people.
As the road bottomed out in the valley Palottino swung out and booted the accelerator, leaving the Fiat for dead.
‘For Christ’s sake!’ Zen exploded. ‘We’re supposed to be following that car!’
‘Oh, fuck. Sorry, sir, I forgot.’
‘I’ll tell you when to turn,’ Silvio Miletti told him with another sigh. These sighs were immensely expressive. The world, they seemed to suggest, had once again demonstrated its limitless capacity for stupidity, vulgarity and total insensitivity to his needs and desires. Not that this surprised him; on the contrary, he had long resigned himself to the unremitting awfulness of life. Nevertheless, each reminder was another pebble thoughtlessly tossed on to the already intolerable burden which he was expected to bear without complaint. It really was too bad!
‘So when did the gang last make contact, to the best of your knowledge?’ Zen continued remorselessly.
There was a rustle of clothing as Miletti changed position with a wriggle of his hips.
‘I’m afraid I really can’t discuss this. I’m sure you understand why.’
‘No, as a matter of fact I don’t understand at all. I’m aware that the Miletti family has not been cooperating with the police up to now, but since you have agreed to meet me tonight I assumed that you must have decided to change that attitude. I certainly can’t imagine what we’re going to talk about otherwise.’
The sigh emerged again in all its glory.
‘As far as cooperation goes, I think the fact that I was prepared to come and pick you up from your hotel is sufficient proof of my personal goodwill. In my father’s absence, however, decisions are being made jointly by the whole family, and the decision which had been made is that all dealings with the authorities are to be handled by our legal representative, Ubaldo Valesio. He will be present this evening and you will have ample opportunity to put your questions to him.’
The road ran along between two ridges, beside a small stream. The moon was almost full, and by its light the scenery looked flat and unconvincing, depthless shapes blocked out of black cardboard. Even the few clouds in the sky were as neat and motionless as a backdrop. To one side, up on the crest of the ridge, a row of cypresses and cedars led up to a ruin with a tall tower.
‘In other words, Valesio will be acting as intermediary not just between you and the gang but also between you and me?’
Zen made no attempt to conceal his irony, and Silvio’s reaction was to flare up.
‘Yes, dottore, that’s exactly what I mean! Despite what some people seem to think, I’m made of flesh and blood like everyone else and there’s only so much I can stand. I just can’t cope with anything more! I can’t be expected to!’
He broke off abruptly to tell Palottino to turn left up a narrow dirt track.
‘For over a month we have heard nothing,’ he continued in the same self-pitying tone. ‘Nothing!’
The headlights swept over rows of neatly pruned vines as the twists and turns of the steeply climbing track succeeded one another.
‘Before, they used to make threats, to rant and rave and say God knows what. That seemed bad enough at the time, but now I almost miss their threats. They seem almost reassuring, compared with this terrible silence.’
The track became a driveway lined with cedars and cypresses and suddenly the house was there before them, a fantastic affair of mock-medieval turrets and towers with fishtail embattlements and coats of arms embedded in the walls which Zen realized with a slight shock was the ruin he had caught sight of from the road below. With a satisfying spray of gravel, Palottino brought the car to a halt beside a white Volvo parked in the forecourt.
Antonio Crepi must have been on the lookout, for when Zen got out he found his host at the door to welcome him.
‘How do you like my little fortress? It’s mostly fake, of course, but nowadays such things have a charm of
As the road bottomed out in the valley Palottino swung out and booted the accelerator, leaving the Fiat for dead.
‘For Christ’s sake!’ Zen exploded. ‘We’re supposed to be following that car!’
‘Oh, fuck. Sorry, sir, I forgot.’
‘I’ll tell you when to turn,’ Silvio Miletti told him with another sigh. These sighs were immensely expressive. The world, they seemed to suggest, had once again demonstrated its limitless capacity for stupidity, vulgarity and total insensitivity to his needs and desires. Not that this surprised him; on the contrary, he had long resigned himself to the unremitting awfulness of life. Nevertheless, each reminder was another pebble thoughtlessly tossed on to the already intolerable burden which he was expected to bear without complaint. It really was too bad!
‘So when did the gang last make contact, to the best of your knowledge?’ Zen continued remorselessly.
There was a rustle of clothing as Miletti changed position with a wriggle of his hips.
‘I’m afraid I really can’t discuss this. I’m sure you understand why.’
‘No, as a matter of fact I don’t understand at all. I’m aware that the Miletti family has not been cooperating with the police up to now, but since you have agreed to meet me tonight I assumed that you must have decided to change that attitude. I certainly can’t imagine what we’re going to talk about otherwise.’
The sigh emerged again in all its glory.
‘As far as cooperation goes, I think the fact that I was prepared to come and pick you up from your hotel is sufficient proof of my personal goodwill. In my father’s absence, however, decisions are being made jointly by the whole family, and the decision which had been made is that all dealings with the authorities are to be handled by our legal representative, Ubaldo Valesio. He will be present this evening and you will have ample opportunity to put your questions to him.’
The road ran along between two ridges, beside a small stream. The moon was almost full, and by its light the scenery looked flat and unconvincing, depthless shapes blocked out of black cardboard. Even the few clouds in the sky were as neat and motionless as a backdrop. To one side, up on the crest of the ridge, a row of cypresses and cedars led up to a ruin with a tall tower.
‘In other words, Valesio will be acting as intermediary not just between you and the gang but also between you and me?’
Zen made no attempt to conceal his irony, and Silvio’s reaction was to flare up.
‘Yes, dottore, that’s exactly what I mean! Despite what some people seem to think, I’m made of flesh and blood like everyone else and there’s only so much I can stand. I just can’t cope with anything more! I can’t be expected to!’
He broke off abruptly to tell Palottino to turn left up a narrow dirt track.
‘For over a month we have heard nothing,’ he continued in the same self-pitying tone. ‘Nothing!’
The headlights swept over rows of neatly pruned vines as the twists and turns of the steeply climbing track succeeded one another.
‘Before, they used to make threats, to rant and rave and say God knows what. That seemed bad enough at the time, but now I almost miss their threats. They seem almost reassuring, compared with this terrible silence.’
The track became a driveway lined with cedars and cypresses and suddenly the house was there before them, a fantastic affair of mock-medieval turrets and towers with fishtail embattlements and coats of arms embedded in the walls which Zen realized with a slight shock was the ruin he had caught sight of from the road below. With a satisfying spray of gravel, Palottino brought the car to a halt beside a white Volvo parked in the forecourt.
Antonio Crepi must have been on the lookout, for when Zen got out he found his host at the door to welcome him.
‘How do you like my little fortress? It’s mostly fake, of course, but nowadays such things have a charm of
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