‘It’s been working for two thousand years, even for stubborn people like you.’
‘You know that it seems to … ahhhh … be working.’ I groaned as she touched a sensitive point.
‘It was the first time I’ve seen you drunk.’
‘What?’
‘You know it’s not too bad knowing that you can let go every now and then.’
‘Every now and then. Usually, my problem is the opposite … yes, right there … Hey, how much do you earn with your job?’
‘The gym pays me fifteen hundred euros a month. Sometimes more. It depends on how many clients I get as a personal trainer.’
‘Can you get by on that?’
‘I can live with it.’
‘Why?’
‘You know about the trouble I’m in, don’t you?’
‘I read it in the newspapers. On a scale of one to ten how much should I be worried?’
‘Twenty. If I make it out of this you’ll have to keep me afloat until I find another job. I hope that this happens before you’re too big to put on your gym pants.’
Her hands stopped at my neck. ‘Are you serious?’ she whispered.
‘First you had a successful businessman and then wound up with an unemployed ex-drug dealer.’
‘Dealer?’
‘It’s a long story. It just means that we won’t be able to eat caviar for a while.’
‘Look at me.’
‘I can’t as long as you’re on top of me.’
She moved and I rested on my elbow. Her face looked more worried than mine. ‘Why?’
‘What do you mean “why”?’
‘You know why.’
‘I don’t know how to explain this. I can’t go back to what I was, and it disgusts me to see what I’ve become.’
She sighed. ‘Do you love me?’
‘I’ve only known you for three days, but I do like you, and it’s more than I can say for everyone else I’ve met so far. If that’s enough for you … ’
It seemed like she was about to say something, then she shook her head. ‘I’m going to make some dandelion tea … to cleanse.’
‘Oh, shit.’
It tasted disgusting and made me pee big time. After the fourth trip I was almost human again. I got dressed. Sally had an apartment with two rooms that were heated with electric heaters here and there. Her place was crammed with stuff. Every part of the floor was covered with rugs. The walls were covered with paintings, photos and batiks; every piece of furniture had something on it. A corner of the dresser was reserved for me. There was my picture, taken with a Polaroid while I was sitting on Sally’s bed. I’d been tying my tie. She’d obviously caught me by surprise after sex. Under the photo in a glass bowl, there was a shirt button and a fountain pen that I recognized. Mont Blanc. I took it and looked at it.
‘I found it where you fell at the Centre,’ Sally said. ‘I guess it’s yours.’
‘I had it in my pocket so I think so.’
I put it back in the bowl. ‘I see that you’ve dedicated an altar to me.’
‘If you keep something that belongs to the person who you care about, maybe something that they lost, then they will come back.’
‘See? It worked.’
Sally got dressed and started tapping on the computer keyboard in a corner of the kitchen.
‘Are you working?’ I asked.
‘No, I’m shopping. I don’t feel like carrying water bottles. The supermarket delivers here. Did you want anything in particular?’
I looked over her shoulder at a row of products.
‘How do you pay?’
‘With a bank card when they get here. You can also use a credit card but I don’t have one.’
‘I do.’
I took the Platinum from my wallet. ‘May as well have some fun until it’s cancelled.’
Sally flipped the card in her fingers. ‘How tempting … They also sell gym equipment online. We need some new fitness machines at the Cultural Centre.’
‘I still don’t know what fitness means, but get what you want.’
‘It used to be called exercise.’
‘I see.’
‘Today, I’ll just buy food, but thanks anyway.’
The portable television blabbed from the other corner of the kitchen. A group of Arabs had been taken away in handcuffs by British cops. I heard the words ‘suicide bomber’ and turned up the volume with the remote that was wrapped in tape on the table …
‘According to Scotland Yard, the suspects attempted to board the aircraft with explosives hidden in toothpaste tubes. The aviation authorities have declared that on the routes between the US and the UK from now on all cosmetic products of any nature are to be prohibited from hand luggage.’
