The man folded up. His knees buckled and he fell, without losing his grip on Mercurio, who fell with him. Mercurio seemed to have fainted.
Tina seized the nearest bottle, jerked out the cork, and poured the contents over Mercurio’s face.
The boy spluttered, sat up and said, ‘Stop that. What on earth are you doing with that stuff? It’s gin.’
Maria, on the floor, gave a groan and rolled over on to her face.
‘Thank God!’ said Tina. ‘I thought I’d killed her.’
‘What about that one?’
‘Him! I don’t care if I have killed him.’
Mercurio looked at the bodies on the floor, looked at Tina, still holding the billiard cue, looked down at himself, and started to giggle.
‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I think we’d better get away from here. Right away. I’ll drive you out to my house–’
Tina said, doubtfully, ‘All right. But I hope we aren’t stopped. You look terrible. And smell terrible too–’
They reached the Villa Rasenna unchallenged. Mercurio parked the car, and led the way to a side door.
‘We can go straight up to my bedroom.’
‘To your–?’
‘Oh, that’s all right. Come on.’
In the bedroom he drew up a chair for Tina, poured her out a drink, and disappeared into the bathroom with an armful of clean clothes. The events in the café seemed to have given him a certain confidence.
When he reappeared twenty minutes later, he was his dapper self again.
‘That’s much better,’ said Tina. ‘You can hardly smell the gin at all. I’m sorry I poured it all over you. I thought it was water.’
‘You were splendid.’ said Mercurio.
‘You were pretty good yourself,’ said Tina. ‘You nearly bit his ear off.’
‘I wasn’t too bad, was I?’
They admired themselves, in silence, for a few moments.
‘Did you know,’ said Mercurio, ‘that I have certain quite remarkable attributes?’
‘One can detect that.’
‘That is the reason that Bruno adopted me. He was looking for Tages.’
‘For who?’
‘For Tages. It’s part of the Etruscan religion. They believed that every so often a baby called Tages was born who had divinity.’
‘How would they know?’ said Tina cautiously.
‘They would know because he would be perfect in every particular. Physical and mental. His proportions would be exact. He would excel at all natural sports, like running and jumping and riding and swimming.’
‘How could you tell – babies don’t ride or swim, do they?’
‘If your proportions are correct, and you suffer from no defect, these things follow.’
‘I suppose they must.’
‘But it is not only physical things. The mental side is even more important. It became clear at a very early age that I had exceptional mental powers. Particularly in the field of mathematics. At an early age I could perform astonishing feats of mental arithmetic. When I was seven, I gave a demonstration at the University of Perugia – that is Bruno’s university. In front of the Professors of the Mathematical Faculty. I multiplied seven-figure numbers in my head, and cubed other numbers of up to five figures.’
‘Goodness,’ said Tina. The events of the evening were combining with the drink to produce an overpowering desire for sleep. Mercurio seemed to have got his second wind.
‘It did not stop at that. Infant prodigies of this sort are not uncommon. They burn themselves out. I progressed to more sophisticated fields. At nine I was interested in permutations and combinations. At eleven, statics and dynamics. At twelve, the calculus.’
‘Did it do you any good? I mean, knowing all these things, was it any use to you?’
Mercurio grinned, losing some of his divinity in the process. ‘I’ll show you how useful it was,’ he said. ‘Come along.’
He led the way out of the room and down the back stairs, into the basement. They went along a corridor and came to a stout oak door, set in the thickness of the wall, which Mercurio unlocked, with a key from his chain.
‘Goodness,’ said Tina. ‘What on earth is it?’
‘Oh, this is Bruno’s tomb.’
‘He’s going to be buried here?’
‘That’s what he thinks.’
‘With all these pots and statues and things. Aren’t they terribly valuable?’
‘They’re all right,’ said Mercurio indifferently. ‘But they’re not the things that really matter. Look at the wall over there. No, a bit lower down. That’s right. Tap it with your knuckles.’
‘It’s not stone at all. It’s iron.’
‘It’s the door of a safe. Iron painted to look like stone. Clever, isn’t it?’
‘How does it open?’
‘Like this.’
Mercurio had taken out a penknife. He pushed the blade into a crack, and a square panel hinged outwards, revealing a dial.
‘It’s a combination lock. If you set the right eight numbers in the right order on the dial the door opens.’
‘Do you know the answer?’
‘Nobody knows the answer, except Bruno. Or that’s what he thought.’
Tina was examining the numbers on the lock. She felt excited and wide-awake again. She slid the smooth steel dial round with her finger, hearing it click as it moved. She set one or two complete numbers. ‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘You’d have to try for a long time to hit on the right ones, that is if you didn’t know it, wouldn’t you?’
‘Eight sets of numerals, from one to nine, but excluding nought, will give you forty-three million, forty-six thousand, seven hundred and twenty-one possibilities.’
‘It would take some time to try all those, wouldn’t it?’
‘If you took six seconds to set the dial and try the door and kept it up, without stopping, you could do it in eight years, sixty-eight days and nine hours, approximately.’
‘Approximately?’
‘That makes no allowance for leap years.’
