The Rainaldi Quartet

by Paul Adam

  ‘I’d say that was a very worthy cause,’ Guastafeste said.

  ‘Let’s drink to it.’

  We sat together on the terrace and drank champagne. Then Guastafeste said he had to be going. I walked round to the front of the house with him.

  ‘She seems very nice,’ he said.

  ‘She is. She’s staying with me for a few days. Come for dinner tomorrow. I’d like you to get to know each other.’

  Guastafeste looked at me, his eyes warm with affection. Then he embraced me impulsively.

  ‘I’m glad for you, Gianni. You deserve it.’

  I watched him drive away, then returned to the terrace.

  ‘You brought it, I see,’ I said.

  Margherita handed me the violin case. I opened it and lifted out the Spohr Guarneri ‘del Gesù’. I studied it for a time, remembering the years of guilt that violin had caused me.

  ‘What are you going to do with it?’ Margherita asked.

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  I took her down to the bottom of the garden where I had prepared a bonfire of old newspapers and twigs and prunings. I lit the fire and let it blaze for a while, stoking it with more garden waste. Then I picked up the ‘del Gesù’ and held it for a time, preparing myself for what I had to do. For most of my life I have looked on violins as precious objects. Even the crudest, cheapest instruments – in my eyes – are worthy of respect for they have still taken many hours of labour to craft, and they are still as capable of making music, in their own way, as any Stradivari or Guarneri. But when a precious object is a lie – no matter how convincing a lie – it loses its right to respect. The Spohr ‘del Gesù’ was a beautiful piece of work. I could admire the skill that had gone into its construction. But I did not regard it as my own work. It was not I who had made it, but a different, corrupted luthier. And because, for all my sins, I try to be an honest man, I had now to put an end to that lie.

  I took a last look at the violin and placed it on top of the bonfire. I watched the flames lick around it, the varnish start to blister and crackle. The wood ignited, smouldering, then burning with a sudden, brilliant incandescence. I could see its shape, it was still recognisably a violin. Then its form began to change, the wood blackening, disintegrating and turning to ash as the fire consumed it. I looked away. I’d seen enough.

  ‘Why?’ Margherita said.

  ‘To free my conscience,’ I replied.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Some day I’ll tell you.’

  I took her hand in mine.

  ‘Now how about one of those duets you promised?’

  Margherita smiled. ‘I’d like that,’ she said.

  Also by Paul Adam

  Unholy Trinity

  Shadow Chasers

  Genesis II

  Flash Point

  THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

  An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

  THE RAINALDI QUARTET. Copyright © 2004 by Paul Adam. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.minotaurbooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  ISBN 0-312-35004-X

  EAN 978-0-312-35004-8

  First published in Great Britain under the title Sleeper by Time Warner Books

  First U.S. Edition: February 2006

  eISBN 9781466831407

  First eBook edition: October 2012