‘I don’t want to seem intrusive, but I wonder if you would possibly allow me to have a look at what you’ve managed to translate. I’d keep it completely confidential, obviously.’
‘I can’t,’ replied the director. ‘It’s too soon. I’m not at all certain of my interpretation and there are still many gaps. It’s quite complicated. You’ll have to be patient.’
‘The fragmentation of the inscription into six or seven pieces – did that happen in antiquity or was it done by the people who wanted to smuggle it out?’
‘It was done quite recently, I’m certain of it. It’s obvious they used a diamond-edged saw, those vandals.’
Why did they do it?’
‘For any number of reasons. First of all, to make it easier to transport. An intact object of that size is very visible and could easily arouse suspicion. In this case, I would imagine that the inscription was about to be taken out of the country. Any decent restorer would be able to weld the pieces back together. Or, even more likely, the fence, or the dealer himself, may have realized that more money could be had by selling the pieces one at a time. The curious thing is that the author of the ancient curse broke it down into blocks himself, so that the fragmentation of the slab did not create gaps in the text.’
‘How do you interpret that?’
‘That the author wanted to accentuate each and every part of the curse; to make it stronger, more effective.’
‘Right. I agree.’
‘The cutting was done by someone who was smart enough to saw through the slab right where the six breaks in the text were . . . Listen, Castellani, I’m sorry, but I can’t say anything more about it for the time being. You’ll just have to be patient. We’ll keep in touch. Please feel free to call me at any time if there are new developments or if you need anything.’
Balestra got up then to show him to the door, but added, ‘Please remember not to mention what I’ve told you to anyone. I’ve been working on this inscription for two years and I don’t want anything to leak before I’ve finished studying it and before . . .’
‘Before what, sir?’
‘Before the seventh fragment appears. I haven’t given up hope.’
‘You can count on my discretion.’
Fabrizio thought of the voice of that woman on the phone and for an instant was tempted to mention it to the director, but he realized that the situation was perplexing enough without this further complication. He didn’t mention the call. He took the photographs from the desk and put them back into his briefcase.
‘Have copies made and send them to me, please,’ said Balestra.
Fabrizio nodded, shook his hand and walked down the corridor to his own office.
Francesca poked her head in almost immediately. ‘What did he think?’
‘He was blown away.’
‘I believe it. You don’t see stuff like that every day.’
‘He told me about the inscription.’
Francesca seemed surprised. ‘What inscription?’ she asked.
Fabrizio turned and walked to the window. He stood watching people pass in the street below. Opposite was a souvenir shop with a bad copy of the lad of Volterra in the window. He said, ‘Do you really feel we need to continue this game? The inscription in six fragments that Balestra is trying to translate.’
Francesca came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.
‘Listen, it’s not that I don’t trust you,’ she said in a conciliatory tone. ‘Balestra ordered me not to breathe a word about it to anyone and I’ve kept my promise. It’s a hot find. There’s still a piece missing and he—’
‘He also made me swear not to talk about it and, what do you know, here I am talking to you. I know about the missing piece.’
‘Well?’
‘Francesca, I want you to get me the translation. You have access to his office and you could manage it.’
‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘Then I’ll get it myself.’
‘You’re crazy. I’ll tell the carabinieri.’
‘You’re a fool who doesn’t realize what trouble we’re in and how dangerous this situation has become. For me, especially, but for you as well. Do whatever the hell you want, but stay away from me.’
Francesca looked at him in shock and, without managing to say a word, walked out and slammed the door behind her.
7
FABRIZIO GATHERED his papers and walked towards the exit. He stopped for a moment, instinctively, to look at the lad in room twenty. The cloudy sky covering Volterra cast a grey light through the window that enveloped the statue, spreading a pale green reflection on his scrawny shoulders. There weren’t many visitors, but each one stopped and glanced repeatedly up from their guidebook, as if trying to understand what no guide could explain: the mysterious feeling of longing that hovered around the boy, as if the inconsolable grief of his loving parents still floated in the air like a light fog after thousands of years.
He walked down the stairs and was heading out when he found Francesca leaning against the door jamb.
‘She must be pretty,’ she commented, turning towards him.
‘Who?’
‘That Sonia. They’re expecting her at the museum tomorrow and everyone’s already having fits.’
‘She does have a nice figure, but she’s not my type.’
‘Good.’
‘Why?’
‘Because. Did I make you angry earlier?’
‘I made you angry.’
‘You were very rude.’
‘You let me down. I thought I could count on you.’
‘That was no reason to talk to me that way. Don’t try it again.’
‘What’s that, a threat?’
‘Take it as a warning.’
‘I’m upset.’
‘I can see that. Get over it. I’d invite you for coffee but you’re too agitated as it is.’
Francesca walked towards a cafe a few steps away and Fabrizio followed her in. They ordered a cappuccino and a tea.
Fabrizio looked into her eyes intently. ‘Were you the one on the phone?’
‘What phone?’
‘The one that rings at two a.m. in the museum corridor and tells me—’
Francesca shook her head and looked bewildered. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Forget it. Pretend I never said anything.’
