I Am God

by Giorgio Faletti

  ‘Hi, Vivien. Bellew here.’

  He had never before called her at home, certainly never on her day off. She immediately knew what was coming next.

  ‘What is it?’

  There wasn’t any need to specify the subject. Both of them knew only too well.

  ‘It’s a mess. I’ve just come out of a long meeting at One Police Plaza with the commissioner and all the precinct chiefs. I’m recalling all my men. I need to see you all tonight to bring you up to date with the situation.’

  ‘Is it that bad?’

  ‘Yes. What the press knows is nothing yet. Though I have to say we don’t know much more than they do right now. There’s a distinct possibility the city may be under attack. But I’ll explain all that in person. Nine o’clock at the precinct.’

  ‘OK. I’ll be there.’

  The captain lowered his voice. He was a friend now, not just a superior officer dealing with an emergency.

  ‘I’m sorry, Vivien. I know how hard you’ve been working lately and I know all the things you’ve got on your plate. I know you were supposed to be going to the U2 concert with your niece. But all public gatherings have been suspended until further notice anyway.’

  ‘I know. They just said that on TV.’

  The captain paused. Out of sympathy, not embarrassment.

  ‘How is Sundance?’

  Bellew had two daughters not much older than her niece. Vivien thought he was probably seeing their faces as he asked that question.

  ‘Fine.’

  She said it softly, the way you cling to an illusion rather than a certainty. The captain understood and left it at that.

  ‘See you tonight, then.’

  ‘Bye, Alan. Thanks.’

  Vivien hung up and put the phone down next to the sink. For a moment she looked at the two plates as if they were immersed in the depths of the ocean instead of a few inches of water.

  When she turned, Sundance was standing on the other side of the counter. She was an adult at that moment, with old eyes in a girl’s body. Everything around her was telling her that whatever we possess can be taken away without warning. More than ever, Vivien felt that she wanted to teach her, to show her that many beautiful things can happen just as unexpectedly.

  How, she didn’t yet know. But she would learn. And she would save both of them.

  Her niece smiled at her, as if she had read her thoughts. ‘We have to go back to Joy, don’t we?’

  Vivien nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’ll go pack my bag.’

  She walked away down the corridor, towards the bedroom. Vivien went to the little safe, rather unimaginatively concealed behind a painting. She punched in the combination, opened it, and took out her pistol and shield.

  Sundance was at the end of the corridor, waiting for her with her bag in her hand. There was no trace of disappointment on her face. Vivien would have preferred that, rather than this premature resignation.

  They had planned to go running together along the Hudson in the afternoon, before enjoying an evening of fun, lost amid the concert crowd and carried on a wave of euphoria, the kind only music can give you.

  Instead of which …

  They went down onto the street and walked to the car. It was a gorgeous day, but right now the sun, the slight breeze and the intense blue of the sky seemed somehow mocking, as if nature was showing off rather than offering a gift to human beings.

  Vivien pressed the remote control and opened the car doors. Sundance threw her bag on the back seat and then came and sat down next to her. As Vivien was starting the engine, the girl’s thin voice caught her off guard.

  ‘Have you been to see Mother lately?’

  Vivien wasn’t sure what to say in reply. They hadn’t broached the subject in months. She turned to her niece, who was looking out the window as if ashamed of her question or afraid of the answer.

  ‘Yes. I went yesterday.’

  ‘How is she?’

  Where is she? would have been a more accurate question.

  That was the thought that came to her instinctively, but she didn’t say it out loud. She tried to keep her voice as normal as possible as she told the truth, which was what she had decided to do.

  ‘She isn’t well.’

  ‘Do you think I could see her?’

  For a moment Vivien found it hard to breathe, as if the air inside the car had suddenly become rarefied. ‘I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I don’t think she’d recognize you.’

  Sundance looked at her, her face streaked with tears. ‘I’d recognize her. That’d be enough.’

  Vivien was suddenly overwhelmed with tenderness. It was the first time she had seen her niece cry since that terrible business. She didn’t know if the girl ever succumbed to the illusory solace of tears when she was alone. With her aunt and all the other people she came in contact with she was always self-possessed, as if she had built a wall between herself and her own humanity to keep pain out.

  All at once she saw the girl Sundance used to be, relived all the wonderful times they had spent together. She leaned forward in her seat and embraced her, trying to wipe out the terrible things both of them needed to forget. Sundance took refuge in that embrace, and they were motionless for a long time, leaving all the space they had inside for that wave of emotion.

  Vivien heard her niece’s voice, broken by sobs, coming from somewhere beneath her hair. ‘Oh, Vunny, I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me …’

  She kept repeating these words until Vivien hugged her harder and placed a hand on her head. She knew that this was an important moment in their lives and she prayed to whatever being was responsible for human existence to help her find the right words.

  ‘Shhhhhh. That’s all over now. It’s all over.’

  She said that phrase twice, to convince her and to convince herself.

  Vivien held her like that until Sundance’s sobs subsided. When they moved apart, Vivien leaned towards the glove compartment, opened it, and took out a box of Kleenex.

