And once again I’d been wrong. The many years of difference in their ages had done nothing to prevent her from having a relationship with the Counselor, the famous lawyer, the man who never lost a case, who’d gone into politics and was becoming increasingly famous and powerful. And corrupt. I wondered how much she knew about his business dealings. If he was just taking her to bed then maybe not much, but if the two of them were really in love then she was his accomplice and his confidante.
Ylenia interpreted my silence as an invitation to go on with a presentation of their political objectives.
“There’s no need for you to talk me into it,” I interrupted. “Let me have that prospectus.”
I was afraid that I was going to have to endure prolonged negotiations, but the prices set out in the prospectus were quite reasonable. “These aren’t the kind of prices that I was expecting,” I lied. “But given my many years of friendship with Counselor Brianese and in view of the contributions that we must all make to the party, I’m going to accept them without discussion.”
I saw a smirk of contempt play across her lips that I didn’t like one bit. I asked her to sit and chat a little longer, and to call me by my first name. I unleashed the full force of my personal charm, but to no avail. She put away her papers and stood up. She held out her hand, nicely manicured and adorned with at least 20,000 euros’ worth of rings.
“Arrivederci,” she said, without meeting my glance.
That bitch knows a lot more than she ought to, I mused. My instincts as a former guerrilla warrior and an ex-armed robber had saved my ass on more than one occasion, and now they were warning me to be wary of Ylenia. She suddenly looked like she could be a dangerous adversary or, even worse, a loose cannon. I felt like kicking myself for the idiot that I’d been. I’d known her since the day Brianese hired her, and I’d never noticed a thing.
I quickly got rid of a sales representative touting French cheeses and told the senior waiter that I was going to be away for a while.
Roby De Palma was an assiduous customer of La Nena and many other clubs, bars, and restaurants frequented by people with money. He was a private investigator, and being well known was the best way to get jobs. He mostly did small-time investigations, and I used him to check out my employees. Both when I hired them and afterward, with periodic check-ups. I wasn’t interested in running the risk of finding out too late that one bad apple had fucked up the reputation of my establishment. Roby was no genius, but the good thing about him was that he knew the right people and he managed to lay his hands on information that was completely confidential.
I hopped into a taxi and rode over to his office, in a big nondescript building in the industrial district, now almost entirely occupied by Chinese import-export companies.
When he ushered me into his office he pointed to the Gazzetta dello Sport lying open on his desk. “I was just going over an important case,” he joked.
I sat down on the office chair. “Ylenia Mazzonetto.”
“Brianese’s secretary?”
“That’s right.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything she doesn’t want people to know.”
“You’re not going to get me into trouble, are you?”
“Don’t worry. I think she’s hot and I’m curious about her.”
“You think she’s hot? Come on, don’t bullshit me! She’s cute, but there are so many choice pieces of ass at your restaurant . . . ”
I shrugged. “I’ve got a lot of money on the line in this upcoming election and she’s managing it all . . . ”
“That’s better,” he responded. “But do you have enough money for me? This is the kind of investigation that can drag out.”
“Don’t take advantage,” I warned him. “Most of all, don’t think of handing over ‘my information’ to the Padanos. I know you’ve crossed over . . . ”
He made a show of taking offense. “Who do you take me for? You know I have solid professional ethics.”
He counted the bills in the envelope that I’d handed him. “Let’s say, twice this amount, agreed?”
“Sure, when you’ve completed a first-class investigation,” I replied as I got to my feet.
“You should think about joining us,” he said as he walked me to the door. “The Padanos are the future, here.”
I extended my arms helplessly. “I’ve been joined at the hip with Brianese for far too long and La Nena is going to be his reception space during the election campaign . . . It’s too late to change course now.”
“It’s not like you’d have to have a membership card . . . ” he commented. “Shit, I remember when my dad used to carry four or five party membership cards: Christian Democratic Party, Italian Socialist Party, and even the Italian Social-Democratic Party, whatever the hell that ever was.”
“I’ll think it over,” I lied.
At the end of a dull day the Honorable Brianese came in to drink an aperitif, accompanied by Ylenia and Nicola. He behaved the way he usually did and was especially affectionate and courteous with me. He sang my praises so that everyone could hear and announced that La Nena would be a major venue for the party’s campaign events.
“If you want to tip back a glass in the company of major figures of the Italian political landscape, you’ll have to come here.”
Then he waved me over. “You can open the back room up again,” he said in a hushed voice. “The establishment is now a public place and there are going to be plenty of journalists in here. We can’t afford to run any risks. A smart reporter can put two and two together in a flash.”
I smelled a rat. “What about my girls: they’re still available to you, right?”
