The Patience of the Spider (9 page)

No, hes no disturbance. Put him on.

Hi, Salvo, its Nicolorry to interrupt, but I wanted to
tell you I just came into my office

What the hell do I care what your work hours are? Tell it
to your employer.
No, Salvo, this is serious. I just got in and my secretary
told me that ...well, itsabout that girl who waskidnapped.

Okay, tell me what she said.

No, Id rather you came here.

Ill drop by as soon as I can.

No, right now.

Montalbano hung up, stood up, and shook Francescos hand.

The Free Channel, the private television station where NicolZito worked, had their studios in an outlying district of Montelusa.
As he was driving there in his car, the inspector tried to
guess what could have happened that would make his journalist
friend so anxious to tell him about it. And he guessed right.
Nicols waiting for him at the entrance to the building,
and as soon as he saw Montalbanos car pull up, he went out to
greet him. He looked upset.

What is it?

This morning, right after the secretary came in to work,
there was an anonymous phone call. A man asked her if we
had the equipment to record a telephone call and she said yes.
He told her to get it all ready, because he was going to call
back in five minutes. Which he did.

They went into Nicoloffice. On his desk was a
portable but professional-looking tape recorder. The journalist
turned it on. As hed anticipated, Montalbano heard the exact
same recording hed heard at the Mistretta home, not one
word more or less.

Its scary. That poor girl . . . said Zito.
Then he asked:
Did the Mistrettas get this call? Or do the bastards want

us to act as go-betweens?
They called late last night.
Zito breathed a sigh of relief.
Well, Im glad for that. But then why did they also send

it to us?

Ive got a very good idea why, said Montalbano. The
kidnappers want everyone, not just the father, to know that
the girl is in their hands. Normally a kidnapper has everything
to gain from silence. These guys, however, are doing everything
under the sun to make noise. They want the sound of
Susanna begging for help to scare as many people as possible.

Why?
Thats the big question.
So what do I do now?
If you want to play their game, then broadcast the phone

call.
Its not my job to help criminals.
Good for you! Ill make sure to carve those noble words

on your tombstone.
Youre such an asshole, said Zito, grabbing his crotch.
Well, then, since youve declared yourself an honorable

journalist, youll call the judge and the commissioner, tell

them about the recording, and make it available to them.
Thats what Ill do.
Youd better do it right away.
You in some kind of hurry? asked Zito as he was dial

ing the commissioners office.

Montalbano didnt answer.

Ill wait for you outside, he said, getting up and going
out.

It was a truly gentle morning, with a light, delicate wind
blowing. The inspector fired up a cigarette but didnt have
time to finish it before the newsman came out.

Done.

What did they tell you?

Not to broadcast anything at all. Theyre sending an officer
to come pick up the cassette.

Shall we go back inside? asked the inspector.

You want to keep me company?

No, I want to see something.

When they entered the office, Montalbano told Nicol
turn on the television and tune in to TeleVig.

What do you want to hear from those assholes?

Just wait and youll understand why I was in such a
hurry for you to call the commissioner.

At the bottom of the screen appeared the words:

special edition of televig news, coming right up.

Shit! said NicolThey called them, too! And those
sleazeballs are going to broadcast it!

Isnt that what you expected?

No. And you made me lose the scoop!

You want to turn back now? Make up your mind: Are
you an honest or a dishonest journalist?

Im honest, all right, but losing a scoop of ones own free
will really hurts!

The scroll with the announcement disappeared, and the
TeleVig News logo came onto the screen. Then, without

any introduction, Mr. Mistrettas face appeared. It was a replay
of the appeal hed already made the day after the kidnapping.
Then a newsman appeared.

We rebroadcast the plea of Susannas father for a specific
reason. Now, please listen to the chilling document that was
called in to our studios this morning.

Against a backdrop of the Mistretta villa, one heard the
exact same telephone call that was made to the Free Channel.
Then they cut to the prune face of Pippo Ragonese.

