SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - U.S. Edition (21 page)

Then something wonderful happened. As if blinds, which had been closed for centuries, had just pushed open and finally offered a clear sight on the bright day, I suddenly realized that I was neither in hell nor in an art gallery. I was standing in the insight of an ear, in fact in one of these brands, which are at my kind’s disposal. In my dream, I had shrunken to the size of a flea and had taken a walk through a felidae-ear. The route, that I had taken, was the auditory canal, and the membrane was the eardrum. The snail with its ossicles and the resonator actually looks like a snail in real life and is called cochlea. And the crown was the balance system and vestibular organ ...

I slowed down instinctively. Why hadn’t I noticed this earlier? I, Francis, who knew our kind’s anatomy so well that I could have easily habilitated in it. The inner ear wasn’t just responsible for the hearing. In humans as well as in animals it hosts the most precious sense of all, namely the sense of balance. Just that the sense of balance of the felidae is in the same proportion to that of humans as a Formula One car to a Trabant. In other words: If a human had a vestibular organ like us, he could perform far more reckless maneuvers than a trapeze artist ...

I wanted to go further into this question, when I slowed down another time. The reason was a barely hearable lapping behind my back, which made my fur stay on end. Although it was an ordinary noise, it sounded inexpressibly ugly, yes almost filthy. I turned
around and choked in horror.

Like in my last dream, the leading role was again played by Antonio’s coldhearted master. He wore a pastel-colored disco suit from the Seventies with wide lapel and flared pants, and he was sitting in the pope’s wheelchair. The partially unbuttoned shirt again exposed his hairy chest with a dangling silver-cross. Through the big dark sunglasses he smiled at me maliciously. This time, the flawlessly tanned, a thick cigar sucking macho didn’t really come into question as an affable guest in a retro show. Because dark bullet holes gaped at the right sleeve of his jacket and at the left pant leg, from which real streams of blood had poured across the pretty suit. Maybe for once he had been too cheeky in his macho world and had gotten his comeuppance. Nevertheless, he kept his composure and acted as if nothing had happened. If anything, he was still in the mood for macabre actions. The old baptismal font from the chapel was directly in front of him, and the silver bowl was filled with almost black blood. The Roman dipped his free hand, including the Rolex and the golden cufflinks, into the dark soup and stirred. His fingers carried out a naughty lapping, and now and then blo
od drops dripped off the tips.

»The evil has many faces, Francis«, he repeated my own words from the afternoon. In this strange chamber they resonated as if we were in a dripstone cave. »And it has the power to change its appearance. It can invade even the best soul and exploit it for its noxious purposes.«

Although the dream machine had borrowed shreds of recent experiences, the wounded guy reminded me of another. Why did the macho have the gunshot wounds of the hooded guy, whose wounds mus
t be in exactly the same spots?

»In order to conquer the evil, the balance of the world must be restored, Francis«, the wounded went on. »Unfortunately, the world’s balance is connected to the balance in your heads like the coating of water-repellent plant leaves is connected to modern car paint.«

»I know it’s about the hearing aid«, I said and congratulated myself to finding the key to a case
in a dream for the first time.

Across the blood-covered man’s dark sunglasses flew starlike light reflexions. His smile broadened, and he quietly whistled
out of the corner of his mouth.

»Smart little guy!« he approved. »One should always know what’s up and what’s down, what’s wrong and what’s right. In short: You give us your unique balance, and we the miracle to balance out the world again.«

»You will fail«, I said. »Something, someone, me, the decent humans, maybe even the Almighty himself will wipe you and your sinful deeds from the face of the earth! And the only miracle that you will experience will be your hot performance in hell!«

The smile abruptly disappeared from the tanned face, and the whole coldness of this man, who was hidden only by ridiculous accessories, turned up unconcealed. He grimaced as if he found my words disgusting, his
lips turned into a small line.

»Got it, you also are only a friend of this noncommittal peace, the peace of soapbox oratory and phony televised debates. It’s always the same. Barely one is willing to make sacrifices for the good cause. The good ones though, the heroes, the true Christians will bring definite peace to this world like a miracle. Look here!«

He sent the cigar flying through the air and reached into the blood soup with both hands, causing the fluid to move. Heavy waves, which made the blood slop over the edges of the baptismal font, took turned with fountains, which dashed up into the air, and the loud bubbling of blebs. It looked like the dream-butcher tried to catch a big fish, which flailed around in panic. Eventually, he fished a little truss out of the blood and presented it to me with an angry face. Although it was totally soaked in blood, I instantly realized what it was. The bloody thing, that started to stretch itself cozily as if it awoke from a blissful nap, was a fellow. I knew this fellow very well. After the Oriental Shorthair had finished the stretching exercise in his master’s hands, he turned his head to me
and opened his turquoise eyes.

»Samantha is dead!« Antonio said.

I also opened my eyes and faced Antonio’s wedge-shaped head that was bend over me.

»Francis, Samantha is dead!« he said.

His front paws still pressed against my flank. Obviously, it had taken him a lot of juggling to arouse me from my deep sleep. Without having done the usual stretching, I jumped up and on all fo
ur paws. I was instantly awake.

By now almost all of the candles had burned down. So I must have been in the arms of Morpheus for quite a while, which by the way agreed with me very well – aside from the nasty dream. In the concentrated twilight the chapel had appeared cozy, now in the light of only a few candles it reminded of a creepshow. The altar and the cross upon it resembled a morbid scenery, left alone the baptismal font, which was still filled with the miraculous blood. Real spooky though, if not to say excruciating, h
ad been Antonio’s wake-up call.

