The Age of Doubt (18 page)

Mimì Augello came back out onto the deck of the
Vanna
just after six o’clock, accompanied by Captain Sperlì. Mimì descended the gangway; the captain remained on board.

The moment he set foot on the wharf, Mimì pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. Then he started walking towards his car.

He’d taken barely three steps when a police car, siren blaring, cut off his path with tires screeching loudly. In a flash he sprang forward, circled round the car, and started running madly towards the northern entrance of the port.

Meanwhile Fazio and Gallo got out of the car, pistols in hand, and started giving chase.

“Stop! Police!” Fazio cried at a certain point.

And since Mimì kept on running without paying any notice, Fazio fired a shot in the air. Mimì continued running.

At this point, as soon as Mimì came within range, the Customs policeman standing guard at the northern entrance pointed his carbine at him.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” the man shouted.

Augello got scared.

For all he knew, the guy might very well shoot in earnest, unaware that the whole thing was staged. Mimì suddenly stopped and put up his hands.

“Couldn’t you have run a little less fast, Inspector?” a panting Fazio asked as he slapped the handcuffs on him.

Flanked by Fazio and Gallo, Augello retraced his steps back to the police car. The entire crew of the
Ace of Hearts
, having heard the shot and the shouting, were now out on the deck, watching him walk past. On the
Vanna
, there were instead only two spectators: Giovannini and Sperlì. But they were enough.

“
Matre santa!
” Mimì said, out of breath, to Montalbano, who had stayed in the car. “That Customs cop scared the life out of me!”

Back at the office, Inspector Rollo was already waiting for them. Montalbano introduced her to Augello and Fazio and explained who she was.

Mimì then turned to Montalbano.

“But, earlier today, did you come aboard the
Vanna
?”

“Yes. I wanted to make them a little nervous, so that when you arrived around five, they—”

“Well, you certainly succeeded! Talk about nervous! Livia . . .”

It had slipped out. He stopped in midsentence, blushed, and looked at Roberta Rollo, who smiled amicably.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Montalbano.

“At a certain point, La Giovannini told Sperlì she was positive you’d figured everything out and that they mustn’t allow you any time to act. But what did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say anything. I just let him notice, as if by chance, that I had some printouts on the Kimberley Process, which you’d mentioned to me, in my pocket. And so it must have looked to them as if I knew more about it than I actually do . . . But tell me what happened.”

“Well, as soon as I got there, La Giovannini was already very upset and told me she had changed her mind.”

“They’d decided not to take you on?”

“No, they’d changed my function, but only temporarily.”

“In what sense?”

“I was to carry a suitcase to Paris, taking an itinerary that they were going to explain to me tonight, shortly before they left. They plan to set sail at dawn. Then, after turning over the suitcase, I was to take a flight to Sierra Leone.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said okay.”

“What excuse did you use for leaving the ship?”

“I said I had to go to the police station to get my passport before the office closed at six.”

“Did they specify whether the suitcase was actually a suitcase and not an overnight bag?” Roberta Rollo asked.

“Yes. It was a rather large and heavy suitcase whose contents I was supposed to transfer later to two smaller suitcases.”

Inspector Rollo whistled through clenched teeth.

“Apparently they put all the diamonds that were on both boats into a single suitcase. And they were going to have Inspector Augello do what Lannec was supposed to have done. That much is clear. However . . . They were entrusting him with a cargo of immense value . . . a suitcase full of uncut diamonds . . . with no guarantee. Seems strange to me.”

“Just a minute,” said Mimì. “Giovannini told me I was going to leave for Paris late tomorrow morning. A car would come and pick me up, with another person besides the driver.”

“So you were going to go all the way to Paris by car?”

“Yes.”

“So, to conclude,” said Inspector Rollo, “we know for certain that the diamonds are still on board. We must take immediate action.”

She looked at her watch. It was quarter to seven.

“Now let me tell you what we’re going to do.”

18

At eight o’clock sharp, when there was still sufficient light, a Harbor Office car was going to stop in front of the
Ace of Hearts
’ gangway, and an officer, using some pretext or other, would go aboard to see how many crew members were present and then relay this information to Inspector Rollo via his cell phone.

Rollo, meanwhile, would direct the operation from a car parked on the wharf, far enough not to be seen but close enough so she could see everything. The information the officer was to give her would be very important, because the crew of the
Ace of Hearts
had already killed at least two people and were criminals capable of anything. There was no need to do the same with the
Vanna
, since there were only three people implicated in the illegal traffic: Giovannini, Captain Sperlì, and old Alvarez.