  She handed it to Sundance. ‘Here. If we carry on like this, this car will soon be an aquarium.’

  She said that to lighten the tension and seal this new-found bond between them. Sundance gave a little smile. She took one of the tissues and wiped her eyes.

  Vivien did the same.

  The girl’s resolute voice surprised her as she wiped her eyes. ‘There was a man.’

  Vivien waited. The worst thing to do now would be to express impatience, to insist on the girl coming clean. But Sundance didn’t need any prompting. Now that the wall had come down, it seemed that all the dark things hidden on the other side needed urgently to find daylight.

  ‘It was someone I met, who gave me things. Someone who organized—’

  Her voice cracked. Vivien understood it was still difficult for her to utter certain words and use certain expressions.

  ‘Do you remember his name?’

  ‘I don’t know his real name. Everybody called him Ziggy Stardust. I think it was a nickname.’

  ‘Do you know where he lives? Do you have his telephone number?’

  ‘No. I only saw him once. And he was always the one who called me.’

  Vivien took a deep breath to calm the beating of her heart. She knew what she would have to fight against in the next few days. Her anger and her instincts. The desire to track down that bastard and empty a full round of bullets in his head.

  She looked at her niece. For the first time the look she got in return was direct and unclouded. Now she knew she could talk to her in a new way, a way she would understand.

  ‘There’s something happening in this city. Something very ugly that may cost the lives of many people. That’s why the whole of the New York Police Department is on a state of alert, and that’s why I have to be at the precinct tonight. To try to prevent what just happened from happening again.’

  She gave her time to absorb what she had said
. And to prepare her for what she was about to say.

  ‘But I promise you one thing. I won’t rest until I’ve made sure that man won’t do anyone any harm ever again.’

  Sundance simply nodded. For the moment, that was all that was needed between them. Vivien started the engine and set off towards Joy, which would be her niece’s home for a little while longer. She was anxious to tell Father McKean about the progress they’d made, but as she joined the traffic, she couldn’t help thinking about the new mission. Whoever this elusive Ziggy Stardust was, his life was about to become a living hell.

  CHAPTER 17

  Vivien opened the glass-fronted door and walked into the precinct house.

  She left outside a bright sunny morning that showed not the slightest inclination to follow her in. This was usually a familiar place to her. A frontier outpost bang in the middle of civilization, which still gave her a sense of home she didn’t find anywhere else.

  Today was different. Today there was something abnormal in the air and inside her, a sense of anxiety and electric tension she couldn’t define. She had read somewhere that, in times of peace, the warrior fights himself. She wondered what kind of war she would have to fight in the days to come. And how much space each of them would still have for his or her own inner conflict.

  In a precinct house, peace wasn’t a state of waiting. It was a dream.

  She waved to the officers on duty behind the desk and went through the door leading to the upper floor. She started climbing the stairs, leaving behind her the roll-call room where, the night before, leaning on the desk, Captain Alan Bellew had updated all the off-duty officers on the situation.

  He’d begun, ‘As I guess you’ve all realized by now, this is a really nasty business. It’s now been established that the building on 10th Street was blown up deliberately. The experts have found traces of explosive. The worst you could think of. TNT combined with napalm. That’s one detail the media don’t yet have, though you can bet they soon will. Whoever did this was aiming to cause the maximum damage, combining the incendiary effect of napalm and the explosive power of TNT. The building was mined with surgical precision. How the perpetrators managed to set the charges so carefully without attracting attention is still a mystery. You don’t need me to tell you that everyone’s working on this: FBI, NSA, CIA, you name it. And us, of course.’

  Bellew had paused.

  ‘This morning there was a meeting at the commissioner’s office with the mayor and a couple of bigwigs from Washington. The Defcon level is on maximum readiness. That means all military bases and airfields are on a war footing. I’m telling you this so you can see how seriously everyone’s taking this.’

  Vincent Narrow, a tall, well-built detective sitting in the front row, had raised a hand. The captain gestured to him to speak.

  ‘Has anyone claimed responsibility?’

  They were all wondering the same thing. In spite of all the time that had passed, the ghosts of 9/11 were far from being exorcized.

  Bellew had shaken his head. ‘Nobody at all. For the moment we don’t know any more about that than the TV channels. Al-Qaeda has put out a communiqué on the Internet disclaiming responsibility. The computer experts are checking if it’s genuine. There’s always a possibility some other group of fanatics is behind this, but these guys are usually very eager to take the credit.’

  Another question came from the back of the room. ‘Do we have any leads?’

  ‘Not even the ghost of a lead. Apart from the unusual combination of explosives.’

  Finally Vivien asked the question they were all afraid to hear the answer to. ‘How many dead?’

  The captain sighed. ‘For the moment, more than ninety. The reason the number wasn’t higher is that this was Saturday night, and a lot of people were out or away for the weekend. But it’s bound to rise. Some were horribly burned. There won’t be many wounded.’

  The captain had left them all a moment to absorb the figure. And to join it in their minds to the images that TV channels were broadcasting all over the world.

