The Ancient Curse (28 page)

‘I have one last question to ask you . . . for now.’

She eyed him in silence with her grey and apparently absent look, as if she wasn’t even seeing him. Some time ago she must have been a woman of uncommon beauty, that aggressive, brazen beauty that can drive a man mad.

‘You’ll remember when I came looking for you that day at Le Macine with my friend Dr Castellani . . .’

The woman nodded.

‘Why did you lie? Why did you say you had never telephoned him?’

Fabrizio started and leaned closer to the speaker so he wouldn’t miss a syllable of that answer, if there was going to be one.

‘I was telling the pure truth. I’d never seen him before and I would never dream of telephoning him.’

Accustomed as he was to listening to every kind of cock-and-bull story from every kind of insolent delinquent son of a bitch on earth, Lieutenant Reggiani felt sure that he would catch a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, but they remained hard and smooth as a slab of ice.

He said, ‘You can go now, but I would advise you not to leave Le Macine. My men will be keeping an eye on you, so you’d best comply.’

‘But I’ve already told you everything you wanted to know.’

‘Not everything. There’s one more question.’

‘About what?’

‘About that boy who lives with you.’

Ambra Reiter lowered her gaze and asked, ‘Where is he?’

‘In a safe place. To be frank, I would have expected you to put in a call to the carabinieri before now to report that your son had gone missing. Now you can go.’

‘But—’

‘You can go now, Ms Reiter.’

The woman got up to leave and, for the first time in eleven months, Reggiani lit up his second cigarette of the day.

Fabrizio emerged from his hiding place and walked into Reggiani’s office.

‘Can you believe the nerve of that bitch! I would have liked to look into her eyes while she was telling such an outrageous lie.’

‘You’ve seen her do it before, haven’t you?’ replied Reggiani. ‘Completely deadpan, as if she were reciting a phone number. I can assure you that if I didn’t believe you I would have believed her.’

‘If you doubt what I’ve told you, I can—’

‘I didn’t say that. I’m saying that she seemed to be telling the honest truth. You heard her yourself, right? My gut feeling was that she was telling the truth about everything. I think she realized that I will not hesitate to incriminate her if she doesn’t cooperate.’

‘What about the boy?’

‘That’s an entirely different matter. And if you want to know what I think, that’s where the greatest mystery lies. I’m convinced I did well to make you come in here with me, even though you are so tired.’

‘Absolutely . . . A lot of things are falling into place. Listen, just for a moment, let’s examine the possibility that she’s telling the truth.’

‘About what?’

‘About the fact that she’s never seen me or called me.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’ve never been more serious. Couldn’t this be a case of split personality? It’s rare, I know, but it can happen.’

‘Just what are you saying?’

‘Simply put, the Ambra Reiter who was talking to you a few minutes ago is not the Ambra Reiter who was calling me and whom I talked to at the tavern.’

‘I don’t think I’m following you.’

‘Let’s suppose that when she was calling me in the middle of the night, she was in a state of altered consciousness; her actions were controlled by a second personality.’

‘Like when someone has taken some serious dope?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Can we analyse her?’

‘I don’t think you’d get anywhere.’

‘So what are you thinking?’

‘What if she were . . . a medium?’

Reggiani shrugged. ‘Yeah, right, like the kind that makes tables dance around and spirits speak. Fabrizio, get serious. You’ll remember that I brought up the idea of using a psychic to get to the bottom of this and you were the one who talked me out of it. I honestly think you’re barking up the wrong tree here. This one may read cards, coffee grounds, that kind of thing . . . I’ll bet she has Gypsy blood in her.’

‘Well, before he died, Montanari told me that after they’d found the slab something changed in her, turned her into a harpy. That she became unrecognizable at times. You have to admit there’s something disturbing about her.’

‘There’s no doubt about that,’ he said, as his attention was attracted by the noise outside. ‘Listen to the racket those journalists are making out there. I’m here with six cadavers on my back and I still don’t have a clue. What do I tell the Secretary? The werewolf story?’

‘The Secretary?’

Reggiani rolled his head and sighed. ‘Ah, yes. The Home Secretary will be paying me a visit tonight, along with our Commander General. Both sure to be in a foul mood. You know what that means, right?’

