‘Indeed?’ said Blume. Most of his energy was going into keeping the camper van on the road.
‘Yes, because people with serious problems in their relationships, if they are intelligent, travel away from their home and stay away. When they are abroad, they always have a pretext for acting alienated and their incapacity to relate to normal society becomes part of their foreignness. People will often justify their strange and sometimes unpleasant behaviour on the grounds of cultural differences and homesickness,’ said Konrad. ‘America was built by people like these. Also, if I might add, they were not very efficient people. These “pioneers” had an entire continent at their disposal as well as slave labour, yet their empire has lasted less time than the Macedonian kingdom. And as for comparing it with the Roman or Greek empires.. ’
‘You’re just in a bad mood because you haven’t eaten,’ said Blume.
‘I am not in a bad mood. But you are not a relaxing driver.’
‘You shouldn’t have drunk so much wine on an empty stomach, then you could be at the wheel.’
‘You are right. You will take me to Lake Avernus before we go on to Positano.’
‘Was that a question or an order?’ said Blume.
Konrad bent his head down so he could look out the window at the scenery around him. From the doleful head-shaking that followed, Blume knew what turn the conversation was about to take.
After several minutes Konrad said, ‘This country is filthy. So far every verge has been filled with rubbish and every road is full of potholes. Everything is falling down.’
Blume nodded, pleased at having guessed right. ‘I thought you might be about to say that, because you’ve already said that.’
‘But it is a disgrace,’ said Konrad. ‘Is this not a sign of inferiority? Be honest.’ But instead of giving Blume a chance to be honest, he added, ‘I do not think Italians will ever defeat organized crime. I think your theory about small units is quite plausible, but I don’t think it fully explains the Italian tendency to illegal behaviour. Of course, I do not think the Italians are racially inclined to violence and theft… and bad driving. I am hardly,’ he laughed at the absurdity of the idea, ‘a racist.’
‘The thought never even crossed my mind,’ said Blume.
‘… I think perhaps they have a virus.’
‘If you’re talking about the Mafia, remember that viruses spread, and Germany has been infected for some time.’
‘You must understand that I am not using a metaphor. I am referring to a real virus, a biological virus. Are you all right, Commissioner? You seem to be sucking.’
‘Sucking?’
‘ Mist. That is not the right word. You have tremors in your face and you are pressing your eyes closed.’
‘I suffer from headaches,’ said Blume.
‘You should try transcranial magnetic stimulation,’ said Konrad. ‘It also gets rid of depression and reveals your hidden artistic abilities. Unfortunately, the effects are not permanent.’
‘I’ll tell my terrific doctor. What’s this virus you’re talking about?’
‘It is called Toxoplasma gondii. It is a virus like the one that causes malaria, and it is common throughout the world, but I believe it is particularly common in Italy. This virus enters the bloodstream, then invades the brains of its victims, in this case Italians, and causes neurosis. This is not to say all Italians have Toxoplasma gondii, but perhaps more have it here than in other countries. It causes poor driving and an inclination to risk taking and rule breaking.’
‘Where does your mysterious virus come from, Konrad?’
‘Ultimately, all viruses come from outer space.’
‘Same quadrant as you?’ asked Blume.
‘This virus,’ continued Konrad, ‘resides in cats and rats and other mammals. A rat with the virus altering its brain might be unnaturally attracted to cats — this is the risk taking at work, you understand. So the rat goes to the cat and says chase me…’
‘So it’s a talking rat?’
‘Obviously the rat does not speak,’ said Konrad. ‘You are not taking this seriously. You are a superficial man.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Blume. ‘The rat, without speaking, informs the cat — in writing perhaps? — that it wants to be chased.’
‘It makes this clear by virtue of the fact it approaches the cat. An animal that deliberately approaches its predator and seeks death is an unnatural thing.’
‘So the cat kills the rat,’ said Blume.
‘Absolutely!’ said Konrad, pleased that Blume had followed him this far in his reasoning. ‘The rat gets caught and dies, but the virus goes into the cat and from there it gets passed to humans. But it is also passed from the eating of raw meat. I am thinking of the raw pig that makes prosciutto, the raw beef in bresaola and Florentine steaks, raw milk used for cheeses, salami and lamb, but also contact with the soil.’
‘This is science fact?’
‘Unfortunately, Italy does not regularly screen its pregnant women for the virus, but all the contributing factors and symptoms are plain to see, so it is a reasonable scientific hypothesis.’
‘So maybe we should be concentrating on rounding up the cats, and after a few generations our women will stop giving birth to baby Mafiosi.’
‘You know I can tell when you are mocking me,’ said Konrad.
Ten minutes later they arrived at the lake.
‘I forget,’ said Blume. ‘Why are we here?’
‘You said you studied Latin in school,’ said Konrad. ‘You must have read Virgil?’
‘We had to.’
‘Ah.’ Konrad fell silent and consulted the SatNav and then surveyed the landscape, a frown on his face.
Blume cut the engine and climbed out of the camper van. It was good to stretch his legs. The two of them were the only people in sight. They walked down to the low wall bordering the lake. Blume jumped up onto the ledge and walked along it, looking down at Konrad’s bald patch. ‘This is Lake Avernus. I can see you’re disappointed. Is it the smell? That’s sulphur. It’s supposed to be good for you.’
Konrad followed Blume along the wall, then called out after him. ‘It’s not the smell. It’s the cement buildings all around. Also I thought Lake Avernus would be bigger.’
‘It’s just a large pool on the top of an exploded volcanic crater,’ said Blume.
Reluctantly, Konrad caught up with Blume. ‘But for such an important place…’
‘What’s important about it?’ asked Blume, leaping off the wall. The walk was doing him good.
‘In mythology, this is the Gate to Hades, the entrance to the Underworld. I thought you said you had to read Virgil in school.’
‘Doesn’t mean I have to believe him. Mythology again. You’re really into this stuff,’ said Blume. ‘Konrad, it’s just a lake. Virgil made all that shit up to please the new emperor. He probably didn’t even bother coming here to look at it.’
‘But there are real ruins of the Cumae sibyl over there. Those are real.’
‘Real in that there are Roman ruins there, yes. We don’t have time for a visit.’
‘Shh! I need to control something,’ said Konrad.
‘Check something, you mean, unless you’re talking about a Teutonic urge to take over a country, in which case…’
‘Please. You must be silent.’
Konrad appeared to be scanning the sky and listening hard, like a gunner waiting for an air attack. Eventually, he began to smile. ‘There. What do you hear?’
By way of reply, Blume popped another aspirin.
‘Can’t you hear the silence?’ said Konrad, his eyes still skyward.
‘I can hear a television,’ said Blume. ‘A motorbike, a girl having an argument, someone hammering metal on the other side of the lake, a dog barking, now I hear a car… and a passenger jet coming into Capodichino airport. Tell me when to stop.’
‘No, no, I meant the silence. Listen to the silence!’
‘Behind all the noise, there’s always silence,’ said Blume.
‘I meant the absence of birds. Virgil wrote that no birds fly over this lake, because it is the entrance to the Underworld. And look, just as Virgil said, there are no birds! Avernus, you see, comes from the Greek a-ornithos, which means without birds.’