“Maybe before the elections we’d all better try to be good boys. I think not until afterwards . . . ”
The Counselor stood up, apologized but said that he couldn’t stay for dinner, and then left with his trusted colleagues. I noticed Roby De Palma down his spritz in a gulp and then discreetly follow the trio.
With one deft and technically impeccable move Brianese had cut me off from all access to the important circles. With the excuse that he didn’t want to be seen in the company of individuals who might arouse the curiosity of professional busybodies, he succeeded in preventing future conversations like the one that had allowed me to discover through Domenico Beccaro the way he’d cheated me on the Dubai scam. But it didn’t make any sense that he no longer wanted to make use of my service for his supply of pretty girls. Nobody else but me could reliably protect him and his friends from gossip and scandals, and there was no question of any of them being able to keep their dicks in their pants through an entire election campaign.
I had to pretend that I was happy about the designation of my establishment, but I was actually seething with rage. The Counselor went on relentlessly mocking me. I forced myself to make my usual round of the tables with a smile on my lips.
“So Gemma, are you withstanding the temptation to light a cigarette?” I asked when I got to the table where she was having dinner with Martina.
“Certainly,” she answered proudly.
“Just think, she’s even given up her usual aperitif tonight, to stand by me in my new alcohol-free regimen,” my wife broke in.
I looked at her in surprise. “Good girl!” Then I turned to my wife: “Do you think she’s finally made up her mind to find herself a man?”
Gemma blushed. I gave her a paternal pinch on the cheek and moved on to another table.
I thought about Martina, about saying to her: “Spinning, baby, spinning,” and the peace and quiet that would come next, when I’d finally have a chance to think clearly.
A little before closing time De Palma came back. “The secretary Ylenia is screwing the Honorable Brianese,” he announced. “You know those residential hotels, designed for discretion, where you park in the underground st
ructure and use the elevator to get upstairs?”
He waited for me to nod in agreement before continuing. “This one’s outside of town and the apartment’s in the name of a company, Nasco Costruzioni SpA, that officially uses it as accommodations for the structural engineers that come in from out of town.”
“How did you manage to find out all this information at this time of night?”
He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his down jacket. “A phone call to the right person.”
The two partners who owned Nasco had attended a number of dinner parties in the back room with Brianese and enjoyed the charms of my girls. But I was careful not to tell that to the private investigator.
“I want to know if you’re asking me to keep pursuing this trail,” he asked me.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’d prefer to know exactly what you’re looking for, rather than running the risk of finding out things I really don’t want to be involved in. I can smell a distinctive aroma of shit and of politics too, but I can’t say which of the two smells is stronger.”
“You’ve been frank and I want to be just as clear. I want to know exactly how many hairs there are on the ass of Signorina Ylenia Mazzonetto, and if you happen to find out anything else, I’m ready and willing to pay the difference.”
“There’s no need. You’re a good client and this is a nice place with good food and good drink.”
He sketched out something like a military salute and turned to go.
So I’d seen clearly: Brianese and Ylenia were in a relationship and I found out late. Doing my best to be an upright and honest citizen for eleven years had made me blind, foolish, and defenseless. The Counselor had figured that out and decided that I deserved to be ripped off to the tune of two million euros. I had reacted and he’d been forced to adopt a counterstrategy to keep me on ice, but the message was unmistakable: he was still and would always remain the stronger one.
I was deeply uninterested in trying to see whose dick was longer. My only objective was to get my hands onto the 2.25 million euros that he owed me.
Time seemed to stand still. I needed Martina and the incessant swishing of the freewheel of the spinner bike. I locked up the bar and was walking briskly home when I happened to cross paths with three girls out strolling, carefree, chatting and smoking. I changed direction.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” said Gemma in a voice that quavered slightly.
I extended my foot inside the door and then withdrew it quickly. “I can come in or I can pretend I was never here. What should I do?”
She swallowed. “You can come in, if you want.”
I did the same thing with my foot, but very slowly this time. “This game has different rules: I’ll come in only if you ask me. I promise you, though, if I come in, nothing will ever be the same.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“I just want you to be well aware of what’s going to happen,” I murmured. “I’m the Big Bad Wolf, and I gobble up Little Red Riding Hood and then I take the grandmother and the hunter and I fuck them both in the ass.”
She closed her eyes to enjoy the shiver that was running up and down her back. “Come in.”
I left the apartment a few hours later. Gemma, nude and drunk, was smoking and crying, curled up on a sofa.
My wife was on the sofa too. She must have waited up for me and then fallen asleep. On the large and expensive plasma screen scenes from an old television series were flowing past. I went to take a shower to get the smell of Gemma off me.
“Sorry if I fell asleep,” Martina apologized the next morning as she poured my coffee. “You must have come home late and I didn’t hear you.”