Fabrizio looked at his watch. ‘That in four hours you’ll be sending out your shooting party.’

‘Let’s say two, as soon as it gets dark. Unfortunately, the situation has changed radically. And you can be sure we’ll be hearing the beast’s howl tonight as well. But this will be the last night, I’ll promise you that.’

Fabrizio paled. ‘But wait, you promised—’

‘I’m sorry, my friend, but this can’t wait. The lives of too many people are at risk.’

‘Listen, just give me another hour, two at the most. I have to figure out what the last part of the inscription says . . . There’s a . . . How can I get this across? . . . You’ll be putting the whole city in dire danger. It could be a disaster . . .’

‘Mediums . . . dire danger . . . Sounds like your brains are fried, my friend.’ He took his pistol out of the drawer and drew back the bolt to load it. ‘You want to know what I believe in? This.’

‘What’s going to happen?’

‘My men are stationed at the exit to the old cistern. We’ve cleared the area for half a kilometre all around. As soon as the creature shows up, we’ll unleash hell. Whatever it is, there won’t be a hair left of it. I’m sorry, Fabrizio. I have to go now. I had you come in here because I wanted you to know how we were proceeding, and I wanted you to hear Ambra Reiter’s story with your own ears. I felt I owed it to you.’

‘You’re crazy,’ said Fabrizio. ‘It’s going to be a massacre.’

Reggiani didn’t answer. Fabrizio watched as he pushed his way through the crowd of journalists waiting in the front hall.

The lieutenant then went into the locker room, took off his uniform and put on his combat gear.

18

F
ABRIZIO MET
the press himself shortly afterwards. Special correspondents and TV reporters thrust their microphones at him, figuring he must be involved somehow with the story.

Those crowding in behind the first row asked, ‘Who’s this guy? Was he with Reggiani? Does he know something?’

Others provided partial answers: ‘He’s an archaeologist . . . Someone said he’s an archaeologist. There’s got to be some connection . . .’

Then one said, ‘His name’s Castellani. Dr Castellani, a question, just one question, what were you doing with the lieutenant? What did he tell you? Is it true a woman has been arrested? Please, give us a hand here!’

Fabrizio shoved his way through, ignoring the insults and abuse hurled his way, especially from the notoriously rude Italian TV operators from Rome, and began to run down the city streets, trying to lose them in the maze of the city centre. He reached the museum and saw Mario at the security guard’s booth.

‘Dr Castellani! The director has been looking for you all week! Where have you been?’

‘I can’t just now, Mario. Please tell the director I’ll report to him as soon as possible. Is Dr Vitali here?’

‘No. She left half an hour ago but didn’t say where she was going.’

Fabrizio nodded. He swiftly made his way to the taxi stand in the nearby square and hailed the first cab he could find.

‘Take me to the Semprini farm, as quickly as you can.’

‘The place in Val d’Era?’

‘Yes. I’ll tell you the best way to get there.’

The taxi set off and Fabrizio phoned home. No answer. He tried Francesca’s mobile but it was off. Anxiety welled up inside him like a black tide, crushing him back into his seat. The regional road, then left, Val d’Era and then the track.

When the cab stopped outside the front door, Fabrizio had the fare ready. ‘Keep the change,’ he said, and jumped out. The taxi backed up and drove off.

The house was deserted, but the computer was still on, with the translation of the last part of the inscription. He noticed the handwritten note that Francesca had left for him and his heart plummeted. He feverishly dialled Reggiani’s mobile number and listened as it rang one, two, three times, his teeth clenched as he spoke aloud: ‘Answer, goddamn it, pick it up—’

‘Where are you?’ asked the lieutenant curtly at the fourth ring.

‘At home. Marcello, for the love of God, listen to me. Francesca’s down there.’

‘Down where?’

‘In the palace, underground.’

‘What the hell . . . Is she crazy?’

‘She translated the last part of the inscription and I think . . . I think that . . .’

‘What! Talk! You know my minutes are counted!’

‘I think that she believes . . . that she believes in the words of the inscription. She thinks she can stop disaster from happening. It’s too long a story to explain it all now, but do you have a flame-thrower?’

