The Manuscript I the Secret (22 page)

As soon as I had the chest in my possession, I knew I could never hand it over. I was sure that my father, Claudio Contini-Massera, would not have wanted me to. Once more I opened the little piece of paper where Psalm 40 was written:

...
Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire:

(for mine ears hast thou prepared)

burnt offering and sin offering hast thou not required.

Then said I, Lo, I come:

for in the roll of the book

it is written of me.

I desired to do thy good will, O my God:

yea, thy Law is within mine heart.

Now it was all clear to me. Do the right thing. That was all. None of the rest of it mattered. It was staring me in the face the whole time but my ambition had blinded me. I called Merreck and told him there would be no deal. I got ready to leave Villa Contini. Why wait a whole year? I would start acting like the man my father would have wanted to see. If I had to start from the bottom, that is what I would do. I was grieved for all the people who worked at the Business and who would now be unemployed with no way to pay the rent. I went to talk with Caperotti.

“
Buongiorno
,
signore
Caperotti.”

“
Buongiorno
,
cavaliere
Contini-Massera.”

“Thank you for your assistance.”

“I was only doing my duty,
cavaliere
.” His cavernous voice no longer filled me with fear. Something had changed between us.

I did not beat around the bush.

“I’m not going to make the deadline.”

“Do you need more time?”

“Time is not the problem. If I wanted to, I could save the Business right this minute, but it would mean going against my principles. If I have to live off the little I can earn, that’s what I’ll do. I’m moving out of Villa Contini today. There’s no point in waiting an entire year.”

“And do you have a job?”
“No, but I’ll find one.”

“There is no need to go looking,
cavaliere
. This is your job.”

I studied his face carefully but could detect no jest. He looked straight at me while reaching for his pipe and making to light it.

“Your uncle left instructions that I have followed to the letter,
cavaliere
. The Business is thriving, as always. He talked about nearly everything with me and, from what I gather, neglected to mention that he was involved wit
h
Merreck & Stallen Pharmaceutical Group. It came as a surprise when my men told me you were in...Roseville, if I’m not mistaken?”

“I thought my uncle kept nothing secret from you.”

“
Cavaliere
, no man in his right mind shows all his cards. That is the first lesson you must learn. Don Claudio was one of the few people of my acquaintance who actually knew how to keep a secret. I knew he had something important up his sleeve, and for a time he was obsessed with it, but in the last few months we had plenty of time to talk. And one of the things he told me was, ‘If Dante gets this right, he’s a chip off the old block.’”

“And what might ‘getting it right’ be?” I asked.

“Coming here and facing the ordeal of the Business’ bankruptcy was the first big step. That’s what a real fighter would do. You didn’t say how you were going to do it, but you had a plan. You have no idea how like Claudio Contini-Massera you are.... And I’m sure you have a very important reason for not going ahead with it.”

Caperotti was studying me. Of that much I am sure. How much more did he know? I decided not to confide my secrets to him. I started putting the first lesson into practice right then and there.

“I have my reasons, and, in a way, I’m fulfilling my uncle’s posthumous wish.”

“I won’t ask what it was. But I can guess. You have behaved just like your uncle hoped you would. Let me tell you everything.”

And then I learned the whole story. Caperotti and my father had concocted the bankruptcy ploy to teach me a lesson, and I had come through unscathed. Today I can say that I have earned my position on my own merits, and my father was right: working can be fun. Nelson travels with me more as a friend than as a bodyguard, and my dear Quentin remains by my side, like the grandfather I never had. Age is of no concern to me, at least for the time being. And if Merreck were mistaken and, in fact, the longevity gene were already stabilized in my body, it would be a great joke played by Mengele from the grave. I cemented the chest in a thick block of concrete and sank it in the middle of the Tyrrhenian Sea. I hope it stays there for the more than thirty billion years it will take the mysterious artificial isotope to die, should planet Earth survive that long.

My mother seemed more affected by the disappearance of Francesco Martucci than she would have preferred to admit. Her face started to show the signs of suffering, and there is no grief like one that cannot be shared. Wherever he might be, I hope he repents of having believed so firmly that she was incapable of loving.