  ‘This isn’t a massacre on the scale of 9/11, but when you take the expertise of the bombers into account, it may only be the beginning of something bigger. So what I ask all of you is this: keep your eyes and ears wide open. Pursue the investigations you’ve already been assigned, but in the meantime don’t rule out anything, even the smallest detail. Spread the word among your informers. We have authorization to promise anything we like, from money to cutting deals on charges, to anyone who provides useful information.’

  He took some photographs from his desk and showed them to his men.

  ‘These were taken around the scene of the attack. They’ll be displayed on the noticeboard upstairs. Maniacs often get a kick from going back to the scene of their crimes. They may not be any use, but who knows? Anyhow, take a look at them. You never know where a lead might come from. That’s all for now.’

  The meeting broke up and everyone left the room, commenting on the events. Some went back home, others hit the city to enjoy what was left of their Sunday. They all looked a lot more worried than when they’d come in.

  Vivien, who had come directly from the Bronx to the precinct house, recovered her car from the parking lot and reluctantly joined the slow-moving traffic home. The next day, the city would wake up and resume its usual frenzied race towards some unknown goal. But for the moment there was calm and time to think. And that was what Vivien needed. As soon as she got home, she took a shower and went straight to bed, where she tried in vain to read a book. For what remained of the night she slept little and badly. The captain’s words, combined with what she and Sundance had witnessed, preyed on her mind. In addition, she had been disoriented by Father McKean’s behaviour when they had met at Joy. She had spoken with him of the progress she had made in her relationship with her niece, and how open Sundance had been. His response hadn’t been what she had expected. He had greeted this news with a lukewarm smile and words that seemed more polite than enthusiastic. He hadn’t seemed the person she’d come to know, the person she’d admired ever since she first met him. Several times, he’d turned the conversation around to the bombing, asking about the means used, the number of victims, how the investigation was going. Vivien had come away with a sense that something was eating Father McKean and she didn’t know what it was.

  Now, Vivien walked into the detectives’ squadroom. Only a couple of her colleagues were at their desks. The Plaza was empty.

  She gave a wave that took in everybody and nobody. The camaraderie which usually pervaded the room had disappeared. Everyone was silent, absorbed in their own thoughts.

  She sat down at her desk, switched on the computer, and linked to the police database. She entered her user ID and password and, as soon as she had access, typed in the name Ziggy Stardust. After a few moments a photograph appeared, along with his record. She was surprised to find herself looking at a nondescript, bland face. He looked like the kind of person you meet and immediately forget. A complete nonentity.

  ‘Here you are, you son of a bitch.’

  She quickly read through all the things Zbigniew Malone alias Ziggy Stardust had been involved with. He was a type that Vivien knew well. A small-time crook, the kind who spends all his life on the edges of crime without ever really getting his feet wet. Someone who didn’t enjoy a scrap of respect even among his own kind. He had been arrested several times for various offences. Bag snatching, drug dealing, pimping, crap like that. He had also done a little time, but less than Vivien would have expected, given his résumé.

  She looked for his address, and saw that it was in Brooklyn. She knew a detective who worked out of the 67th Precinct, a bright, easy-going guy she’d once worked a case with. She picked up the phone and asked to speak with Detective Star. After a few moments, she heard his voice, slightly guttural, just as she remembered it.

  ‘Star speaking.’

  ‘Hi, Robert. It’s Vivien Light, from the 13th.’

 
; ‘Vivien, light of the human race. To what do I owe the honour?’

  ‘I’m flattered by your description, though I’m not sure the human race agrees.’

  She heard Star’s laughter. ‘I see you haven’t changed. What do you need?’

  ‘Information.’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘What do you know about a guy who goes by the name Ziggy Stardust?’

  ‘I know a whole lot of things about him, but the first one that comes to mind is that he’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘That’s right. Murdered. Stabbed to death, to be precise. They found him yesterday in his apartment, lying on the floor in a pool of blood. According to the post mortem, the death occurred on Saturday. He was small fry, but someone decided he didn’t deserve to live. We sometimes used him as an informer.’

  Vivien added informer to the list of Ziggy Stardust’s activities she already had in her possession. That would explain why he’d got off so lightly in his dealings with the law. Usually, in return for some reliable tip-offs, they turned a blind eye to illegal enterprises of lesser importance.

  ‘Do you have the killer?’

  She’d have liked to add that, if they did, she’d have gladly gone to the jail and given that person a medal, but she held back.

  ‘No, and with all the crap that scumbag was into, I don’t think it’ll be easy. And let’s be honest about this, no one’s weeping tears over him. We’re handling the case, but with all that’s going down right now, finding whoever whacked this guy isn’t exactly top priority.’

  ‘I can believe that. Keep me informed. I may even tell you why, if I have to.’

  ‘OK.’

  Vivien hung up and sat there for a moment mulling over the information she had just received. Then she decided to print the file she had on the screen. She intended to show the photograph to Sundance, to confirm that he really was the man she had told him about. She couldn’t summon up any shame over the small, mean sense of euphoria she felt inside her. Ziggy Stardust’s ugly end showed that revenge and justice sometimes went hand in hand. What she had promised her niece had come to pass earlier than she had foreseen. Vivien’s one regret was that she couldn’t take any credit for it.