Francesca reached her hand across the table to touch Fabrizio’s while looking out of the window as if something else had caught her attention. ‘I’m willing to help you.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes. But it won’t be easy. Balestra’s files are bound to be protected by a password. He’s very careful on the computer.’
‘We could do it at night while I’m working on my research. I know how to turn off the alarm. We’ll go into his office and—’
Francesca shook her head. ‘Forget it. His office has a separate alarm that goes directly to the carabiniere station right around the corner. In ten seconds flat you’d find Sergeant Massaro at the door in full combat gear asking embarrassing questions. And don’t you feel at all bad about betraying Balestra’s trust in you?’
‘Of course I feel bad,’ replied Fabrizio, ‘but I have no choice. I asked him if I could take a look at it, right there in his office, but he refused. And yet I could tell by how he reacted that he’s instinctively linked the text to these murders that have taken place in Volterra. What’s more . . .’
‘What?’ insisted Francesca when Fabrizio didn’t go on.
‘He’s linked it to the tomb of the Phersu as well . . . at least, that was my impression.’
‘It sounds to me like someone’s going nuts here.’
‘That’s probable. But in the meantime two people have been slaughtered and I’m not sure that it’s over, seeing as Reggiani is running out of ideas. So how do you say we do it?’
‘Open the files? Don’t ask me. I have no idea. Let me think about it. In the meantime, don’t screw things up. L
et me do this my way. I’m the only one who can manage it. Anyway, if I do succeed, this has to remain an absolute secret between us or I’m done for. Understand? If Balestra suspects me in any way I’m out of a job. Do we have a deal?’
Fabrizio nodded. ‘Thank you, Francesca.’
‘Right. Well, I’ve got things to do. I’ll let you know when I find something.’ She brushed his cheek with a light kiss, then went out.
SONIA VITALI arrived at the museum late the next morning, after checking in at the Corona, an inexpensive hotel near the fortress. Fabrizio introduced her to the director, then took her straight downstairs, where he’d set up some tables and lights to make their work a little easier.
‘I started to separate the human bones from the animal ones, but I didn’t get very far, as you can see.’
‘Good God!’ exclaimed Sonia as soon as she had seen the skeleton. ‘It’s even bigger than I thought.’
‘How do you want to go about this?’ asked Fabrizio.
‘I want to reassemble it in a standing position. We’ll put it on exhibit when I’m finished, with a virtual reconstruction. Won’t that be something?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure it will,’ he replied without enthusiasm. ‘How long do you think it will take?’
‘I’m not sure . . . It’s not something you can just improvise. It’s very delicate work. I have to find all the junctures, create supports . . . You know how it is. You figure it out as you go along. So what about your statue? Is your research proceeding?’
‘No. I haven’t been able to get to it. This damn tomb came up and I had to excavate it, remove all the material, the whole deal. The director had too much work on his hands and his inspectors were all busy as well.’
‘Well, this is one hell of a find, as far as I can tell.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Keep it to yourself for the time being. I don’t want the press in on this.’
‘No problem. I just want to be able to work in peace. I’ll start by taking some photographs and then we’ll see. Who knows, I might get inspired.’
Fabrizio got ready to leave.
‘What’s there to do here at night?’ asked Sonia, her eye to the viewfinder of her digital camera.
Since the tourist season was over and Volterra was settling into a wintry sloth, the question seemed entirely rhetorical, but Fabrizio made an effort not to notice.
‘There are a few good restaurants and the theatre programme for the autumn isn’t half bad . . . a couple of cinemas and a club or two, I think. I haven’t had much time to get out.’
Sonia mumbled something under her breath as Fabrizio went up the stairs to return to his office.
REGGIANI walked in about five.
‘I brought back your tooth,’ he said, placing the ivory-coloured fang on Fabrizio’s desk.
‘Thank you. My colleague has already begun to examine the skeleton, so I’ll have to sneak it back in place. Can you tell me what you needed it for?’
‘I showed it to Dr La Bella, our medical examiner, and he tested it in the wounds of the two cadavers. Said it was a perfect fit.’
‘Interesting, but no use for your investigation, I suppose. I wonder why you even thought of doing such a thing, since skeletons don’t normally go around sinking their fangs into people.’
‘Curiosity,’ replied Reggiani. ‘Pure curiosity. When your colleague has finished examining the bones, we’ll certainly know more about this animal, but I’m afraid we may have more trouble in the meantime. By the way, you live out in the country, don’t you?’
Fabrizio felt a sudden jolt of apprehension. ‘Yes, that’s right. At the Semprini farm in Val d’Era.’
‘Be careful when you go home tonight. Park in front of the door and lock up everything once you’re inside.’
‘I can take care of myself, Lieutenant,’ Fabrizio assured him. ‘I have an automatic five-round Bernardelli and I keep it loaded. I have a hunting licence, naturally.’
‘Keep your eyes open anyway. Those two I just had another look at in the cooler knew their way around, and they were armed as well. Last time we saw each other there was something you wanted to tell me. Have you changed your mind?’
