he was finding, Vianello grunted and moved his right finger. This process continued until he got to the fourth item on the list, at which he looked up at Brunetti and smiled. 'Well?' Brunetti asked.
Vianello turned the book around and pushed it across the desk. On the right-hand page Brunetti saw, in capital letters, BAR, followed by the first few dozen names of the alphabetical listing of the hundreds of bars in the city. Vianello's broad forefinger passed into his field of vision and drew his attention to the left-hand page. He understood instantly: BANCHE. Of course, banks. So the list was a series of abbreviations of their names, followed by the account numbers.
‘I also know a three-letter Cambodian monetary unit beginning with K, sir’ Vianello said.
8
After a few minutes' discussion, Brunetti went downstairs and made a few photocopies of the paper. When he came back, he and Vianello wrote out the full names of the banks beside each of the abbreviations. When they had them all, Brunetti asked, 'Are you good enough to get into them?' leaving it to Vianello to infer that he meant with a computer and not with a pickaxe and crowbar.
Regretfully, Vianello shook his head and said, 'Not yet, sir. She let me try it once, with a bank in Rome, but I left a trail so broad that a friend of hers sent her an email the next day to ask her what she thought she was doing.'
'He knew she did it?' Brunetti asked.
'The man told her he recognized her technique in the way I first entered the system’
'Which was?' Brunetti asked.
'Oh, you wouldn't understand, sir’ Vianello said in a haunting echo of the cool, objective tone Signorina Elettra used and which the inspector had probably learned from her. 'She started me off using an opening code, then she let me try to find a specific piece of information.'
'Which was?' Brunetti said, adding, 'if I might ask.'
'She wanted me to see if I could discover how much money had been transferred into a particular account from a numbered account in Kiev.'
'Whose account?' Brunetti asked.
Vianello pressed his lips together, considering, and then named the Assistant Minister in the Department of Commerce who had been most active in arranging government loans to the Ukraine.
'Did you find out?'
'Alarm bells’ Vianello began, then explained, 'figuratively, that is – began to sound. So I got out as quickly as I could, but not before I'd left very obvious signs that I'd been in there’
'Why would she want to know something like that?' Brunetti mused.
'I think she already knew, sir’ Vianello said, then added, 'In fact, I'm sure she did. That's how she knew how to help me get in.'
'Did she explain to her friend?' Brunetti asked.
'Oh, no, sir. That would just have made it worse, if he knew she was helping the police’ 'You mean none of these people she asks for
help knows where she works?' asked an astonished Brunetti.
'Oh, no. That would be the end of it, if they did.'
'Then where do they all think she's working?' He had some vague idea that any messages she sent must be traceable to the Questura. They all had email addresses: he'd even used his a few times, and he knew it was perfectly clear that it was at the Venice Questura.
‘I think she reroutes things, sir,' Vianello said cautiously.
Though Brunetti wasn't clear how this could be done, the verb made it clear that it had been done. 'Reroutes it how, through what?'
'Probably her last working address.'
'The Banca d'ltalia?' asked an astonished Brunetti. At Vianello's nod, Brunetti demanded, 'Do you mean she's sending and getting information via an address at a place where she hasn't worked for years?' At the second nod, Brunetti raised his voice. 'It's the national bank, for God's sake. How can they allow a person who hasn't worked there for years to use their address as if she still did?'
‘I don't think they would allow it, sir,' Vianello agreed, then explained, 'that is, if anyone there knew she was using it.'
To continue with this conversation, Brunetti suddenly realized, would lead either to madness or, more dangerously, to criminal knowledge which, at some time in the future, he might have to deny under oath. But, unable to control his curiosity, he asked, 'Did you find out?'
'Find out what?'
'How much was deposited?'
'No.'
'Did she?'
'I assume so.'
'Why? Did she tell you?'
'No. She said it was privileged information, and I couldn't have it unless I found it out myself.'
Hearing this, the expression, 'Honour among thieves', did flit through Brunetti's mind, but his admiration and respect caused him to swat it aside and return his attention to the matter at hand. 'Then we have to ask her to do this?'
‘I think so. Yes.'
Together they got to their feet and, Vianello carrying the sheet of paper with the deciphered initials, they went downstairs to see if Signorina Elettra was in her office.
She was, but unfortunately so was her immediate superior, Vice-Questore Giuseppe Patta, today wearing a cream linen suit with a black shirt, also of linen. His tie, of slate-coloured silk, had threads of the same colour as the suit running diagonally across it. Brunetti noticed, as he had failed to do earlier, that Signorina Elettra was wearing a black linen suit and a cream-coloured silk blouse. It occurred to him that, had the two of them planned this,
Patta would probably have been motivated by emulation, she by parody.
Seeing Vianello with a sheet of paper in his hand, Patta demanded, 'What's that, Inspector? Something to do with the Commissario's nonsensical idea that that woman was not murdered by the Romanian?'
'No, Vice-Questore,' a humbled Vianello said. 'It's a code I use for choosing teams for the Totocalcio.' He brought the paper out from behind him and made as if to show it to Patta, saying, 'You see, this first column is the code for the team name, and then here are the numbers of the players I think are going to…'
That's enough, Vianello’ Patta said with undisguised irritation. Then, to Brunetti, 'Unless you're busy choosing your winning teams, too, Commissario, I'd like to have a word with you.' He turned towards the door to his office.
'Of course, sir’ said Brunetti and followed him, leaving Vianello to talk to Signorina Elettra.
Patta went to his desk but didn't invite Brunetti to sit, a good sign, for it meant the Vice-Questore was in a hurry. It was almost five: Patta would barely have time for the police launch to take him over to the Cipriani for a swim and get him home in time for dinner.
'I won't keep you, Commissario. I want to remind you that this case is settled, regardless of what your ridiculous ideas about it might be’ he began, not bothering to specify which of Brunetti's ideas he found ridiculous and thus allowing himself the option of considering them all to be so. 'The facts speak for themselves. The Romanian killed that poor old woman, tried to escape the country, and then gave clear proof of her guilt by trying to escape from a routine police inspection at the border.' He put his hands together, making a steeple out of his ringers, and covered his mouth for a second with his forefingers, then separated them and said, ‘I don't want the work of this police department called into question by a suspicious and irresponsible press.'
He raised his chin and devoted his full attention, and gaze, to Brunetti. 'Have I made myself clear, Cornmissario?'
