Life? His life? I won’t be any the wiser. He seems to be steering the entire conversation to focus only on literature, on the novel, and to divert attention from his own experience. It is hard to imagine that a book that draws so heavily on current affairs and has such richness is not inspired by real life. Filippo Zuliani won’t say, but… The main thing is that Filippo Zuliani has written a real ‘American-style’ novel, sweeping in scope, inspired by a chaotic existence, and as hard-hitting as a punch in the stomach. A must-read.
16 May
The publication of Escape and the reviews in the French press make the Italian refugees anxious and angry. The Sunday afternoon meeting is likely to be crowded and difficult for Lisa, thinks Roberto. Reviving the pain, the wrench and the shock of Carlo’s death a year on, when the wounds are still raw … she is strong. Perhaps this will be the opportunity for her to reach closure, but he doubts it. He drops by to see her in the morning, with a selection of Sicilian pastries. Lisa is lounging around, demoralised.
‘This novel breaks my heart.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘The character who everyone calls Carlo isn’t the man I knew and loved. A man of passion, of conviction, a poet. Portrayed as a gang boss. He never took part in armed action. I did, you know I did, Roberto, with all that implies. I’m paying for it, I don’t ever want to talk about it again. But not him.’
‘Lisa, I know what you’re going through and I’m here.’
‘He’s assassinating Carlo a second time. A public execution. I wasn’t expecting it. Nobody had the foresight to warn me. When I found out that Cristina had put Filippo in touch with the publisher, without having the decency to say anything to me, I decided never to speak to her again, which doesn’t make life easy at work, as you can imagine.’
‘We’re going to talk about the novel at the meeting this afternoon.’
‘Without me.’
‘You have to come.’
‘No way. Last year, when I wanted to try and find out how Carlo had been assassinated, I asked for their help. Nobody lifted a finger, Giovanni told everyone I was paranoid, and no one has been in touch with me since then. I’m not prepared to forget that. And I’ve made no headway in my investigation into his death.’
‘This book is going to have political repercussions — we should all discuss it together.’
‘Political repercussions! Are you kidding? What political repercussions? Since Carlo’s death, everything we feared, like everything we wanted to avoid, has happened in spades. The Red Brigades’ declaration was buried deep, it was never discussed or commented on by anyone. The left’s programme is the same as that of the right. First goaclass="underline" massive repression of the far left, thousands of activists in prison, five thousand according to my figures, no amnesty, those turned informant, the traitors, held up as a pillar of justice and model citizens. And a new Law of Dissociation, a brilliant invention, that has hit us hard. Second goaclass="underline" clear the assassins involved in the wholesale massacres, the secret service henchmen. In less than a year, they’ve had the effrontery to clear the Piazza Fontana killers, the Brescia and the Italicus train bombers. And no one protests. So they’ll continue. Result: some of our former activists, completely disoriented, can’t stop the violence. Two more supposedly political assassinations this month, for which there is no justification now that the war is over. From that point of view, you were right: setting up Carlo was pointless, we’re big enough to commit suicide all by ourselves.’
‘I’m glad to hear you say so.’
‘And the rot is contagious. As a result of being afraid to take us back, the Italian Communist Party is on its last legs, taking with it an entire shared political culture. People don’t do politics any more in Italy, they do business, it’s the grand ball of the corruptors and the corrupt.’
She stands up, opens her arms and smiles at Roberto.
‘May I have this dance?’
‘Stop, you’re doing my head in. We know all that. Sit down and listen to me. I’m talking about the impact that this book might have here, in France. The papers say that Zuliani has applied for political asylum. If he gets it, he’ll be giving the Italian government the perfect excuse to ask the French to abolish political refugee status. You, me, lots of others, we’ll all end our lives in jail.’
Lisa eats a pastry in silence staring out at the garden, and Roberto doesn’t rush her. Then he adds, ‘The lawyers will be there. Their opinion is decisive.’
A fresh silence, then Lisa:
‘You win, Roberto, as always.’
The vast, drab room where the meeting is taking place is packed. The discussion has not yet begun. People crowd round the copious buffet and the noise level is deafening. Lisa steps into the room, tense, as if she wishes she were elsewhere. Giovanni is sitting on a table right beside the door, legs dangling, glass in hand, talking and laughing loudly.
‘Carlo’s double, betrayed and assassinated by his accomplices in a spectacular coup, I’m sure Lisa appreciates that. Conspiracy theory and showmanship, it’s all there. She could almost have penned the scenario herself.’
Lisa plants herself in front of him and hisses:
‘You’ll say anything to sound clever.’
‘And you love making an entrance. We’re quits, dear Lisa.’
Those close to both Giovanni and Lisa start telling others about the heated exchange. Roberto senses a row brewing and hastily calls for silence, then opens the meeting.
‘We’re gathered here today with our lawyers to discuss Zuliani’s book and its potential repercussions.’ People turn towards Lisa who says simply: ‘The book is a novel. Like all novels, it is of no importance, now let’s change the subject.’
While one of the lawyers explains that things aren’t quite like that, and that Zuliani, his publisher and the press are making the most of the ambiguous relations the author is alleged to have had with one of the Red Brigades leaders, Giovanni, sitting next to Lisa, leans over to her and whispers: ‘We robbed banks a few years ago, and better than Carlo. I remember a period when we were doing one a month. Nobody made such a fuss back then.’
Lisa replies in an undertone: ‘But those were different times. That’s politics for you, comrade.’
Concluding his speech, the lawyer also turns to Lisa: ‘Can you tell us what makes you so sure that this novel is entirely a work of fiction? It is important in determining how we are to proceed.’
‘Because I have learned it from two different sources. Carlo telephoned me straight after his escape. Don’t look so sceptical, Giovanni. I already told you a year ago, and I’m happy to be more specific today. When I was on a clandestine assignment in Paris, we used to have a regular telephone appointment. As soon as I read about his escape in the papers, my first reflex was to reactivate the appointment. And he called.’
She leans over to Giovanni:
‘I don’t need to tell you anything further. Satisfied? Or do you want me to tell you the place and times of our appointments too?’
Giovanni gives a dismissive wave to indicate ‘fair enough.’ Lisa goes on: ‘Carlo told me about the Red Brigades’ open letter that had just been published, about his escape — which he described as a final embodiment of “practising the objective”, the policy adopted by the movement in the autumn of ’69. In other words, highly political language. He hadn’t become a gangster. I was concerned about the young hoodlum who broke out with him. I thought he could be a potential threat, and said so. Carlo assured me that they had already parted company.’