»This is simply not possible,
il mio amico
«, I disagreed. »This monster should barely have any interest in doing her a mischief.«

»Why not?«

In this somber light the pitch black-furred, brawny stripling almost seemed to be invisible. Only the green eyes beamed with the brightness of burning magnesium and pierced the darkness. Now that he had stepped back into my life, I felt more intense than ever before how much I had missed him the whole time. He was more than a loyal companion, in his elegant way he reminded me of the former, the younger Francis. I faced my younger self. The otherness of his sexuality resembled a mirroring effect in this case. One can see himself mirror-inverted, but is still the same person. God enjoys some diversion within his zoo. To hell with prejudices: I w
anted to kiss him here and now!

»Beca
use they’re in cahoots together
«, I went on. »Although I must admit that I don’t have a clue how such a relationship of evil between a human and an animal might come about. I mean we are not dogs who can be trained. Anyway, your fine lady has led me astray purposely. Did you know that there exists a secret society of so-called theosophists in this city?«

Infrequently at first, then in quick succession we heard the dashing of firs
t raindrops on the chapel roof.

»Not only that. By now I’m able to mechanically recite the events, which you went through, in chronological order and almost dead on time. Maybe I will submit a screenplay of this whole thing at Cinecittà. Believe me, by now you’re even more famous in Rome than Berlusconi, Francis! The bums from Largo Argentina, with Giovanni leading the way, this strange Sancta, these priest imitators here and last but not least this ridiculous wanna-be-pope Miracolo have spread he news of your heroic deeds around town in no time at all. You’re even said to have performed a miracle. Everyone talks about you in deep respect. They call you
detective di artiglio
, detective with claws.«

The rain won on strength, and what had began as dripping, had turned in
to a steady rushing in no time.

»Wonderful«, I said. »As soon as my job is done, I will deliver myself up to the press and have autograph cards printed. To get back to Samantha: She made me believe that the theosophists are behind the murders. These brothers are creepy for sure, and what’s more extremely bizarre. In my opinion this theosophical society is a harmless grandpa-club, whose members prepare themselves for the afterworld with much hocus-pocus and bad singing. This doesn’t apply for their chief priest though. He seems to be heavily involved in the murders, if he isn’t the beast himself! His motive isn’t clear to me yet, but it is only a matter of hours before I see through his game. I actually have a theory on what this ear-cutting is about. Samantha wanted to take me for a ride, when she put the idea in my mind that there would be our kind sacrificed at those ceremonies. She reckoned I would take to my heels at the sight of this scary hassle before anything would even have happened. So I would have declared the case as being solved, and the
detective di artiglio
had embarrassed himself pretty much. Because everyone knew that the weekly theosophists’ circus in truth is the best source of food in town. The great detective would quickly have turned into a clown. But things turned out differently as you know now.«

»Samantha is still dead«, Antonio said and nervously drummed his thin, long tail on the pew. »How did she die? And where is her body now?«

The black Oriental made a face as if he had to explain to a coo-
coo which letter comes after A.

»What do you think how she died? Her ear was cut off. She bled to death. She lies in Prince Savoyen’s cellar, and I can tell you, it’s not a pretty sight.«

»Damn it, now I do feel bad for her! Something doesn’t make sense. I just had a crazy dream, which seemed to reveal the motive for the murders. You were also in it by the way. Do you know about bionics, Antonio?«

»Now you’re asking me one ...«

»It is an artificial word and consists of a combination of the words biology and technology. This research area deals with the transmission of ›nature’s inventions‹, which have been developed and improved for millions of years, into technology. The humans try to wangle its secrets out of nature and use them for revolutionary new products and technologies. But now and then it didn’t adhere to learning by watching. In certain fields we animals totally outperform the beautiful new technologies – and we’re not copyable. It would safe a lot of expensive research if one just installed the eligible organ of the animal on the sluggish technology.«

»You mean, the killer removes our ears to convert them into highly sensitive directional microphone or something like that? Don’t get mad at me, but I thought of that myself.«

His glorious image of the
detective di artiglio
seemed to crack.

»I know that, my friend. But the thing with the uber-ear would just have been too simple. No, it is about what’s inside the ear, or else inside the inner ear. The answer to our problem is the vestibular organ, which is located upon the cochlea and keeps our sense of balance happy. It is some kind of measuring instrument, which collects data on space and acceleration. The sensor works – in extremely simplified terms – according to a water level’s principle. It consists of several water-filled chambers, the inside walls settled with sensory cilia. At the change of positions the fluid begins to move and stimulates the cilia, which instantly report to the brain. Similarly, it works with humans. But in us, this thing has been intensively propagated. We are able to saunter on a garden fence with such somnambulistic grace as if there was no gravity, we are able to perform such acrobatic stunts as if we had the rare gift of flying, and we can ease us through expensive china so elegantly as if it was pure magic. According to observations of Giovanni and a female fellow called Blixa, the killer prefers young victims with a marvelous sense of balance, even among our kind. The connection needs no comment.«

»Nice theory«, Antonio said and ruffled his whiskers. At that
he seemed to be pretty upstage.
I could read in his face that he believed my story to be wacky. But maybe there was a shriveled, envious chappy stirring inside him, because I had come up with the idea first. His thin face with the giant ears looked the most attractive wi
th this put on skeptical pose.

»Somehow sounds like Dr. Frankenstein. But let’s assume the vestibular organ really is the object of desire. And let’s also assume that this really is the hooded guy’s miracle – Giovanni has told me about his – then the most important questions still remain unsolved: How is a human able to make use of it? What’s the use of a tenfold, for all I care even hundredfold more efficient sense of balance? And: Into which stupid device does he install something like that anyway?«

Now it was my turn to play the upstage, not to say the offended one, as my epochal thoughts were questioned, yes, secretly smiled at. And to be honest: I didn’t have a clue what I should reply to him. This really sounded like Dr. Frankenstein somehow.