Let me say straight off that here at TeleVig, the editorial
staff was terribly torn over whether to broadcast the
phone call wed just received. The anguished and anguishing
voice of Susanna Mistretta is not something our consciences
can easily bear hearing, living as we do in a civilized society.
But your right to the news prevailed. The publics right to
know is sacrosanct, and it is our sacrosanct duty as journalists
to respect this right. Otherwise we could no longer proudly
call ourselves journalists in the public service. We chose to rebroadcast
the girls fathers desperate appeal before letting you
hear that telephone call. The kidnappers do not realize, or do
not want to realize, that their ransom demand can only come
to nothing, given the well-known financial straits of the Mistretta
family. In this tragic stalemate, our hope resides in the
forces of order, particularly in Inspector Minutolo, a man of
vast experience, whom we fervently wish a prompt success.

The first newsman reappeared and said:

This special edition will be rebroadcast every hour.

Partys over, time to go home.

A rock music program began.

Montalbano never stopped marveling at the people who

worked in television. For example, they show you images of
an earthquake with thousands of victims, whole towns swallowed
up, small children wounded and crying, bits of human
corpses, and then right afterwards they say: And now a few
beautiful shots of Carnival in Rio. Colorful floats, happy
faces, sambas, asses.

The bastard and son of a bitch! said Zito, turning red in
the face and kicking a chair.

Wait, Ill fix him, said Montalbano.

He quickly dialed a number and then waited a few minutes,
the receiver glued to his ear.

Hello? Montalbano here. The commissioner, please. Yes,
thank you. Yes, Ill remain on the line. Yes. Mr. Commissioner?
Good day. Sorry to bother you, but Im calling from
the offices of the Free Channel. Yes, I know that Nicolto
just called you. Of course, hes a responsible citizen and was
only doing his duty ...He set aside his interests as a journalist
and...Of course, Ill tell him...Well, what I wanted to
say, sir, was that as I was sitting here, another anonymous call
came in.

Nicoloked at him, flabbergasted, shaking his hand at
him, a cacocciola, as if to say: What the hell?

The same voice as before, Montalbano continued, still
on the phone, told him to get ready to record. Except that
when they called back five minutes later, not only was there a
bad connection and you couldnt understand a thing they said,
but the tape recorder didnt work.

What kind of bullshit are you feeding him? Nicolid
under his breath.

Yes, Mr. Commissioner, Ill remain at the scene and wait

for them to retry. Whats that you say? TeleVig has just
broadcast the phone call? Thats not possible! And they replayed
the fathers plea? No, I didnt know. But this is unheard
of! It can even be considered a crime! They should have
turned the tape over to the authorities, not broadcast it on the
air! Just as Zito did! You say the judge is looking into what
measures can be taken? Good! Excellent! Oh, sir, something
just occurred to me. Only a hunch, mind you. If they just
called back the Free Channel, they certainly must have also
called back TeleVig. And maybe TeleVig had more luck
and managed to tape the second call. ...Which of course
theyll deny having received, because theyll want to save it to
broadcast at the right moment ...A dirty game, youre absolutely
right ...Far be it from me to give you advice, sir,
what with all your expertise, but I think a thorough search of
the TeleVig offices might produce ...yes ...yes ...My
humble respects, Mr. Commissioner.

Nicoloked at him in admiration.

Youre a master showman!

Youll see, between the prosecutors machinations and
the commissioners search, they wont even have time to piss,
let alone rebroadcast their special edition!

They laughed, but then Nicolrned serious again.

To hear first the father, then the kidnappers, he said, it
sounds like a conversation between deaf people. The father
says he hasnt got a cent, and the others tell him to get the
money ready. Even if he sells his villa, how much money
could they possibly get?

Are you of the same opinion as your distinguished colleague
Pippo Ragonese?

And what would that be?

That the kidnapping is the work of inexperienced third
worlders who dont realize they have nothing to gain and
everything to lose?

Not on your life.

Maybe the kidnappers dont have a TV and havent seen
the fathers appeal.