Fabrizio hesitated, thinking that perhaps the voice might never bother him again, but then he decided it was best to let Reggiani in on all the strange things that had happened to him since he’d arrived in Volterra.
‘It happened the first night, just after I got here. I was in the museum, working on my research: I’m studying the statue of the boy that’s in room twenty. Do you know the one I’m talking about?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ replied Reggiani. ‘It’s the one that looks like a Giacometti sculpture.’
Fabrizio was favourably impressed by Reggiani’s art savvy. He said, ‘That’s the one. There’s something odd about the casting that I’m trying to figure out. Well, as I was there with the statue, absorbed in my work – it must have been some time before two in the morning – the phone rings. A woman’s voice says, “Leave the boy alone,” and hangs up. I was shocked at first, because I couldn’t understand who it could be and how they could possibly know what I was researching—’
Reggiani interrupted: ‘Dr Castellani, what exactly . . . Wait, can’t we do this on a first-name basis? I don’t think I’m much older than you are.’
‘Absolutely, it’s Fabrizio. What’s your name?’
‘Marcello.’
‘Well, Marcello, as I was saying, I was really unnerved by that voice in the middle of the night – what the hell could they be on about? I thought, this must be a joke, but who could be joking at my expense? I’d just got here. I hadn’t met a soul.’
‘Well, there’s no saying that the voice was referring to that “boy”. Your statue, that is. It might have been some kind of weird coincidence. Have you had any more calls?’
‘No, not lately,’ Fabrizio lied, realizing that Reggiani must have enough on his plate without having to worry about this too.
‘Then let’s take one thing at a time,’ said the officer. ‘I’ll see if I can get a tap put on your phones, at the museum and at the Semprini place. I can’t imagine they’d call on your mobile phone, or do many people have your number?’
‘No, just family and a few close friends. I hate being bothered at all hours.’
‘Right. If we’re lucky and they try again, we should be able to trace the call, figure out who’s placing it. But luck is something we’ve been a bit short of lately.’
Fabrizio scribbled his numbers on the back of a card and handed it over.
‘If they do ring back, how should I handle it?’
‘Try to keep them on as long as possible so we can trace the call. A couple of minutes would be good.’
‘All right. I’ll do my best.’
‘Well, Fabrizio, we’ll be in touch soon. If you should need me for any reason, call.’ He got up to leave.
‘Marcello, can I ask you a favour?’
‘Sure.’
‘You might want to put one of your men on my colleague, Dr Vitali. She’s the one who’s working at reassembling the skeleton. She likes a good time and she can be a bit imprudent on occasion. Now is not the best moment to be wandering off on your own, especially after dark.’
‘I’ve already taken care of it,’ replied the officer.
He put on his cap, slipped on his black gloves and left.
Fabrizio went into the basement to put the tooth back in its place. Sonia wasn’t there but she’d already started her work, concentrating on the skull, which she was assembling on a platform lit by a couple of halogen bulbs. With its hollow eye sockets and huge toothy jaw, it might have seemed a grotesque mask, if he didn’t know the context it had been found in. She had applied little dots of putty along the chalk lines that she’d drawn on the skull, both lengthwise from the nape of the neck to the tip of the snout and crosswise from temple to temple. Each piece of putty held a pin half a centimetre long. The pins had different-coloured heads, dep
ending on the line, which he supposed identified muscles or other anatomical features. Around the earholes the pins were much longer and had yellow heads.
Fabrizio knelt and very cautiously inserted the fang into its socket, then returned to his office and got back to work. The days were becoming shorter now and the small cubicle was soon plunged into shadow. When he was forced to get up and switch on the overhead light, he realized that it was already seven thirty and that the museum was empty. He wondered where Francesca might be and felt like calling her, but then reasoned that if she hadn’t called him she hadn’t felt the need, so why should he?
He backed up his files and rose to leave, stopping on his way out to check on Sonia.
‘Would you like to get a bite to eat with me?’ he asked.
She declined his invitation. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m just too tired to go out. I’ll just have a glass of milk at the hotel and go to bed.’
‘Don’t forget to set the alarm before you go,’ Fabrizio reminded her.
He left the museum and headed towards Signora Pina’s place for some dinner.
There were still a few tourists out and about and when he turned into Piazza dei Priori he noticed quite a few people sitting outdoors at the two main cafes, having a drink before dinner. He deliberately walked between the tables so he could hear what people were talking about in the city besieged by a bloodthirsty monster and realized it was soccer. There was an early National League game that evening: Milan versus Fiorentina. Everyone was making predictions and placing bets. No one much liked the line-ups that had been announced and everyone had a smarter strategy to propose.
There was a little breeze coming from Via San Lino, carrying the scent of hay and mint all the way to the big grey-stoned square. A radio somewhere was playing an old classic, ‘Struggle for Pleasure’, and the music made Fabrizio feel melancholy, despite the quick beat. It seemed crazy that he was having dinner all alone without either one of his attractive colleagues, but Sonia was too tired and Francesca must have been busy if she hadn’t thought to call. He decided to take his time, strolling through the centre so he could check out the shop windows and bookshops. By the time he entered the trattoria, it was well past eight.
The Ancient Curse Page 8
