Darkness for the Bastards of Pizzofalcone (16 page)

There. In the other home. And that really
was
a home.

No thanks to her, to be clear, because she never gave a damn about having a home. But that was where he and Dodo lived together.

He goes to the balcony, leans out to smoke a cigarette and think. The city streams by far away, the river of cars along the waterfront visible but silent at that distance. A city that—with its incomprehensible chaos, its sudden madnesses, its incessant noise—has always been alien to him.

But it's also the only place he ever even had the illusion of happiness.

His little boy.

A million snapshots, holidays at the beach and in the mountains, first days of school, adoring eyes on him: I'm your giant, you're my little king.

He runs his hand over his eyes, fogged with grief and exhaustion. A useless giant. He couldn't stop someone from hurting his little king.

But I'll fix everything, my little one, he murmurs to the city that streams past indifferently. I'll fix everything, and we'll soon forget all about this. We'll be together forever, I'll never leave you again. Because we know it, you and I, that we need to stay together. The principle is a simple one: You're my son, and once you're free, you'll come live with me.

He looks out the window toward the apartment where she lives with her boyfriend, that asshole, that useless creature. And then he looks up, where the old son of a bitch is holed up. You see, old man, what useless creatures your daughter and her lover are? You see that they couldn't even keep someone from taking your grandson, my son, while you sat there helpless in your goddamned wheelchair? Impressive, aren't they?

He lights another cigarette, barely noticing the way his hands are trembling. He still can't imagine how he kept from throttling them both the night before, when he went to ask for an explanation of what had happened. He remembers her face, bathed in tears and grief, as she told him the nothing that she knew. He'd have said, You're crying now, you whore?, and he'd have said it gladly. What are you crying about, now that my son has been taken by strangers? And the boyfriend, that solemn dickhead, standing behind her like a butler, nodding his head. If he'd yelled, “Boo,” the sheep would have screamed and hidden behind the sofa. Coward.

But he'd promised the police that he wouldn't lose his cool, and he hadn't.

Those useless cops. They couldn't find their own noses in the fog.

Oh, how they'll laugh, he and Dodo, when they talk about him, about Manuel. The big old sheep, they call him, with that head of hair that looks like wool and his complete lack of courage. He's not like you, Papà, says Dodo. You're strong, like Batman. He couldn't even be Batman's nemesis, because even that takes courage.

I'm going to free you, Dodo, he says to the city. He says it aloud, and a startled pigeon takes to the air with a rustle of flapping wings, setting back down on another balcony thirty feet away. I'll free you soon, very soon. And when you're free we can go on vacation together, alone, someplace beautiful, the most beautiful place there is.

Because while it's true that right now I'm your useless giant, it's also true that I'll be your courageous giant again. You'll see.

His cell phone rings. And his heart leaps into his mouth.

Y
es, hello.”

“This is me. Did phone call.”

“I know. How's it going there?”

“He all right. Not eating much, not crying though.”

“And what's he doing?”

“Talking. Whispering, like prayer. I hearing him talking.”

“He's talking? But who is he talking to?”

“I think toy. He have toy, little action figure. I think he talking to that.”

“Ah, okay, well, leave him alone.”

“He bothering me a little, seem like praying. I banging fist, then he shut up.”

“No, I'm telling you: Leave him alone. He has to do something, doesn't he? Tell him he has to eat, though. He shouldn't lose weight, we don't want him to get sick. Remember, we can't do him any harm.”

“Yes, but I need to scaring him. If I not scaring him, he calling for help or running away.”

“Yes, of course. But do it without laying a hand on him. He can't be hurt, we can't leave marks. That's important.”

“You not be worrying. And now?”

“Now you know what to do, I wrote everything down for you very clearly. You need to wait until the time I told you and then make the other phone call. You still have the sheet of paper, right?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Check and make sure, please.”

“
I have paper, fuck! If I saying I have, I have!”

“Listen, listen very carefully: don't you ever dare speak to me like that again. Never again, have I made myself clear? Remember that you're nothing but a stupid animal, that you're no good to anyone, and that you've had a stroke of luck that you're never going to have again. Do you understand me, animal?”

“I . . . sorry, you right, I . . .”

“Yes, I'm right. I'm so right that, if I feel like it, I can have you thrown in jail, you and your whore. You have no evidence to tie me to this, and I can prove that you did it all on your own, the two of you, understood? I've got you in hand, not the other way around.”

“Sorry, you right, fuck, I making mistake. You not worry, I do like we agree.”

“There, that's better. Behave like the obedient animal that you are. You don't have much to do, but you can't make any mistakes. All right, go on.”

“I making another phone call, tonight. And I saying things written on paper. Today Lena go to boy, she talking to him, she telling him she afraid of me. Then tomorrow we talking, and after that, every six hours.”

“Very good. Very good, my well-trained animal.”

“I no like when you saying I animal. I no animal.”

“No, eh? All right then, I won't say it again. But don't make mistakes.”

“I not make mistakes. But you not forget: all the money promised, and plus two plane tickets to America.”

“Or by ship, if the plane seems too dangerous. That's our agreement.”

“Yes, or ship. But I like better plane, faster. Okay?”

“There, now you're even talking like an American. We'll see; in any case, yes, you'll get to leave, the two of you. It's also in my own best interest to get you out of here. You just make sure that everything goes off smoothly, and that nothing bad happens to him.”

“No, nothing bad happening to him. And when Lena going, she convincing him to eat. He fine, no rats in there, I having checked, no cold at night, I giving him blanket, too. Plus he have his action figure, no?
”

“Yes. At least he has his action figure. You let him play. He saw you, didn't he?”

