The Ancient Curse (11 page)

‘I’ve already taken care of it,’ replied the officer.

He put on his cap, slipped on his black gloves and left.

Fabrizio went into the basement to put the tooth back in its place. Sonia wasn’t there but she’d already started her work, concentrating on the skull, which she was assembling on a platform lit by a couple of halogen bulbs. With its hollow eye sockets and huge toothy jaw, it might have seemed a grotesque mask, if he didn’t know the context it had been found in. She had applied little dots of putty along the chalk lines that she’d drawn on the skull, both lengthwise from the nape of the neck to the tip of the snout and crosswise from temple to temple. Each piece of putty held a pin half a centimetre long. The pins had different-coloured heads, depending on the line, which he supposed identified muscles or other anatomical features. Around the earholes the pins were much longer and had yellow heads.

Fabrizio knelt and very cautiously inserted the fang into its socket, then returned to his office and got back to work. The days were becoming shorter now and the small cubicle was soon plunged into shadow. When he was forced to get up and switch on the overhead light, he realized that it was already seven thirty and that the museum was empty. He wondered where Francesca might be and felt like calling her, but then reasoned that if she hadn’t called him she hadn’t felt the need, so why should he?

He backed up his files and rose to leave, stopping on his way out to check on Sonia.

‘Would you like to get a bite to eat with me?’ he asked.

She declined his invitation. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m just too tired to go out. I’ll just have a glass of milk at the hotel and go to bed.’

‘Don’t forget to set the alarm before you go,’ Fabrizio reminded her.

He left the museum and headed towards Signora Pina’s place for some dinner.

There were still a few tourists out and about and when he turned into Piazza dei Priori he noticed quite a few people sitting outdoors at the two main cafes, having a drink before dinner. He deliberately walked between the tables so he could hear what people were talking about in the city besieged by a bloodthirsty monster and realized it was soccer. There was an early National League game that evening: Milan versus Fiorentina. Everyone was making predictions and placing bets. No one much liked the line-ups that had been announced and everyone had a smarter strategy to propose.

There was a little breeze coming from Via San Lino, carrying the scent of hay and mint all the way to the big grey-stoned square. A radio somewhere was playing an old classic, ‘Struggle for Pleasure’, and the music made Fabrizio feel melancholy, despite the quick beat. It seemed crazy that he was having dinner all alone without either one of his attractive colleagues, but Sonia was too tired and Francesca must have been busy if she hadn’t thought to call. He decided to take his time, strolling through the centre so he could check out the shop windows and bookshops. By the time he entered the trattoria, it was well past eight.

Pina came to take his order and brought him some bruschette and a glass of white wine to start. A group of teenage boys were already sitting in front of the TV, waiting for the whistle that would signal the start of the game, and there was a party of Germans at a long table downing one carafe after another while they waited for their food.

Pina got everyone served and came to sit at his table, seeing he was the only guest she’d be able to talk to now the game had begun and the Germans were already tipsy as well as impossible to understand.

‘Want to hear the latest, Doctor?’ she asked him with a mysterious air.

‘I most certainly do, Signora Pina,’ replied Fabrizio, imitating her tone.

‘The other night I saw a light filtering out from the cellar of the Caretti-Riccardi palace.’

‘Someone had gone down to get a bottle of wine,’ suggested Fabrizio.

‘Nothing to joke about, Doctor. A living soul has not crossed that threshold,’ she said, pointing at the front door, ‘since the late Count Ghirardini left, and he only lived there two or three years in all.’

‘So what was it, then, ghosts?’

‘Well, I certainly don’t know about that, but you tell me, you who are a man of letters and have an education. Who could have been down there at one o’clock in the morning, wandering around that cellar? Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.’

‘Someone, somewhere must still own the place. Maybe he came by to pick up something he needed . . .’ His voice trailed off as he realized how lame his reply sounded.

Pina shrugged. ‘They say that you’re studying the statue of the thin young boy at the museum.’

‘That’s the truth, but I’d like to know who told you that.’

‘Oh, this is a small place, people talk. You’re a stranger and everyone’s wondering what’s so special about that statue. It’s been there forever and no one has ever noticed it before now.’