Rollo, in turn, would then communicate the number of people on board to Montalbano, who would be in the first of the two Vigàta police cars, driven by Gallo. The first as well as the second car—the latter directed by Fazio—would each have four policemen inside.

The two cars were then supposed to drive into the port through the north entrance at high speed but without sirens. The first would pull up in front of the
Ace of Hearts
, the second in front of the
Vanna
. The men would then pour out of the cars, weapons in hand, climb onto the boats in every way possible, like pirates, and take control of the two craft.

The greater the element of surprise, the better.

The more difficult task would fall to the first car, since they would have to deal with the crew of the cruiser and would likely encounter some resistance.

Once everyone on board the two boats was immobilized, Inspector Rollo would call the Customs Police, who would already be waiting at the north entrance, and tell them to search for the large suitcase with the uncut diamonds.

Not knowing how things would really play out, however, Montalbano had arranged for Mimì Augello to go with two men to all the bars and taverns in Vigàta and arrest any sailor from the
Vanna
or
Ace of Hearts
that they encountered. All of them, even those who Inspector Rollo said had nothing to do with the plot. It was best to play it safe.

On paper, everything looked as if it should work out to perfection.

But with each minute that passed and brought him closer to the start of things, Montalbano felt a great sense of agitation growing inside him. And, without knowing why, he fidgeted and fretted inside the car, huffing as if he couldn’t breathe.

There were four of them: Gallo beside him, and in back, Galluzzo and Martorana, an alert young officer. The inspector had his pistol in his pocket, while the other three were armed with machine guns. Gallo kept the engine idling, ready to break into a Formula One dash.

Montalbano opened the car door.

“What, you want to get out?” a flummoxed Gallo asked him.

“No. I just want to smoke a cigarette.”

“Then it’d be better if you shut the door and opened the window. If I have to suddenly take off . . .”

“Okay, okay,” the inspector said, forgoing the cigarette.

At that moment his cell phone rang.

“Lieutenant Belladonna has just now gone aboard the
Ace of Hearts
,” Roberta Rollo told him.

Laura!
Matre santa
, it had never occurred to him they would stick her in the middle of this!

Why her, of all people?

“What did she say?” Gallo asked.

And what if those thugs reacted violently? What if they hurt her? What if—

“What did she say?” Gallo persisted.

“She said . . . La . . . La . . . she said Lalala . . . has boarded. What the fuck! What a stupid fucking idea!”

The inspector seemed so enraged that Gallo decided to let it drop, not daring to ask any more questions.

How on earth could they send a girl like Laura to carry out so dangerous an assignment? Were they crazy?

The cell phone rang again.

“There are five on board, two at the engines, and three on deck, but the lieutenant—”

Montalbano didn’t wait to hear any more.

“Go!” he shouted.

He yelled it so loudly that his voice made his own ears ring along with those of the other three in the car. As Gallo shot off like a rocket, he looked in the mirror: Fazio’s car was right behind, practically stuck to his bumper.

Inspector Rollo had calculated that they would need less than four minutes to get from the north entrance to the
Ace of Hearts
, but Gallo had laughed at this, saying he could get there in less than half the time. But Rollo had also decided that, to avoid arousing suspicion, the normal traffic in the port should be allowed to continue.

As a result, no sooner did Montalbano’s car fly out from the alleyway in which it was hidden and come to the north entrance, than it found its path blocked by a tractor-trailer.

The driver was out of the cab, showing his card to the Customs guard.

Montalbano was blind with terror and rage.

In the twinkling of an eye, and cursing all the while, he opened the car door, jumped out, and, taking the pedestrian crossing, started running towards the
Ace of Hearts
.

And at once he saw, in the distance, something he wished he hadn’t seen.

One of the cruiser’s sailors had just lifted the mooring cable from the bollard and was climbing back on board. And was the dull, incessant thumping he heard his own blood or was it the rumble of the
Ace of Hearts
’ powerful engines?

He sped up as much as he could, feeling a sharp pain in his side.

Without knowing how he got there, he found himself at the top of the gangway that had been left attached to the wharf, with the deck of the cruiser at the same level as him but already a good two feet away. They were escaping.

He closed his eyes and jumped.

He realized he had his gun in his hand, though he couldn’t remember when he had taken it out of his pocket. He was acting purely on instinct.

He landed on the aft deck, entirely out in the open. The first shot they fired from the cabin whizzed by his head. He reacted by firing two shots blindly, come what may, in the general direction of the wheelhouse, as he ran and hid behind a large spool of cable that was pretty useless as a shield.