“Yes, he saw. He afraid of me, I shouting, banging fist, making ugly, ugly face.”

“It must not have taken much effort.”

“You joking. But it not last much longer, eh? You promised.”

“No. It won't last much longer, if we don't make any mistakes.”

“We no making mistakes. But you remembering your promise.”

“I remember. And you remember that nothing bad must happen to him.”

“No, no one harming him.”

“Good. No one is to harm him
.”

R
omano and Aragona had called Dodo's father and asked him to join them at Eva's place. Now that the situation was, unfortunately, clear, they wanted to come to an agreement about what course of action to take in response to the various eventualities that might present themselves.

When they reached the apartment building, they found Alberto Cerchia waiting for them outside the downstairs door.

“Excuse me, I preferred to wait for you to arrive before going up. I'm not sure I'm ready to . . . I mean, I'd just rather we all go up together, if you don't mind. Is there any news?”

“You've spoken to the commissario, I believe,” Romano replied.

“Yes, he told me about the phone call. When can I hear the recording?”

Aragona brandished his cell phone: “I had them put it on here. But first let's go see the signora.”

Eva met them at the door. She seemed to be in even worse shape than she'd been that morning. She extended a lukewarm greeting to her ex-husband, then turned to the two policemen: “Please, come in.”

Sitting in the living room in an armchair was Manuel. Alberto reacted with a surge of annoyance: “Does he really need to be here? If you ask me, this doesn't concern him.”

“This is my home,” Eva responded icily, “and I decide who stays and who goes. Let me remind you that Manuel spends much more time with Dodo than you do, so I think his presence is useful.”

Scarano broke in: “I don't want to be a source of tension, Eva. If you think it's best, I'm glad to wait in the other room. The insults I took from your father were enough for today.”

“I said that I wanted you here, Manuel. And that's that.”

The woman's peremptory tone put an end to the discussion.

Aragona started the recording; everyone listened in silence. Eva shook her head: “I don't remember any of this, it's as if that's someone else speaking to this criminal. Good God. I don't remember a thing.”

“That's normal, Signora,” Romano said. “You're very tired and you're experiencing extreme emotional tension. But I have to ask you, and I mean all of you, whether you think you might recognize this voice.”

Alberto and Manuel, practically in unison, shook their heads no. Eva said: “No, I'm sure I don't. Now that I hear it again, there seems to be a foreign accent.”

“Yes, we had the same impression, Signora. And clearly we're pursuing that lead. What we're most interested in, in this phase . . .”

Alberto leapt to his feet, his face twisted in anger: “In this phase? What are you saying, that in a situation like this one there are phases? What the fuck are you talking about? This is my son who's been kidnapped, do you understand that? My son!”

Romano and Aragona were both surprised by Cerchia's reaction.

“I certainly didn't mean to give the impression that we're taking this lightly, Dottore. We're trying to gather every possible piece of evidence we can to . . .”

“And we're the ones who are supposed to provide you with that evidence? Haven't you seen the state the boy's mother is in? We're here, our son has been missing for almost two days, and you're talking to us about evidence? Do you have any idea how to do your fucking job?”

Aragona had noticed his partner do something that worried him: Romano had unclenched and clenched his fist. Then he saw him slip his right hand into his trouser pocket and wait a moment before answering: “Dottore, I understand that you're in a state. But believe me, we know how to do our job and we're following procedure.”

Cerchia's eyes, wide open and ringed in red, his mouth, twisted in a sardonic grimace, and his horrified expression, all spoke volumes about his state of mind.

“Ah, procedure. As if I were applying for a passport. As if this were just some fucking bureaucratic detail, a form to fill out. You know what you can do with your procedure, officer? You can stuff it up . . .”

Aragona saw the muscles in Romano's arm flexing. He leapt forward, placing himself between his partner and Dodo's father.

“Can you quit being such a pain in the ass? We're here to end your son's suffering and also end your own, and you start shouting like an idiot. If you like, we can leave and let you take care of things all by yourself, and then we'll see how you do. Enough is enough, fuck.”

The tanned little policeman's reaction caught everyone off guard. Cerchia opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, as if gasping for air. Aragona, seeing his partner's face relax, heaved a sigh of relief. Romano inhaled, exhaled, and said: “All right, now let's all calm down a little, please. We're only playing into the kidnappers' hands. We need to keep our minds clear. My partner Aragona and I are working on this case nonstop with the support of all the officers in the precinct as well as the magistrate in charge. You can be sure of that. I should let you know that all your phone lines have been tapped, and in the next few hours, as required by law, your bank accounts are going to be frozen.”

Cerchia stammered: “But . . . but how can you do that? I need my bank accounts for work. I have suppliers to pay, salaries . . .”

Aragona blew out his cheeks in exasperation: “As you yourself pointed out earlier, Dottore, the situation is serious. And if it's serious, it needs to be faced head-on. That means that your suppliers will have to wait for a few days. For truly urgent transactions you can always contact the magistrate, Dottoressa Piras; she has the power to authorize specific payments. Debit and credit cards will still work, so your day-to-day needs should be taken care of.”

In a broken voice, Eva asked: “Do you think that before long we're going to receive a demand for . . . that they're going to want money to free Dodo? And what happens, if we don't pay? Because if our accounts are frozen . . .”

Manuel spoke to her in a gentle voice: “Don't worry, sweetheart. Dodo will come back home, and soon. I promise.”

“You promise?” Cerchia replied venomously. “And exactly what do you promise, since you don't have a penny to your name and you've been sponging off this family for years? Or maybe you think you're going to rescue Dodo yourself, with your brains and your brawn?”