Or maybe . . . Nicolgan but then stopped, as if in
doubt.

7

Or maybe what? Montalbano prodded.

I just had an idea, but Im embarrassed to tell you what
it is.

I promise you that no matter how stupid it is, it will
never leave this room.

Its like something out of an American movie. People in
town say that up until about five or six years ago, the Mistrettas
lived high on the hog. Then they were forced to sell everything.
Isnt it possible that the kidnapping was organized by
someone who came back to Vig after a long absence and
was therefore unaware of the Mistretta familys financial situation?

Your idea sounds to me more like something out of Totand Peppino than an American movie. Use your brains! You
cant pull off this kind of kidnapping alone, Nicolome accomplice
would surely have told your homecoming son of
Vig that Mistretta could scarcely put bread on the table! By
the way, could you tell me how the Mistrettas happened to
lose everything?

You know, I dont have the slightest idea myself? I believe
they were forced to sell everything off, all at once . . .

To sell off what?

Land, houses, stores . . .

They were forced, you say? How strange!

Whats so strange about it?

Its as though, six years ago, they urgently needed money
to pay, well, a ransom.

But there was no kidnapping six years ago.

Maybe not. Or maybe nobody knew about it.

Although the judge had taken immediate action, TeleVig
managed to broadcast a replay of the special report before the
restraining order went into effect. And this time not only all
of Vig, but the entire province of Montelusa watched and
listened, spellbound. The news had spread by word of mouth
with lightning speed. If the kidnappers intention had been to
make everyone aware of the situation, they had fully succeeded.

One hour later, in the place of another rebroadcast of the
special report, Pippo Ragonese appeared on the screen with his
eyes popping out of his head. In a hoarse voice he said he felt
duty-bound to inform everyone that at that moment the television
station was being subjected to some highly unusual harassment
that was clearly an abuse of power, an intimidation
tactic, a veritable persecution. He explained that the recording
of the kidnappers message had been confiscated by court order
and that police were presently searching the premises for something,
though nobody quite knew what. He concluded by saying
that never in a million years would the authorities succeed
in throttling the voice of free information as represented by

him and TeleVig, and that he would keep the public duly informed
of any new developments in this dire situation.

Montalbano relished all the confusion hed caused from NicolZitos office, then went back to the station. He had barely entered
when he received a call from Livia.

Hello, Salvo?
Livia! Whats wrong?
When Livia called him at the office, it usually meant that

something serious had happened.
Marta phoned me.
Marta Gianturco was the wife of an officer with the Har

bor Authority and one of Livias few friends in Vig.
So?
She told me to turn on the television immediately and

watch the special edition of TeleVig News, which I did.
Pause.
It was terrible ...that poor girl ...her voice was heart

breaking . . . she continued, after a moment.
What was there to say?
Yeah ...I know... said Montalbano, just to let her

know he was listening.
Then I heard Ragonese say you were searching his of

fices.
Well...actually . . .
Are you getting anywhere?
Were sinking fast, he wanted to say. Instead he said:
Were making progress.

Do you suspect Ragonese of having kidnapped the girl?
Livia asked ironically.
Livia, this is no time for sarcasm. I told you we were
making progress.
I hope so, Livia said stormily, in the sort of tone a low,
black cloud might have.
And she hung up.

So now Livia had taken to making insulting and threatening
phone calls. Wasnt it a bit excessive to call them threatening?
No, it was not. She was liable to prosecution, in fact. Come on,
stop being such an asshole and get over your anger. There. Are you
calm now? Yes? Then call the person you were thinking of calling and
forget about Livia.

Hello? Dr. Carlo Mistretta? Inspector Montalbano here.

Any news?

No, Im sorry to say. But Id like to have a few words
with you, Doctor.

Im terribly busy this morning. And this afternoon as
well. Ive been neglecting my patients a bit, Im afraid. Could
we do it this evening? Yes? All right, lets see, we could meet at
my brothers house around