‘I don’t think I’ll try it, thank you.’
‘There’s no need. As it happens, I have managed to work out the correct number.’
‘But how–’
‘Few people could have done it,’ admitted Mercurio, modestly. ‘My father allows me into this room. As you see, I have a key. On three occasions he has opened the safe when I have been in the room. On each occasion he made sure that I was too far away to see the number he set. But – this he did not know – in each case I had noted the number at which the dial already stood. And I was able to memorize which times he turned the dial clockwise, and which times he turned it anticlockwise. This presented me with a reasonably limited number of permutations, and from these I was able to calculate a single number which checked against all the data–’
As he spoke, Mercurio’s nimble fingers were twisting the dial. Bright-eyed, Tina hung over his shoulder. Both were too engrossed to see the shadow which had fallen across the doorway, or to hear the soft footfall on the stone floor behind them.
Three things happened in quick succession.
Mercurio clicked the final number into place, grasped the centre of the dial, and pulled. The door swung open for six tantalizing inches. Then a hand came over their shoulders, and pushed the door shut again.
Danilo Ferri said, ‘I don’t think your father will be very pleased about this.’
A call came through to the Carabiniere headquarters in the Via dei Bardi at ten minutes to eleven that evening. It was taken by Tenete Lupo. He listened patiently, said ‘I will look into it’, and made a note on the pad in front of him. To Carbiniere Scipione he said, ‘The call was from Signora Zecchi. She is worried that her daughter left the house nearly five hours ago, and has not returned.’
‘Zecchi? The name is familiar.’
‘She is the wife – the widow, I should say – of Milo Zecchi.’
‘Who was knocked down by the Englishman.�
�
‘Who is alleged to have been knocked down by the Englishman,’ said the lieutenant, gently. ‘We must not anticipate the verdict of the Court.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Will you go round now, and see what you can do for her. There is probably nothing in it. The girl is young and, I seem to remember, quite attractive. She is probably out with some man.’
So it came about that the magnificent Bronzini Daimler, driven by Arturo, impeccably uniformed, turned into the bottom end of the Sdrucciolo Benedetto at the same moment as the sleek black Police car turned into the top. They arrived outside the Zecchi front door simultaneously, and stood, headlight to headlight, like two formidable animals meeting unexpectedly on a narrow jungle track.
Annunziata, who had opened the door, stood staring for a moment then, as Tina stepped out of the Daimler, rushed forward and clasped her to her bosom.
‘But why?’ said Tina, for the third time. ‘I have often been later before. Much later. It is not yet midnight.’
‘I know, carissima.’
‘And you have to telephone the Police, as if some disaster had occurred.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘It is so unlike you, cara mamma.’
Upon which Annunziata burst into tears. When these had subsided, she said, between sniffles, ‘I was afraid for you, it was what those men said.’
‘What men?’
‘On the afternoon of the funeral.’
‘Tell me.’
‘They said that if I told anything, they would hurt you terribly.’
‘And you believed them.’
‘I had to believe them. They were from Sicily.’
‘And because they were from Sicily, does that make them supermen? Does that mean that the Police have ceased to exist? Does it mean that there is no more law and order? And besides – see what happens – you obey them, you tell me nothing; and still you are frightened out of your wits when I am not home by eleven o’clock. So what have you gained by your silence?’
‘That’s logical, you know,’ said Mercurio. He had been sitting quietly in the corner ignoring these family tantrums. ‘If you’re going to be scared either way, you might just as well tell us all about it.’
Annunziata said, ‘Very well–’
When she had finished Mercurio said, ‘I was quite right, you see.’
‘Right about what?’
‘I felt it when I was in the backroom of that café. My instincts are never at fault in such a matter. Something horrible happened there.’
8
The Consul is Troubled
Commander Comber had telelphoned the office of Avvocato Toscafundi at ten o’clock in the morning, when he was told that the lawyer had not yet arrived; at eleven o’clock, to learn that he was in conference; and at twelve o’clock, to find that he had departed for an early lunch. At two o’clock, and three o’clock, he had not come back from lunch. At four o’clock he was engaged again.
At five o’clock the Commander left a message. He said that he quite appreciated that the lawyer was a busy man, and might not be able to fit him in during business hours. This being so, he had ascertained his private address from the telephone directory, and would call on him, at his home, that evening after dinner.
The secretary who took the message sounded doubtful. She said she would ring back. The Commander smiled grimly and said that it was very good of her. Ten minutes later the telephone in his flat rang again. The secretary said that if he could manage to come round right away, Avvocato Toscafundi would see him.
The Commander said that he would be with him in ten minutes. He carefully fastened the new mortice lock which he had had put on his door, and ran down the steps.
(It was at about this time that Mercurio and Tina were having a little trouble in the café.)
The Commander came straight to the point. He said, ‘When we last spoke together, I said that we had suspicions of a man called Labro Radicelli. He had quarrelled with Broke just before the accident, and offered to sell him important information. This offer he repeated to me, in writing, although unfortunately omitting to put his address on the letter. When I told you this, you advised me to forget about it. Labro, you said, had nothing to do with the case.’
