Zen paid for his coffee, walked around to the bakery that he and Gemma favoured and ordered an assortment of goodies which they boxed up for him. No wonder there had been nothing in the other papers or on the radio or TV. La Repubblica had understandably wanted to keep this exclusive scoop secret until its own edition hit the streets. But by lunchtime it would be one of the top news stories in the country.
When Zen delivered the faked statement to Luca Brandelli, he had assured the journalist that Guerrazzi’s signature was genuine and that the text represented a fair summary of his views, all of which was substantially true. He had however declined to say anything about how he had obtained the document, implying that the interests involved were so powerful and the situation so dangerous that such knowledge would compromise both of them. This too was substantially true. Given Brandelli’s reputation as a fearless investigative journalist whose livelihood depended on protecting his sources, there seemed every reason to suppose that he would do so in this case. As for Gabriele Passarini, Zen felt reasonably sure that his discretion and common sense could be counted on.
There had been little talk between the two men during the drive from Brescia back to Milan, but as they neared their destination Passarini had finally broken the silence.
‘There’s something Leonardo said once that I’ve never understood.’
Zen knew that his companion wanted to be prompted, but he was too exhausted to bother. In the end they drove on for another two kilometres before Passarini continued of his own volition.
‘When we were told about Operation Medusa…’
Another breakdown, another kilometre.
‘I asked Leonardo why they had given it that name. He said that Colonel Comai had told him that it was based on the bronze statue by Cellini in Florence, a flattering justification of the autocratic rule of the Medici family, Cellini’s patrons. The snakes that were Medusa’s hair symbolized the squabbling factions of Guelphs and Ghibellines which had brought Florentine democracy to its knees, but had now been eradicated by the Medicis’ tyranny, symbolized in turn by Perseus’s single sharp sword blow severing the Gorgon’s head. I could see the parallel with the situation here in Italy in the seventies, but then…’
More silence, this time for two kilometres.
‘Then Leonardo said something very strange, something I’ve never forgotten but never understood. He said, “Every woman is Medusa. When you look into her eyes, you see the entire history of the human race. That’s enough to turn anyone to stone.”’
Halfway back to the house, Zen’s telefonino shrilled. It was probably Gemma, he thought, wondering aloud in her charm¬ ingly stroppy way how much longer she would have to wait for her breakfast. But he was wrong.
‘This is Brugnoli. You’ve seen La Repubblica?’
‘I glanced at it.’
And then the question Zen had been dreading.
‘Did you by any chance have anything to do with this?’
‘Well, to an extent. The wheels were already turning, but I gave them the odd push here and there. Let’s say that I acted as a “facilitator”. Like you, Dottor Brugnoli, if you’ll forgive the comparison.’
To Zen’s surprise and relief, his superior laughed quietly.
‘On the contrary! If there’s any comparison to be drawn, it’s I who should feel flattered by it. For obvious reasons, I’m not going to ask what you did or how you did it, Zen, but let me assure you that the powers that be here at the Ministry are well pleased with the outcome. Our neighbours up the street are going to be covered in shit of the deepest hue for the foreseeable future, and no matter what specious excuses, denials and cover stories they come up with, a lot of it is going to stick. In short, you’re a star. Take the rest of the month off, keep your head down and needless to say don’t breathe a word about this to anyone. Speaking of which, in response to your request, some of our technical people called in to do an electronic sweep of the apartment that you share with Signora Santini. She was away at the time and is unaware of the intrusion. The whole place had been bugged up one side and down the other. Anyway, that’s all taken care of now and you can resume your normal life until further notice. And once again, congratulations.’
Zen walked back along the deserted street. From a government building opposite the national flag was flying at half- mast in honour of a politician of former notoriety who had died the day before. Zen regarded it with an irony not unmixed with pride. I too have done my duty, he thought.
Gemma was prowling around the kitchen in a silk dressing- gown which Zen had bought her shortly after moving in.
‘God, that took long enough!’ she said with mild exasperation, opening the box of pastries. ‘Never mind. The milk’s still warm and I’ll make another pot of coffee. Oh, I forgot to tell you, that friend of yours came round.’
‘What friend?’
‘Some Sardinian name.’
‘Gilberto Nieddu?’
‘That’s him. He sent me an email saying that he was going to be in the area and could he drop by. I told him you were away, but he said he wanted to see me. It turns out that he’s importing generic copies of patented medicines manufactured illegally in India and the Far East, repackaging them here to resemble the original and then offering them to pharmacists at a large discount to pass off as the full-price brand- name product.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘No, basically. It was a bit awkward, what with him being your friend and all. But I’m doing all right as it is, and I just want to feel decent, you know?’
‘I certainly do.’
‘Anyway, tell me all about this case you’ve been working on up north. I didn’t ask last night. You were just too tired.’
Zen grimaced.
‘There’s really nothing much to say. Just a nasty little domestic drama of no significance. The wife had an affair, the husband found out and killed the lover, then the wife found out about that and killed the husband.’
‘How sordid.’
‘Exactly. But who cares? It’s got nothing to do with us.’
He kissed her on the lips.
‘I love you madly.’
‘ Carissimo! And I love you sanely. A winning combination, don’t you think?’
Zen kissed her again as the coffee started to gurgle up into the pot. He smiled for what felt like the first time in days.
‘It could be worse,’ he said. ‘It could be a lot worse.’