Free Ratking by Michael Dibdin Page A

this.’
    Zen sniffed the grappa appreciatively.
    ‘I’m even more curious to know why they agreed to come.’
    ‘The Milettis? Oh, they came because each thought that the others were coming and no one wanted to be left out. This afternoon on the Corso, just before we spoke, I ran into Silvio. I mentioned the dinner and let him think that Cinzia and her husband were coming. Silvio didn’t care for the idea of Cinzia and Gianluigi discussing matters with you behind his back, so he agreed to come. Then I phoned Cinzia and told her that Silvio was coming, with the same result. And no one wanted to be the first to leave. If it hadn’t been for the foreigner I might have had to throw them out!’
    He did not make this prospect sound too displeasing.
    ‘And Daniele?’

    ‘Daniele’s less predictable. But you can usually get him to do something by convincing him that you don’t want him to do it. I told Cinzia not to mention the dinner to him, which is like asking someone to carry water in a sieve. He assumed he was being excluded and barged in trying to be as rude as possible to everyone. Little did he suspect that that was precisely what I wanted! But there you are, you see. They think they’re so clever, these children, but once you understand how they work you can do anything you like with them. It’s just a shame that Valesio couldn’t make it. If only we’d been able to discuss the kidnapping you’d really have seen what we’re up against.’
    Zen considered this for a moment.
    ‘I thought we were up against a gang of kidnappers.’
    ‘If only we were!’ Crepi exclaimed. ‘How simple that would be. But that’s why I invited you here this evening. Because if you’re to help, really help, the first thing you have to realize is that this is no ordinary kidnapping, for the simple reason that the Milettis are no ordinary family. Let’s start with Silvio. Of the whole brood, he’s the one who resembles his father most, physically I mean. In every other way they couldn’t be more different. Silvio hasn’t the slightest interest in the firm, or in anything else except his stamp collection, and one or two nastier hobbies. Ruggiero has never understood him. For example, when the time came for Silvio to do his military service everyone assumed that his father would make a few phone calls and get him exempted. Well, Ruggiero made the phone calls all right, but to make sure that Silvio not only did his full time but did it in some mosquito-ridden dump in Sardinia. He’d just begun to realize that his son was a bit of a pansy, you see, and he reckoned that was the way to make a man of him. I don’t think Silvio’s ever forgiven him for it. Not just the time in Sardinia, but above all the humiliation of having a father who thought so little of him he wouldn’t even play a few cards in Rome to get him off the hook.’
    Crepi stood up, opened a small ceramic jar on the mantelpiece and extracted a short cigar. He offered one to Zen, who shook his head and extracted one of the four Nazionali remaining. He realized with dismay that he had forgotten to bring a supply of those deliciously coarse cigarettes made from domestic tobacco, costing only a few hundred lire a pack but as difficult to find as wild mushrooms. In Rome he could count on getting them from a tobacconist to whose son he had once given a break, but in Perugia what would he do?
    ‘I won’t waste time on Cinzia,’ Crepi continued. ‘She’s just a pretty child who’s growing old without ever having grown up. There are only two important things about her. One is that husband of hers. I must admit to a sneaking admiration for Gianluigi, although he’s undoubtedly one of the most appalling shits ever invented. He’s not from round here, of course. You spotted those ugly Tuscan ‘c’s, like a cat being sick? Santucci’s been on the make since the day he was conceived. Marrying Cinzia Miletti hasn’t done his career any harm, of course, but he would