My good friend Nicholas now enjoys a comfortable situation thanks to the manuscript which was finally published, which is the story you are reading now. However, he told me he had to change several details about the ending that did not seem quite right to him. I suppose he knows what he is talking about; he is the writer, after all. The Business has its tentacles in all sorts of industries, including publishing. I hope Nicholas’ novel soon becomes a best seller. I owe him that favor and will gladly lend a hand, though he does not actually need much help.

I am starting to live like my father would have wanted. I address each of the servants at Villa Contini by name, and they like to wait for me at the front door as they did for my father, Uncle Claudio. And I am finally getting used to the fact that the members of the Business’ board of directors take their leave by kissing the back of my hand. Caperotti insists on keeping up these deeply-rooted Italian customs.

I am relieved to know that Merreck would not dare harm me. Caperotti has made sure of that. He says I am indispensable for the survival of
Cosa Nostra
, which we all call “the Business.” I have learned that the real power lies in the trustworthy people surrounding me, in those dedicated to finding out what is really going on and what will be happening in the world. That is why I have a research and statistics department at my disposal. Fortunately, my ordeal was just one simple brush with fate within the complicated turning of the world. Every now and then extraordinary things really do happen.

I like Caperotti. A quiet man, he always seems to know everything. He was my father’s constant and faithful ally.

“I hope I’m as wise as you some day,” I said to him recently.

“You will be, and more,” he answered with that deep, rasping voice. “You’ve got a lot of time ahead of you.
A lot.
”

And if you have reached the end and none of the pages have been erased, it means you have been lucky. Who can say if this story will still exist next time you open the book.

Dante Contini-Massera

Just over a year after those two weeks of upheaval, Nicholas Blohm was taking a well-deserved week of vacation. He recalled his dear friend Dante and a wave of ineffable emotion swept over him, a mix of affection and admiration. He thought he had done the right thing not to tell Dante about his mother, and even when the salacious events showed up in the novel; Dante seemed content with Nicholas’ explanation that they were merely a literary device.

“I throw things like that into the end of my novels all the time, just to keep readers interested,” Nicholas explained. Even Dante had to admit it was effective. After all, all the names had been changed, and no one could trace the book to him.

Nicholas was delighted with the turn his life had taken, the speaking engagements, the interviews, and so on. Sales had mysteriously shot up after a televised discussion about his book on a well-known program. He never got a chance to meet the stunningly beautiful woman who swore she knew the intimate details about the novel’s main family. There were all sorts of crazy people in this world! How could she be in the know if there were no one on earth by those names? Many wrote her off as a publicity stunt designed to drive up sales, and the fact was that the results were nothing but positive. Thanks to the sales, Nicholas was now enjoying a few days in the place he had always wanted to visit: Easter Island. Thousands of miles away from anywhere. Maybe there he could find enough spiritual peace to get inspired for his next novel.

He left the little inn to take a walk, the manuscript under his arm like a constant companion. Nicholas had come to think of it as both a friend and a good luck charm. He walked to the edge of town and watched the ocean waves caress the shore. The moai statues were too far away to catch sight of, but he was intent on going to see them later. For now, he preferred to make his way through Hanga Roa, the island’s only city. The pamphlet he had been given said that in the small cove beside the boats there were some remains of a moai altar.

The figure of a man seated on the low wall overlooking the peer seemed familiar to him, though Nicholas only saw him from behind. For a moment he was disappointed that even in such a remote location he might run into someone he knew. He turned around, intending to walk toward the other end of the island.

“Mr. Nicholas Blohm?” he heard from behind.

He turned slowly while his brain registered the sound of the voice. The little man was smiling at him.

Links:

Author Page on Amazon:
http://Author.to/BlancaMiosi 

http://blancamiosi.com

Many thanks for reading!

If you liked this book, I invite you to read:

WALDEK, The Boy Who Defied The Nazis

The adventures of a boy scout who went on to fight against the Nazis...A story that will make you laugh and cry
http://relinks.me/B00I6M4YRE

The novel that was over a year and four consecutive months in the top 100 of Amazon in Spanish, is now available in English!