‘And why strike now? Because the government and our enemies think they can get away with it, that we’re beaten, that we’re no longer capable of organising a broad enough protest movement to force them to back down. In the way the movement did between 1969 and 1972 over the Piazza Fontana massacre and Pinelli’s assassination, when it succeeded in implicating the far right and forcing the judges to release the anarchists. If they’re right, we’re screwed. But Italian society won’t be any better off as a result. The ruling class doesn’t know it because they’re barbarians, yet a country that represses its history rots from within.’
A silence, then Lisa continues: ‘For my part, I’ve carried on working. I’m seeing Filippo Zuliani tomorrow to keep him informed, and we’ll see what he has to say about my findings. Then I’ll come and see you.’
Chiara, who has just come back into the room, shouts, ‘Give us a break from that guy and the hold-up. An author of airport novels isn’t in the same league as a man like Sofri.’
‘Those who are in the same league, as you put it, are Carlo and Sofri. Even if you don’t like the fact that it puts Sofri on a par with people he’s never approved of and vice versa, I’ve been convinced for a while now that, like it or not it makes no difference, we are all in the same boat. And with these arrests, you and your mates will eventually realise it. Zuliani is a hiccup. An airport novel maybe, but the secret service was still riled enough to get on his case…’
She stops, hears the voice of Pier-Luigi, tinged with irony, ‘What do you imagine? That everything said in those meetings remains confidential?’ and tails off mid-sentence, too late perhaps. Giovanni, who has come back into the room on Chiara’s heels, leaps to his feet.
‘What are you talking about? Do you have information that you’re keeping from us?’
‘No, nothing special, we’ll see later. Let’s get back to Sofri and his two friends.’
She turns to the lawyer who sits saying nothing.
‘The question remains: what can we do?’
After the meeting, Lisa goes off to find Cristina who has been whiling away the time dozing in a cinema, and they return to Neuilly together. In the lift, Cristina rummages in her bag for ages looking for her keys. Lisa senses her agitation.
‘At this hour, Filippo isn’t here. You’re not likely to bump into him.’
‘I know.’
Cristina carries on rummaging, tips the contents of her bag on to the landing scattering things everywhere, but still no keys.
‘I’m sorry, Lisa, I’m at the end of my tether. I can’t help wondering what I’m going to find when I open my door. When I spoke to Filippo on the telephone earlier, I had the feeling someone was listening in, that there was someone else on the line. It sounded like breathing. I know it makes no sense. I’m hoping things will be better tomorrow. In any case, thanks for your support.’
Lisa picks up the bunch of keys from under a packet of tissues, and holds it out to Cristina. They go through the front door and then the inner door. Cristina switches on the light and glances around anxiously. Everything seems in order. She looks down. On the floor at her feet, a brown manila envelope, immediately recognisable as identical to the one containing the manuscript of Escape which Filippo had deposited. Cristina is certain it wasn’t there yesterday evening; he must have slipped it under the door. The envelope is as tempting as sin, and gives her a thrill. Whatever happens, Lisa mustn’t notice anything. She bends down, picks it up casually and slips it into the outside pocket of her suitcase, then tells Lisa: ‘Everything seems to be as it should, in the state I left it last night. Come, I’ll show you the bathroom and give you towels and a pair of pyjamas. We’re going to sleep in the same bed, if you don’t mind. It’s at least two metres wide so it should be big enough for two small women like us.’
When Lisa has finished in the bathroom, Cristina locks herself in with her suitcase. She sits down at her dressing table, retrieves the envelope and opens it. Twenty or so manuscript pages, covered in the fine, cramped handwriting she knows well. A hot flush. She skims the first few pages. Mitsouko, the chignon, the wooden hair slides, the dark floor, the glass-and-steel furniture, the white duvet … she chokes, puts the pages down on the table, slips them under her make-up bag, closes her eyes and lets a few seconds go by. She is mystified. Who is this youth who has the cheek to force her to acknowledge that he broke into her apartment and that he wants to pretty much rape her? Reaction number one: kick him out of the studio flat and out of her life immediately. It’s the only sensible thing to do. She opens her eyes and looks at herself in the mirror, then meticulously begins to remove her make-up. She examines the lines at the corners of her mouth, the dark rings under her eyes and runs her hand over the skin of her neck, a merciless giveaway of a woman’s age. Reaction number two: rape, let’s not exaggerate, all very symbolic and literary. Admission: she may find this constant presence on the other side of the wall threatening, but it also excites her, a game of seduction and power. How can I not admit that I enjoy it? And I like being the woman described in this piece? What if this is a chance to experience love once again? Who am I to refuse it? Make-up removed, the confusion remains. She has the feeling she has lost her bearings. See what happens when she meets him tomorrow.
29 July, Paris
Another crisis meeting at the publisher’s, just before the company closes for two weeks in August.
‘After yesterday morning’s arrests in Italy, it’s clear that the Italian government is launching a full-scale operation against the remnants of the far left. It is an operation that goes way beyond both the book and the person of Filippo Zuliani. This Sofri is not a dangerous lunatic. I believe, no, I’m certain I published something by him in an anthology of articles which was, if not academic, at least reputable. I’d understood that he could be considered as an Italian intellectual and that it was acceptable to associate with him. And the Italian intellectuals with whom we regularly work also considered him as such. I am completely baffled by these arrests. You have to admit that Italian politics are turbulent, often extremely violent, and pretty much unfathomable to an outsider, but that’s not the problem.’ He turns to Adèle. ‘As far as we’re concerned, we put a complete block on all media exposure for Escape. In any case, at the beginning of August, everything comes to a standstill. Come September, we’ll see how the situation has developed in Italy.’
‘Understood. I should warn you we’ve received several phone calls from people wanting Filippo’s home address. Of course I’ve given strict instructions that no such information should be given out. But with the continual stream of hate mail, it’s rather worrying.’
The publisher turns to the lawyer.
‘Given the new circumstances in which our Italian neighbours now find themselves, is an extradition request likely?’
‘It is on the cards. The arrest of Sofri, Pietrostefani and Bompressi is an operation on a different scale from Prosecutor Sebastiani’s attack on Zuliani. The book is merely a pretext. I smell trouble.’
‘Has our author already been granted asylum? If so, is it temporary or permanent? Does the government intend to renege on its decision?’
‘Before giving you a definite answer, I need to find out for certain.’
‘Do so, and do it fast. In any case, it would be prudent to remove all traces of our various efforts on behalf of Zuliani, including the lobbying. I’m leaving for the United States this evening. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know where you can get hold of me if necessary.’
Lisa and Cristina leave the offices of La Défense together and seat themselves at a table at the back of the Café Pouchkine to wait for Filippo, who has agreed to meet them at 7.30. The two women sit in silence. Lisa is wondering whether Cristina will be a reliable ally in this conversation, which is bound to be very confrontational, no doubt about that. She is aware of Cristina’s uncertainty, but doesn’t understand the reason. Must avoid finding herself out on a limb. Don’t introduce her into the game.