‘A flame-thrower? You’ve lost it, Fabrizio. What do you want with a flame-thrower? That’s an assault weapon, used by the special forces. I’d have to ask the ROS guys.’

‘Shit, Marcello, you are an ROS guy! You must have a flamethrower.’

‘I’m no longer operative, and even if I wanted to get one, there just isn’t time enough. Listen, don’t screw things up here. I’m about to launch the operation. Do not interfere, Fabrizio. Do you hear what I’m saying? You’d risk fucking up the whole thing, putting your own life at risk and Francesca’s as well. Wherever you are, go back to headquarters and do not move from there until it’s all over. We will find Francesca, understand? We will find her. You—’

The line went dead and whatever he had meant to say was cut short. Fabrizio immediately dialled Sonia’s number.

‘Hi there, handsome,’ said her voice. The connection was scratchy.

Fabrizio tried to keep calm and speak in a normal tone of voice. ‘Sonia, where are you?’

‘You said you wanted me out of your hair and I took the hint.’

‘Where are you?’ he repeated in an even, if not calm, tone.

‘I’ve just turned on to the regional road for Colle Val d’Elsa. Hey, what’s up? You sound funny.’

‘Sonia, stop as soon as you can when you see the signal is good. I have to be able to hear you clearly. First of all, I need to know if you’ve finished your work.’

The line was stronger now; Sonia must have found a place to stop.

‘Yeah, right, I told you I had. Why?’

‘What I need to know is if all the animal’s bones have been separated from the human bones. All of them, to the very last fragment. Do you understand what I’m asking?’

‘What kind of a question is that? No, obviously not. How can I tell whether all those remaining fragments are human or not? Probably some of the dog’s bones were chipped as well. You’d need a very close analysis. I’d have to take it to a lab . . . Why do you care? The skeleton looks great, so who cares about a few fragments? But now that you’re asking, maybe there are a few pieces missing. How can I be sure? First of all you scare me to death and tell me to get out of here as soon as I can, and then you tell me I should have used a microscope to finish the job. I can’t figure you out, Fabrizio. I just don’t get why you’re putting me on the spot like this.’

‘Sonia, there’s no time to explain, but if you are willing to complete the job – that is, to separate all the animal bones from the human bones – please, turn back and do it. Go back down there and sort out all the bones and then don’t move from there. Lock yourself in and open the door only if you hear my voice. Sonia, please, please, please do this for me!’

His voice sounded so desperate that Sonia’s mood changed completely. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Sonia, when it’s time I’ll tell you everything and you’ll be glad you helped me. Just tell me that you’ll do it, right away.’

‘Maybe there is a way to figure it out. The colour is slightly different, but that means I’ll need a solar colour-temperature light . . . Right, OK, I think I can handle it. You call Mario and tell him to let me in. I’ll take care of the rest.’

‘Thank you, Sonia. I knew I could count on you. I’ll call Mario right away.’

‘Listen, so when are you coming?’

‘As soon as I can, but I have to find something first. You don’t move from there and don’t open the door for anyone but me, understand?’

‘I understand,’ said Sonia, and hung up. ‘I understand that you’re completely bonkers,’ she continued, mumbling to herself, ‘but I’m too curious to see where this wild ride will end.’

F
RANCESCA
made her way through the rooms under the Caretti-Riccardi palace, lighting her path with a torch and holding Angelo by the hand. The child was strangely calm and placid.

She whispered, ‘Only you can stop him, little guy. No one else, understand?’

‘Will they kill him?’ asked the boy.

‘Maybe not,’ replied Francesca. ‘Maybe not, if you can stop him.’

She looked at her watch: it was nearly seven o’clock. At that moment the underground chambers filled with the beast’s long howl. A deep, gurgling sound, far and near at the same time, refracted and disrupted by the subterranean labyrinth.

‘I think . . . he’s still down here. Maybe in that side tunnel we saw yesterday, remember?’

Angelo nodded and tightened his grip on her hand.

‘Maybe we’re still in time to stop him . . .’

The boy was trembling all over now and squeezing Francesca’s hand hard. She could feel the sweat on his small fingers.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ she told him. ‘We’re trying to save a lot of people. We’re trying to put an end to hatred that has been festering for a very long time, to heal an old, old wound . . .’