Free The Ancient Curse by Valerio Massimo Manfredi Page A

and the Finanza do what we can, but there aren’t enough of us – the territory is quite vast and the locals aren’t always willing to lend a hand. I’ve talked to our anti-trafficking squad down in Rome and they confirm that Rastelli was picked up a few years ago for possession of stolen archaeological objects.’
    ‘Which doesn’t necessarily make him a professional tomb robber,’ observed Fabrizio. ‘I’m assuming you have no proof that he was at the Rovaio site with Ronchetti that night. Or do you?’
    ‘I’ve had the soil from the soles of his shoes analysed and yes, it does correspond to the soil in that area. But, unfortunately, it’s the same soil you’ll find anywhere around here, including the neighbourhood where Rastelli lives.’
    ‘So you’re back to the starting line?’
    ‘Yes, we are. He might have been present at the break-in, but then again, he might not. But let us suppose for a moment that, since we can’t exclude the possibility, Aurelio Rastelli was at the Rovaio tomb site on Wednesday night with Ronchetti and with a third individual we have not as yet identified. At that point, the two murdered men would have something in common – that is, they teamed up in the attempt to plunder an Etruscan tomb.’
    ‘All you need to do, then, is uncover the identity of the third man. You put a couple of well-armed units on his tail and wait until the killer – man or beast – shows up. Then you capture him or take him out.’
    ‘I could hire you as an investigator,’ Reggiani complimented him.
    ‘Yeah, an archaeologist is a bit like an investigator, Lieutenant, but there’s a difference. You arrive at the scene of a crime a few minutes or at most a few hours after the fact. We don’t get there until centuries later.’
    ‘That’s true. I never thought of that. But, as I was saying, we are unfortunately not certain that the second victim is actually connected to the first and we can’t afford to wait until we find the third. I’ve got too many people breathing down my neck.’
    ‘How can I help you, then?’
    Reggiani lowered his head as though he were too embarrassed to express his thoughts in words. ‘I don’t know how to say this . . . Well, I have the impression that all this originated from the opening or, if you prefer, the violation of the Rovaio tomb. I know this will make you laugh, but I can’t help but wonder if . . . somehow . . . if it’s not the fault of some . . .’
    ‘Curse?’ offered Fabrizio, without a trace of sarcasm in his tone.
    ‘Well, I don’t know how to explain this . . . but I can tell you that sometimes, when we don’t have a scrap of information to go on, we’ve resorted to consulting certain individuals – you know . . . psychics, to be blunt. I can assure you that the results have been astonishing at times. It’s done abroad as well, in France, the US . . .’
    ‘Confidentially speaking, Lieutenant, there are archaeologists who consult psychics as well, though I’m not sure with what kind of success rate. Personally, I’ve never believed in them,’ Fabrizio went on, ‘but I must admit you have quite a problem on your hands. You don’t know where to turn.’
    ‘You’re right. We have no trail to follow, no evidence to examine. Nothing to go on, in short.’
    Fabrizio thought of what he had imagined while he was at work below and he felt a chill go up his spine. Reggiani noticed his shudder.
    ‘What about that chase the other night?’ asked Fabrizio to distract the officer from his own reaction. ‘You had your guys out in full force.’
    ‘Right, and that attracted a little too much attention. We tried to pass it off as a man hunt after a robbery. Anyway, we turned up nothing. Like looking for ghosts. There’s nothing we haven’t tried. This morning I saw an anatomopathologist and spoke to our medical examiner, Dr La Bella. He’s a man of few words but great experience, and the results of his autopsy were, simply put, horrifying.