‘Luckily no one tried to hide the bomb in their underwear. Otherwise they would have prohibited that as well.’
‘Soon airport security systems will be equipped with new technology … Here’s the report.’
In the report you could see the outline of a man walking into a metal tunnel where he was photographed, weighed and sniffed by sensors that also scanned the soles of his shoes with X-rays.
(Learn: Shoe Scanner. Learn: Retinal Imprint.)
The estimated time to complete the process was roughly thirty minutes per person. I imagined endless lines of passengers waiting for days to board without knowing if the person sitting next to them was a bomber who’d just happened to be smarter than airport security. Usually, I learned when I was a criminal, every security system changes only after there has been a breach. I would avoid flying until the war was over. I had the feeling that it would never end. I remember when Peter Arnett began talking about the bombs over Iraq, and now the bombs were still there fourteen years later. World War II had been shorter.
Sally was putting on her boots. ‘I’m going to my Pilates class. What are you up to?’
I switched off the TV and looked at the clock. It was almost noon. Max. ‘I’m going to do a little research, so don’t turn off the computer. I don’t know if I’ll be here when you get back but I’ll leave my pen, so don’t worry, I’ll be back.’
‘Ragiul has my house keys. You’ll find him at the Islamic Centre or at the call centre. He also has your car keys.’
‘He’s got my keys?’
‘Yes. You parked the car against the building entrance and I had him move it. Just pull the door behind you.’
‘Talk to your neighbours, I don’t want them to beat me up for what happened.’
She gave me a kiss and didn’t seem to notice my bad breath. ‘Don’t worry; I’ve got you back. If anyone bothers you they’ll have me to deal with.’
I finished the herbal tea. It was cold and disgusting. I sat in front of Sally’s computer. There was no password. The screensaver was a picture of Sally surrounded by small girls. Did I really tell her that I wanted to live with her? I must have been out of my mind! I got the iPod from the bed and the instructions manual from my coat pocket. It said that I needed the computer to charge it. I found the right slot and connected the wire; a list of songs appeared miraculously on the screen (Learn: iTunes). I pressed OK. The iPod filled up while I checked for Holy Blood Community.
The pictures on the website were similar to the ones that I had seen at the Flock gathering. People, young and old, happily busted their butts in country life. The headquarters were about an hour south of Milan by car. There were also several branches throughout Italy. A map gave directions for those who cared to join on Sundays for food, drink and prayers. It was Saturday and I hoped that my membership in The Flock would get them to bend the rules a little. The iPod was at fifty per cent. I turned on my phone and called my lawyer.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Not well,’ she grumbled.
‘Some good news every now and then would be nice.’
‘Sorry, I’m tired; Saturdays are usually my days off. They got Manzi.’
‘Yeah, I know. If they’re going to arrest me will the
y let me know before?’
‘Where do you live, Disneyland?’
‘I was just wondering. Listen, I wanted to tell you that I’m doing some research. I’ll let you know something soon, I hope.’
‘What kind of research?’
‘Roveda’s killer.’
Sigh. ‘Santo … ’
‘What is it?’
‘Santo, you’re lying to yourself.’
‘Why?’
Her voice softened, like the voice you use with a sick person you know will never get better. ‘Santo, I believe you when you say that you don’t remember, but your amnesia came on the exact day of Roveda’s murder. You were at odds with him and you did other things that I prefer not to discuss on the phone. You have to face reality at some point.’
‘Do you think that I did it?’
‘If you want the truth, yes.’
‘I really didn’t want it, but thanks.’ I heard a beep. Monica’s name came across the screen of my phone, Incoming Call. ‘They’re looking for me. I’ll keep you posted.’ I hung up and was automatically connected to my official girlfriend.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’
‘You sound terrible.’
‘Well, it hasn’t been the best of times.’ She sounded better. ‘I tried to call you at home, but no one answered.’
Oh-oh. ‘I’m out … how’s the office?’
