind flew instantly to his father and the rage into
which that word would catapult him. For two of the war years, while
the Army staggered under the command of General Cavallero, ex-director
of the Ansaldo armaments complex, Brunetti's
father had driven one of their tanks. More than once he had seen the
men of his battalion blown to fragments as the armour plating shattered
like glass under enemy fire.
Toscano had enjoyed a similarly un-bellicose career. Like Filippi, he
had risen effortlessly through the ranks, as though helped along by
gentle puffs of wind from the cheeks of protecting cherubs. After
years in which he had certainly never been disturbed by the sound of
shots fired in anger, Colonello Toscano had been appointed to serve as
military adviser to Parliament, the position from which he had been
encouraged to retire two years before. He now served as professor of
history and military theory at the San Martino Academy.
Beneath the two pages bearing the letterhead of the Army were two more
containing lists of property owned by Filippi and Toscano and by
members of their families, as well as copies of their most recent bank
statements. Perhaps they both had rich wives; perhaps both came from
wealthy families; perhaps both had been careful with their salaries all
those years. Perhaps.
Years ago, when he first met Paola, Brunetti had limited himself to
phoning her only every few days in the hope of disguising his interest
and in the equally vain hope of maintaining what he then defined as his
male superiority. The memory of this awkward restraint came to him as
he dialled Avisani's number in Palermo.
But Avisani, when he heard Brunetti's voice, was as gracious as Paola
had been, all those years ago. 'I've wanted to call you, Guido, but
things are crazy here. No one seems to know who's in charge of the
government.'
Brunetti marvelled that a reporter as experienced as he should think
anyone would find this worthy of comment but said only, 'I thought I'd
call. And nag.'
'It's not necessary,' Avisani answered with a laugh. 'I've had a trawl
through the files, but the only thing I could come
up with aside from what I told you last time is that both of them,
Filippi and Toscano, own enormous amounts of stock in Edilan-Forma.'
'What does 'enormous' mean?'
'If you've managed to convert to thinking in Euros, perhaps ten million
each.'
Brunetti made a low humming noise of interest then asked, 'Any idea how