‘You’re right, there’s nothing special about it. There’s a publisher coming out with a book about the Etruscans and they’re paying me to study a few statues at the Volterra museum. That’s all, Signora Pina. If you wouldn’t mind bringing my bill, I’ll be off towards home, then.’

‘You go right ahead, Doctor. Goodnight. Well, will you look at that?’ she added, glancing out the window.

‘What?’ asked Fabrizio.

‘Oh, nothing. It’s just the fire chief, who sleeps with attorney Anselmi’s wife. Oh, that’s right, it’s the weekend. The lawyer will have been at his other office in Grosseto yesterday and he’s probably still there.’

Fabrizio shook his head and got up. Joyful shouts exploded from the group clustered around the TV, leading Fabrizio to conclude that Fiorentina had scored. He paid his bill, tossed his jacket over his shoulders and walked out towards the Caretti-Riccardi palace instead of retracing his steps. He walked along the pavement that flanked the building down the whole block and noticed that every so often there was a heavy iron grating covering the cellar’s ventilation ducts.

The doors and windows were all closed and the paint was peeling. He’d walked practically all the way around the building and was approaching the facade when he heard the squeak of a door opening.

He ran around to the front and caught a fleeting glimpse of a child letting himself in from a smaller entrance next to the main door. Fabrizio saw him quite well in the lamplight: a slight, slender boy with short hair and big dark eyes. But it all happened very quickly. The child disappeared inside and the door clicked shut behind him.

Fabrizio ran to the door and knocked repeatedly but got no answer. The main door was covered with rust; it looked like no one had opened it for ages. The side door seemed firmly locked but evidently someone still had the key.

He walked off, perplexed. Who could that child be? If he’d had time, he would have been curious to go to the land registry office to find out who the current owners were. Maybe some well-heeled family from Milan living on Via Montenapoleone who had so many properties they’d forgotten about this one. Before turning on to Via di Porta dell’Arco, he glanced back impulsively at the dark mansion and saw a reddish reflection flashing briefly from behind one of the ventilation ducts on the rusticated base. He started and began to feel as if he were seeing things. He fought the urge to go back and take a closer look and turned instead towards the music that was coming from one of the little cafes in the centre, which sounded appealingly normal and real.

A more familiar glow shone from the open windows on his way and he heard the exclamations of the people inside watching the game on television. A carabiniere cruiser passed in absolute silence, as if it were running with the engine off. An old man rode by on his bicycle with a shoulder-length mane of white hair that fluttered in the breeze like a bride’s veil. A dog poked his nose into a bag of rubbish that he’d managed to get out of the bin. In the distance, Fabrizio could even hear the whirring blades of a helicopter, no doubt patrolling the countryside in search of invisible monsters. Fabrizio’s mobile phone rang loudly in his pocket and he jumped. In the dead calm of that sleepy city, any noise louder than a clock’s ticking sounded like a trumpet blast.

‘Hi, Sonia,’ he said as her name came up on the display panel.

‘Hi there, sweetie. I really am sorry I couldn’t keep you company for dinner. I was so tired I didn’t feel like eating.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Where are you?’

‘At the hotel.’

‘Good girl. Don’t go out on your own or you could get into trouble.’

‘I’ve heard. Two murders. You might have told me yourself.’

‘I didn’t want to frighten you.’

‘Frighten me, my arse. How long did you think it would take before I heard about them? Everyone knows what’s going on and they’re scared shitless. Where are you?’

‘Out.’

‘Do you feel like coming by?’

‘As in do I feel like a fuck?’

‘You jerk.’

‘Sorry. I can be there in ten minutes. Is something wrong?’

‘I’ve rebuilt the animal’s head. You can look him in the face. Virtually, that is.’

‘You’re kidding! Didn’t you say you were worn out and were going straight to bed?’

‘I’ve just got my second wind. I’m using an awesome program that I developed myself. I don’t fool around when it comes to work. And I don’t fuck around either.’

‘Too bad. I was starting to get ideas.’

‘Come on, move your arse. I’ll be waiting downstairs at the bar.’

Fabrizio reached his car and set off in the direction of Sonia’s hotel. She was sitting at a table, smoking and working on the laptop she had open in front of her.

‘Before I show you this I want to ask you something. When I first got here, the lower left canine was missing. I went out to buy a sandwich and when I came back it was in its place in the jaw. Was that someone’s idea of a stupid joke?’