‘That is so. A cigarette? I forgot. You don’t smoke, do you?’
‘You said that Labro was a wild goose and it would be a waste of time tracing him or chasing him.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Then why did you trace him? And not only trace him, but visit him, yourself, yesterday afternoon.’
‘I? You must be imagining things.’
‘Quit stalling,’ said the Commander. ‘Your Maserati coupé was tucked away behind the farm when I got there. I saw it with my own eyes.’
The lawyer had extracted a cigarette from the silver box on the table, and was now fitting it, with great deliberation, into a holder. He said, with an edge to his voice, ‘I am afraid I cannot agree that I am answerable to you for my actions.’
‘Quite so,’ said the Commander. ‘That’s what’s bothering me. Exactly who are you answerable to? Your prime object so far seems to have been to persuade your client to plead guilty. When his friends unearth a witness who might be helpful, you hurry off to him yourself and shut his mouth – don’t interrupt, please. It stuck out a mile that Labro had got more money out of you than he hoped to get out of us. He as good as told me so.’
‘If he said anything of the sort, it was a lie.’
‘So you admit, now, that you did go to see him.’
‘I neither admit it, nor deny it. And you have no right to question me.’
‘I’ve every right to do it. You may be the biggest name in law in this city, but to me you’re just a double-crossing little shyster, who’s sold out his client, because his real backer has paid him to do it.’
‘I won’t listen to this.’
‘You’ll listen and like it. Because I’m going to report you to your professional organization.’
Toscafundi smiled. ‘Do you think,’ he said, ‘that they will believe such a wild story?’
‘Maybe not. But I’ll tell you one man who may believe it, and that’s the Sindaco, who has a certain amount of influence in this town and may have more if the elections swing in a certain direction. He happens to be a friend of Broke’s.’
Toscafundi had got to his feet. There was a red flush across his cheekbones, and the rest of his face was white. He said, ‘You realize that unless this wild and unfounded accusation is withdrawn, I cannot possibly continue with the case.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve heard so far.’
‘You talk of reporting me to the head of the legal faculty. You are mistaken. It is I who will do the reporting. And I should surmise that, when I have repeated to him some of the slanderous statements you have made to me, no other lawyer – no other respectable lawyer – will agree to handle the case.’
‘Better no lawyer than a crook lawyer,’ said the Commander. ‘I’ll show myself out.’
At nine o’clock next morning, in answer to an urgent telephone call, the Commander drove up to the Consul’s house. Turning in at the gateway, he had to brake sharply to avoid another car coming out. He fancied that he recognized the young man who was driving it. A lawyer, he thought, and one of the candidates in the Municipal elections. He had seen his photograph on a poster, but could not remember the name.
The Consul was in his study. He had with him a long, serious-looking man with a brown face and a grey moustache, who reminded the Commander of Mr Badger, in The Wind in the Willows, but who turned out to be an English solicitor called Tom Proctor.
‘We’re all friends of Broke’s,’ said the Consul. ‘So I can speak quite frankly. I’m afraid you’ve made things a bit difficult for us, Commander.’
‘If I’ve done that, I’m sorry,’ said the Commander. He didn’t sound too penitent. ‘What’s happened now?’
‘My telephone has been ringing since e
ight o’clock this morning. I’ve had the head of the Florence bar, the President of the Institute of Advocates, and the Secretary General of the Ordine degli Avvocati e dei Procuratori di Firenze.’
‘An impressive bunch. What had they got to say?’
‘Their complaint was that you had brow-beaten and insulted one of the most eminent members of the legal faculty in Florence. In one version, you had actually threatened him with physical assault. Since you were a British subject, you were my responsibility. And would I kindly see that you stopped it.’
‘I see,’ said the Commander. ‘And now would you like to hear the truth?’
‘Certainly.’
When he had finished, Tom Proctor said, ‘Did you ask him why he’d gone out to see Labro?’
‘It was perfectly obvious why he’d been to see him.’
‘No doubt. But did you actually ask for his explanation. Speaking as a lawyer myself, if I had the conduct of a case and an outsider – you’ll excuse me putting it so bluntly – came along with a story of a surprise witness, I might easily pooh-pooh the idea. But, equally, I might go and see him myself, to make sure that he had got nothing of importance to say.’
‘It’s possible,’ said the Commander. ‘But it doesn’t account for one thing. Labro had originally got something to sell. He said so to Broke. He wrote as much to me. But when I got there, the auction was over. The lot was no longer for sale. I’d been outbid. And who by, if not by that slimy toad?’
‘Calling him names isn’t going to mend what you’ve done,’ said the Consul. ‘And I hope you realize exactly what it is. We shan’t now get any reputable lawyer in Florence to handle this case.’
‘Oh, come. It can’t be as bad as that. Finding a lawyer is usually a matter of finding enough money to pay for him.’
‘And where are we going to do that?’
The Commander looked a bit blank.
‘There’s no legal aid system in Italy, you know. Can you think of someone who’ll put up, say, five hundred pounds as an advance against costs?’
The Etruscan Net Page 14