‘Well, today’s Saturday so I didn’t go in, but I’m sure you can imagine what it was like yesterday. Someone cut out your photo from the newspaper and hung it above the coffee machine with a caption that read, “Our Hero.” One of the guards took it down straight away.’
‘Funny.’
‘Everyone’s asking who was the anonymous employee who gave the interview, the one who said, “B&M is completely out of control.” I think it was Pippo. Someone stole his motorcycle the other day, and he must have been in a bad mood.’
‘What kind of bike was it?’
‘I have no idea. It was black and big, that’s all I know.’
It could have been the same one that tried to kill me. Maybe that bastard got the getaway bike from the office area.
Silence. ‘Did you want to tell me something?’ I asked.
‘Why?’
‘Because you sound like you’re keeping something from me.’
‘Listen, Saint. I went to Giulio, your doctor.’ She seemed embarrassed. ‘We talked about your amnesia. He said that it could have some value in court … in case … well.’
‘You too? I’m innocent, goddammit! Doesn’t anybody believe me?’
She began to sob. ‘What they’re saying, what they’re writing … ’
‘Did you read what they’re saying about your daddy?’
The tears stopped. ‘What are you insinuating?’
‘That he had more motives to kill Roveda than I did.’
‘Just so that you know, my father was at home with me when Mariano was killed. Twenty people were there, his golf buddies. I wouldn’t have expected this from you considering how much he has always helped you.’
‘Fine, see you later.’ I hung up. She tried to call back a few times and then stopped. The iPod was charged and full of random music. Jazz was playing full blast. I closed the door behind me, and a woman covered in a blue sheet from head to toe, only her eyes showing, rushed back inside her house. Ragiul was twisting a joint in front of the call centre. As soon as he saw me he began spinning my Porsche keys in his hand. I took out an earphone.
‘Nice ride,’ he said. ‘Maybe you can lend it to me sometime.’
‘If they arrest me I’ll give it to you.’ I took his joint and took two hits. I coughed.
‘Is it too strong for you, infidel dog?’
‘It’s cut with soap or something. You kids don’t know what good smoke is anymore. Where did you park it?’
‘It’s on the corner, the only free place I could find.’
‘I bet you I’ve got a ticket.’ I put the earphone back. David Bowie, “Space Oddity.”
In fact, there was a parking ticket for seventy euros. I tore it up and tossed it onto the street. It was Saturday bang in the middle of the Christmas season. Everyone was out buying presents and panettone. It would’ve been faster if I had got out and walked on cars instead of waiting in the queue. Beatles, “Hey Jude.” The outer ring road was better despite the infinite queues and lorries. Seeing that I was on empty I stopped and filled up the hundred-litre tank that cost me a fortune. Then I made my way towards Pavia. On either side there were the only hills of the Pianura Padana, the foggy bends of the Lambro river. Techno music.
Just before Sant’Angelo Lodigiano I saw the signs for the Holy Blood Community. The first signs were on a long wire mesh fence along the left side of the road that ended in frost-covered fields. In the distance, a higher barbed-wire fence stood in front of farm buildings. I could see a tractor billowing clouds of smoke. Classical music. Mozart’s Requiem.
A gate appeared about a kilometre down. I turned off the iPod and got out of the car. I buzzed the intercom that was embedded in polished stone. A video camera followed my movements. I told the female voice who I was, and the electronic gate opened. I crawled through the cobblestone driveway until I reached the parking lot. There were about fifty cars lined up inside, along with several vans with the Cibosanto logo emblazoned on the sides.
As I approached the next massive gate I began to get an idea of the true size of the community. It extended behind the line of trees. It was a whole city, whose buildings went up the side of a hill and circled around as far as the eye could see. There was a red stone church in the middle with a hundred or so two-storey white houses with green roofs surrounding it. Warehouse-type structures, silos and other buildings seemed dedicated to farming and social life. The stables were on the outskirts. A horseracing track took up the entire left side between the church and the hillside. I recognised its purpose from having placed a few bets at the races. All the residents seemed to be moving about. They walked in groups along the streets. They entered and left buildings. Some pushed wheelbarrows, shovelled, swept, played guitars, led horses, fixed bicycles, and painted walls while others landscaped. Almost everyone wore a red windbreaker.
