In the end, they covered the five hundred kilometres from Rome to Cosenza in just under three hours, including a pit stop south of Naples. With the layover for the connection, flying would have taken four. Once the initial thrills of this crash course in extreme driving had worn off, Martin got busy with his rental phone. Okay, so this place was abroad. He knew what you did with broads. Someone fucks and someone gets fucked was the rule everywhere. Martin was sporting his Bluetooth, he was eager and armed. First up was the US consulate. They were as helpful as they had been during his earlier contacts with them, but apparently had nothing new to report on the Newman case.
‘The officer in charge is called Aurelio Zen,’ the consular official informed Martin. ‘Let me spell that. Well, yeah, “aw-reelly-oh” is how it might look to you, but “ow-raily-oh” is how they pronounce it here. Anyway, I suggest that you get in contact with him tomorrow, if only for form’s sake. It would just make everything go more smoothly. Do you have an interpreter? I can fix one up for you if you want.’
‘An American?’
The official hesitated.
‘I do know someone, but she’s vacationing right now. But I have a whole list of Italians who speak English better than most Americans. Hey, only kidding! They’re students, so they’d be glad to make some money.’
I’ll bet, thought Martin. Students could be bought cheap, but there was no knowing who else might offer them a cut above the agreed rate to pass on details of the conversations they had been party to. You could trust Italians to drive cars, but much of what Martin would need to discuss came under the heading of highly sensitive and strictly confidential information. If any word of what Rapture Works was really up to in Calabria leaked out, the whole project would be blown sky high in no time, and Martin’s job with it.
‘Thanks, I’ll think it over.’
‘The other thing is Newman’s son, Thomas. You’ll probably want to meet with him too. He’s at a hotel in the centre. Let me give you the number.’
Martin dialled it next. The desk clerk put him through to the room, where the phone rang and rang. Martin was about to hang up when a bleary voice answered.
‘ Pronto.’
Martin wondered what the hell the Lone Ranger had to do with it.
‘Give me Tom Newman,’ he stated crisply.
‘That’s me.’
‘Oh, hi, Tom. My name is Martin. I’m a business associate of your father. All of us at the company are just shocked at what’s happened, so I’ve been sent out from the States to see if we might be able to provide any help on the ground. I’ll be arriving in Cosenza momentarily. I don’t know how you’re fixed for this evening, but I’d sure appreciate it if we could touch base at some point.’
Martin manufactured an embarrassed chuckle.
‘I’m kind of like the new kid on the block here, so it would be real helpful to have someone who can bring me up to speed on the background and the current state of play. If you’re free, that is.’
‘Free as the wind,’ the voice replied tonelessly.
‘Well, how about dinner? I’m staying at a different hotel, but what say I swing by your place about six? Do you know somewhere that does good food?’
‘Sure, but they don’t really get going till eight.’
‘They don’t?’
‘Nowhere does.’
‘That late? Wow, this is seriously foreign. Still, when in Rome, I guess! Okay, how does a quarter of eight sound? Good speaking with you, Tom.’
Martin’s next call, to Phil Larson, was pitched in a rather different register.
‘Nguyen. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Anything new?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Any fresh ideas about narrowing the search area?’
‘Not till someone firms up the variables in the equation for me, Mr Nguyen.’
‘I’ve got a team doing that right now. They’ll email me their conclusions by midnight tonight local time. When do you start work?’
‘We get to the site at five-thirty and airborne around six.’
‘Be there no later than five tomorrow. I need to brief you.’
The next call was the one that Martin had been dreading, but it had to be made. After ploughing through a security cordon of call-catchers, he finally got Luciano Aldobrandini on the line. At least the great director spoke excellent English.
‘Good of you to take my call, maestro,’ Martin gushed.
‘I’d told Pippo that I was at home to nobody, but money doesn’t speak, it shouts, as your famous cantautore put it. What can I do for you, Signor Nguyen?’
Martin gave out the warm guffaw of a door-to-door salesman working up to his pitch.
‘Well, maestro, I just flew into Rome so I thought I’d give you a call.’
‘You are in Rome now?’
Aldobrandini’s tone was not welcoming.
‘No, no, I’m on my way to Cosenza. As you know, our representative there has gone missing and I’ve been sent over to sort out the loose ends and get everything back on track. So I was kind of wondering if we might get together at some stage and hash out any outstanding issues.’
The film director’s voice changed, perhaps consciously, to one of unctuous menace.
‘No problem at all. A berth is in preparation.’
‘A birth?’
‘At Marina di Fuscaldo, for my yacht. It’s the only place down that way to put up in season but parking’s always a problem. I had to bounce out a couple of boaters who’d had the nerve to reserve months ago. One doesn’t like to pull rank — a trifle vulgar, I always think — but sometimes it’s the only way to get what one wants. The port is in a very nice position, with a splendid view of the precipitous coastline, and only twenty minutes or so from Cosenza. Why don’t you drop by for cocktails one day, if you’re not too busy? Among his many and varied talents, my assistant Pippo mixes the best martini this side of the Pillars of Hercules.’
The director’s love of his own voice was his downfall. A moment before, Martin had been bemused, but by the time silence finally fell he was back on task.
‘So when do you plan to start shooting, maestro?’
‘We dock tomorrow afternoon and I propose to get down to work as soon as possible after that. I’ve spent months planning this project and have achieved as much as I can at the theoretical level. My creative juices don’t really get flowing until the cameras start to turn, so I naturally want to move on to that stage as soon as possible.’
‘I see,’ replied Martin.
‘I doubt it, but that’s irrelevant. What I need from you is the money which you are contracted to pay to my agent on the first day of principal photography. I assume there will be no problem with that.’
‘No, no. No, of course not.’
‘Then I think we have nothing further to discuss at present. My cell phone has noted your number and I shall be in touch as soon as my ship comes in, so to speak.’
Martin Nguyen hung up and stared forwards through the windscreen. They had been sweeping up a long curve along the flank of a mountain range, but the magisterial progress of the Mercedes was now impeded by two articulated lorries engaged in a truckers’ duel on the steep gradient. Clearly frustrated and humiliated at being able to go no faster than seventy, Martin’s driver sent his vehicle darting to this side and that like a hummingbird, probing for an opening, then rammed his foot down and surged forward through a momentary gap between the two giant vehicles.