‘No, sorry, no joke. I had it and I had meant to put it back.’

‘OK, one less mystery to explain. Ready, then?’

‘Wait, so how did you do this?’

‘Look,’ she said as the program was loading. ‘You plug in all the points at which the muscles join and then, based on the dimensions, the program recreates the muscle using an anatomy database.’

As Sonia was explaining, the skull of the animal appeared and was filled in with muscles, then veins, then skin.

‘What we cannot determine, obviously, is the colour of the eyes and the fur. But let’s say the fur was black – it seems to fit the situation. And we’ll say the eyes were . . . yellow, for the same reason.’

The beast’s head was shockingly real. Sonia picked a pose with its lips pulled back to bare gums bristling with pointed fangs, and revolved it. It looked like an enormous wolf but from some angles it shared certain features with a big cat. A terrifying combination, like some sort of bloodthirsty Cerberus.

Fabrizio shook his head incredulously. ‘It’s horrifying . . .’ he whispered. ‘But how realistic is this reconstruction? You’re not playing games with the program, are you?’

‘Let’s say that there’s a 90 per cent probability he looked like this. Obviously I can’t tell whether it was a male or a female. I’m guessing male. And maybe I have an idea of what it is.’

‘Well?’

‘I have to check out some sources at the library first. I want to be sure. But I do have an idea. So, then, what do you think?’

‘It’s fantastic, Sonia. I knew you were the best.’

They ordered a couple of beers and lingered for a while, chatting, then Fabrizio had her make him a copy and said goodnight.

He went back to his car and headed home. It was past eleven when he let himself in, switched on the light and turned on his computer. He inserted a disk and watched as the image of the young lad of Volterra appeared on the screen. The shade of twilight.

8

T
HE THREE-DIMENTIONAL
image rotated in the virtual space in front of him and the dark spot that he had noticed in the X-rays became larger in size and took on sharper contours as the resolution increased. It seemed to Fabrizio that there could be no doubt that the shape was that of a blade seemingly embedded in the boy’s side. He printed a paper copy with the intention of showing it to the NAS director the next day and asking permission to micro-drill a specimen for metallographic analysis. He was practically certain that it would confirm that a different alloy was present under the surface of the statue at the point made clear in the X-ray. If Balestra refused, he would ask to explore the statue from the tenons, the pins that anchored the feet to the base – a non-invasive method that would not damage the statue in any way. But it would be costly. And problematic. It would also involve removing the statue from public show for several days for an outcome that might be less than worth the trouble.

The telephone rang. An irritating burst of noise in that silence, at that hour of the night. Could it be Sonia? Reggiani? A thousand thoughts flitted through his head in the brief interval of time before he picked up the receiver and said hello.

‘I told you to leave the boy in peace! I warned you.’ It was the same female voice he had heard on the other two occasions. But harsher this time, commanding, threatening.

‘Listen,’ he hurriedly said, ‘don’t hang up. I—
’

But the mysterious caller had already cut the short. He replaced the receiver as well and remained standing for a few moments, deep in thought. A sudden awareness struck him and he ran over to where the switches were, next to the door, and flipped on all the outside lights. He grabbed a big torch from a drawer and raced through the door. The sound of an engine could be heard: a pickup or van passing on the road and disappearing into the distance.

She had to be very close if she’d seen him working on his computer and had seen the image of the boy on the screen. Fabrizio tore around the house, checking every corner, and kicked open the door to the stables, exploring the room thoroughly with his torch. Nothing, except for a clutch of cockroaches frozen at the centre of the floor, surprised by that sudden, noisy intrusion.

He pulled the door shut behind him and ran towards the bushes that skirted the olive grove to see if there were traces of footsteps on the soft ground. Nothing. He strained to listen for suspicious sounds. Only the flurrying wings of some startled bird interrupted the silence of the night. He slashed through the darkness with his ray of light, unwilling to believe there was nothing there. How could she have been watching him from so close without leaving any trace of her presence? Maybe she wasn’t close by at all; could she be observing him from a distance, through binoculars, and using a mobile phone to call him? What kind of woman would be wandering around these deserted fields in the middle of the night without any fear of the thing everything was terrified of?