Then he realized he was very close to the hatch leading below decks.

He had to get there. They were still firing at him from the cabin, but as the cruiser rapidly gained speed, it danced about on the water, making it hard for them to take aim.

Then, after firing three rapid shots in a row, the inspector took another great leap and ended up rolling down the steps of the little staircase leading below.

As he picked himself up, he froze.

There before him, back against a wall, was Laura, staring at him in silence, eyes popping in terror.

What was she doing still on board?

For a moment he drowned in the blue of her eyes.

That brief moment sufficed to allow the man behind him to stick the barrel of a revolver into the middle of his back.

“Make a move and I’ll kill you,” said a voice with a slight French accent.

It must be Petit, Zigami’s secretary. Who was not, however, aware of just how much desperate courage Laura’s eyes had inspired in Montalbano.

Without his body showing the slightest sign of turning, the inspector’s left foot rose as if by its own will with animal speed and forcefully, ferociously struck the Frenchman square in the balls, making him double over, groaning and dropping his weapon. Just to be sure, Montalbano dealt him another swift kick square in the face. Petit collapsed.

Then in a single bound Montalbano was beside Laura and pushed her by the shoulders as far as the little staircase. He bent down and grabbed the Frenchman’s pistol. Now he could fire away without needing to save any shots.

“I’m going to go up to the top of the stairs and start firing at the wheelhouse. When you hear the first shot, run across the deck and jump into the water. But from the side of the boat, to avoid the propellors. Got that?”

She nodded yes. Then, making a great effort to speak, she asked:

“What about you?”

“I’ll jump in after you. Here I go.”

But then she laid her hand on his arm. And Montalbano understood. He leaned forward and kissed her, ever so lightly, on the lips.

He crawled up the six stairs and started firing. Laura streaked by him and disappeared. But they were returning his fire from the cabin and there wasn’t a second to lose.

He stood up and, jumping like a kangaroo across the deck, reached the ship’s side, stepped over it, and plunged into the water.

At once he realized that Laura was nowhere in sight. At the high speed the cruiser had reached, the few seconds between one jump and the next had sufficed to put a great distance between the two of them.

On top of everything else, night had fallen. Taking his bearings, however, from the lights he could see in the distance, he realized he was right in the middle of the harbor.

Letting go of the pistols, which he no longer needed, he took off his jacket and shoes and started swimming against the foaming wake the cruiser had left behind.

He called out loudly:

“Laura! Laura!”

Silence. Why didn’t she answer? Maybe her violent landing in the water had temporarily deafened her?

He was about to call out to her again when all at once, at the mouth of the harbor, there was a tremendous burst of automatic weapons fire. It sounded like a veritable naval battle. Apparently the cruiser was trying to force its way through the Coast Guard’s blockade and reach the open sea.

Then there was a tremendous explosion and the water all around turned red, reflecting the flames of a great fire.

So much for the
Ace of Hearts
, he thought. Perhaps it had been hit in the fuel tanks.

And it was by the continually changing light of that blaze, which made the water look as if it might itself turn to flame, that Montalbano spotted Laura’s body floating, about twenty yards away, moved only by the gentle rippling of the sea.

“Oh my God, my God . . . Oh please, God . . .”

Was he praying? He didn’t know, but if he was indeed praying, it was for the first time in his life.

He swam over to her. She was floating on her back, eyes open as if watching the night’s first stars, and barely breathing, her mouth wide open.

She didn’t even realize that Montalbano was now beside her and holding her head above the water with his arm under her shoulders.

With that same hand he touched the terrible wound that had rent Laura’s flesh.

They must have hit her as she was jumping into the sea.

But the important thing was that she was still breathing, and therefore he had to bring her to shore immediately.

He went underwater, swam under her body, then resurfaced.

Now they were shoulder to shoulder, and Montalbano held her tightly against him with his left arm and started swimming with his free arm and his feet.

After less than five minutes of this, a searchlight spotted them, and at once a motorboat was rumbling beside him, motor idling low, and Fazio’s voice called out.

“You can let her go, Chief. We’ll get the lieutenant ourselves.”

Later, at the station, he changed into the clothes and shoes that Gallo had gone to fetch for him in Marinella. And he’d already guzzled half of the bottle of whisky that he’d had Catarella buy for him, before Roberta Rollo came in, happy and triumphant.

Congratulations, Inspector. Thanks to your courage . . .

Everyone on the
Ace of Hearts
died in the explosion.

Why hadn’t they let him get into the ambulance with Laura?