I said nothing. I just looked at her. Actually I was thinking about something else, and specifically I was musing that I couldn’t believe that Brianese would take the risk of making use of a network of women of easy virtue without a corresponding certificate guaranteeing total discretion. He had too much at risk and for the most part his business partners were individuals of the stature of Domenico Beccaro, ready to engage in foolish and reckless behavior with women very different from the ones they’d married, and then brag about it like little boys. My beautiful girls, in contrast, were fleeting apparitions between silk sheets in the beds of unfamiliar villas, and even if cops and investigating magistrates focused on reconstructing dates, locations, and situations, they wouldn’t be able to lay their hands on anything solid.
As far as I knew, there were no organizations capable of offering that same level of security. The only possible explanation was that Brianese himself had assigned one of his clients to take care of it, and suggested the proper methods and procedures.
I grabbed Martina by the shoulders. “I’m expecting you to come up with something appropriate tonight.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “Of course, darling. Tell me how you’d like me to . . . ”
I raised my voice slightly. “Maybe for once you could make the effort and use a little imagination, what do you think?”
Nicoletta arranged to meet me in a shopping mall in a neighboring province where she had paid a call on a woman she worked for. She had the Chinese girl with her. She’d named her Lin. She’d given the same name to all the Chinese girls she’d managed before this one. They were all the same to her.
“Go look at some shop windows,” I ordered Lin.
“Are you in a bad mood? Is there some problem?” my partner asked.
“Brianese has cut us off. At least until after the elections.”
“Is there a reason?”
“He said he doesn’t want to run risks.”
“Bullshit,” she snarled. “During election campaigns all of them fuck like rabbits. Orgies, betrayals, new alliances, expressions of gratitude. You name it, it’s an occasion for sex . . . ”
“Well, whatever the reason, we’re out. We need to make a decision.”
“Shutting down the operation makes no sense,” Nicoletta shot back with determination. “We have the girls, the houses, we know how to do this . . . it’ll be tough at first but in a few months we can put together a nice network of customers.”
“What kind of network?” I asked. “There’ll never be enough of a critical mass just working with foreign businessmen and I can’t send you people from La Nena or even spread the word. That’s the easiest way to wind up in jail.”
“I’ve made investments and I can’t risk losing everything.”
“Neither can I,” I said to myself, thinking of La Nena. “In a little while time’s up for this group of girls,” I announced. “And while on the one hand we’re technically in the black because we sell them for twice what we paid for them, on the other hand we have to dress them, train them . . . I don’t think it’s worth it.”
“I agree. I think we need to hold onto these four until we can get through the crisis.” She could see I was skeptical. “Trust me. I have these girls living in a world of cocks, lingerie, reality shows, and South American and Chinese soap operas. They don’t know anything dangerous.”
I wasn’t completely convinced, but maybe it was worth giving it a try for a few months; after all, in terms of sales we wouldn’t be losing anything.
“All right,” I snorted with some exasperation. “Keep me posted. I’ll take a look around and see if we can find a politician to take Brianese’s place, though I don’t have very high hopes.”
As I headed back into the center of town I did some rough calculations. With the revenue from the election campaign I’d be able to cut La Nena’s losses considerably, but I’d still have to put a little of my own money into it to close the books without a loss, and the whores weren’t bringing in the money that they used to. It was a mess. My future increasingly hung from the money that Brianese had promised to pay me back.
Three days later, Roby De Palma showed
up at lunchtime. “Do you have a minute to drop by my office this afternoon?”
“Today we’re serving pasta fagioli and baccalà alla vicentina, accompanied by a spectacular red Tokaj,” I tempted him. “If you want, pick a table and we can chat after you have dessert.”
He pointed to a couple that was enjoying an antipasto made of shredded air-dried horsemeat. “I’ll sit over there. The man is a dentist and I need a couple of cavities filled . . . ”
Martina was tired. She’d taken care of her father all morning. I took pity on her and told the waiter to bring her a slice of pinza, a pastry dating back to the earliest Venetian tradition, made of cornmeal and dried fruit. She blew me a kiss from the table.
At 2:30 on the dot the kitchen closed, and latecomers had to settle for sandwiches and cold dishes. Roby De Palma was sipping his second grappa when I waved to him to join me in the back room.
“I’ve never been in here,” he said.
“It used to be a private space, for corporate clients only, but now I’m making it available to all my clients. Even the biggest companies are trying to save money these days.”
The private investigator booted up a laptop. “After we’re done I’ll give you a flash drive with the report and the pictures.”
I sat down beside him. “Did you find what I’m looking for?”
“I couldn’t say,” he said. “I just know I’m not taking this any further.”
“You must have your good reasons.”
“I don’t want to make any enemies,” he said. “In this line of work, I can make a very nice living if I stick to the lower levels, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Should I start from the day she was born or should I skip the preliminaries?”
“Get straight to the point, Roby.”
At the End of a Dull Day Page 6