A blonde in her thirties with a long plait was waiting for me at the gate. Her windbreaker was black with an image of Jesus (bleeding) over a heart. ‘Signor Denti’, she said, excited ‘We weren’t expecting you.’ She opened the gate with a key from a massive bunch that dangled around her waist. I went in and she locked the gate behind me. I followed her along the path that entered the piazza where there was a manger scene sculpted in wood. Christmas decorations were everywhere. There were also Virgin Marys and crucifixes on every corner. If you didn’t look at the fence that cut the horizon and the monotonous building style it could have been any other town in Italy, except that here most of the people were younger. Some of them greeted me as we passed and I responded the same way: ‘Hello.’
There was the smell of minestrone and horse manure in the air.
‘Listen, I’m not just here for a simple visit,’ I said. ‘I need information regarding a former … ’ I was about to say detainee, ‘guest of the community.’
‘You should speak to the director, Father Giulio, but he’s not here today.’
‘Is there anyone who could help me?’
‘We could ask Marta. She’s the general manager,’ the girl said while she nibbled on her plait. ‘I think she’s in the café.’ She smiled mysteriously.
I saw a black windcheater followed by a group of reds, three by three. I began to get the colour code. The blacks watched or minded others. The reds worked or rested. The greens worked in administration. I passed a yellow between two blacks. He was trying his best to put one foot in front of the other. I bet the yellows were new arrivals.
We passed a glass building: the cafeteria, still half-full of people dining. My guide pointed to a cubic building at the end of the path that vaguely rese
mbled an American town hall decorated with stars. The inside looked like my old secondary school but this place was so clean you could see your reflection in the floors. A pair of teens with buckets and brushes were washing the tiles. My guide reprimanded one of them, a yellow, for missing a spot in the corner. His face was expressionless and his eyes half-closed. Every movement seemed to require superhuman strength. He raised the brush slowly and slid it along the pavement at a centimetre an hour.
The girl knocked on the office door that was painted white like everything else. She poked her head in. ‘Marta’s not there,’ she said. ‘Can I can help you?’
‘Thanks.’
The girl came in and closed the door behind me. She threw her arms around my neck. ‘But you have to kiss me first. Don’t worry, no one will be around for another half-hour.’ She thrust her tongue into my mouth, tasting of mint. I kissed her for about thirty seconds, luckily without any wave of memory. She unzipped her jacket, and I saw that she was wearing a T-shirt with a name tag.
‘You told me that you were going to come and see me, it’s been almost a month.’ She slipped her hands down my pants. I grabbed her wrist; she didn’t move her hand. ‘C’mon, five minutes.’
‘First give me what I need, please,’ I read her tag, ‘Giovanna.’
‘Then take me to the pigsties like the last time.’
The pigsties? What fun. ‘Sure.’
She let go. ‘What do you need?’
I gave her Max’s full name.
‘I think I know who you’re talking about. Wait while I check, I have to be fast, I don’t want to get into trouble.’ She sat down behind the desk. ‘Marta always changes her password but she leaves it written somewhere.’ She hit the keys. ‘Come and see, is this him?’
A grainy image appeared on the screen. It seemed to be taken from a driver’s license. Max from around our time. That prick.
‘Yeah, that’s him.’ My voice trembled a little.
‘He doesn’t look like the picture anymore. He’s lost weight as well as his hair. He is getting treatment but his liver is in bad condition, poor thing. I wasn’t sure if this was the man that you were looking for because here everyone just called him Max.’ She leaned back against the chair, pushing out her tits. ‘There are only about two thousand five hundred of us living here so we know everything. What do you want to know?’
In a Heartbeat Page 20
