‘I see that you’re still enjoying life in Cosenza,’ he said.
By now, Tom had recognised the intruder as the local police chief.
‘Very much!’ he returned. ‘How about you?’
A moment later, he realised that the beer had been talking, but the other man appeared unfazed by the impertinence.
‘I never feel at home in a city where you can’t smell the sea,’ he replied. ‘I shall need to see you at the Questura tomorrow morning. How early can you be there?’
After a brief discussion as to times, Tom introduced Martin Nguyen, who had been listening to this exchange with some interest.
‘Tell the signore that I wish to speak to him too,’ said the man, before leaving them with a curt nod.
‘Who was that guy?’ demanded Martin Nguyen.
‘The chief of police. He wants us both to meet with him tomorrow morning.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. To discuss the latest developments in my dad’s kidnapping, maybe.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then why didn’t you ask him?’
Tom bent forward with a slightly condescending look.
‘Mr Nguyen, this is not the States. The police here are more like Homeland Security than your friendly local sheriff who’s going to be running for re-election come the fall and needs your vote. If they want to tell you something, they will. If they don’t, there’s no point in asking.’
Nguyen was unappeased.
‘But what have I got to do with it?’
‘I told him you were a business associate of my dad’s. I guess he thinks you have information about what he was doing here that might be significant.’
Martin Nguyen nodded vaguely.
‘So you speak pretty good Italian, huh?’
Tom shrugged.
‘My mom used to talk to me in Italian and it seems to be coming back. It’s not that hard of a language once you know the basic rules. All I really need is more vocabulary, and I’m picking that up pretty fast.’
Nguyen digested this in silence for some moments.
‘Well, I can offer you a job right here and now,’ he finally said. ‘It’s only temporary, for as long as I have to stay here, but I’ll pay five hundred dollars a day in cash.’
‘To do what?’
‘Act as my translator and general assistant.’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Tom said doubtfully. ‘Pretty much the only thing I can think about right now is my dad, you know?’
‘Okay, how about five hundred euros? That’s over six hundred bucks at current exchange rates.’
Tom thought about this proposition for at least a couple of seconds. After Dawn did a fugue back to her mother in Idaho, citing irreconcilable differences and environmental issues, he discovered that her rosy fingers had previously used his cash card, whose PIN Tom had given her when he was too slammed to go to the machine, to remove all the money in his bank account. He’d had to leverage his Visa credit limit just to get here, but that wouldn’t last for ever and there was no way of knowing how long he’d have to stay. He looked at Nguyen with what he hoped was the expression of a dutiful and disturbed son in a difficult situation.
‘Gee, I don’t know what to say! I could sure use the money, but it might look bad, you know? I mean, profiting from my father’s ordeal.’
‘Who’s to know? You’ll be paid in cash, either here or back in the States, whichever you prefer. And if someone does find out, so what? You were just helping out a family friend in a tough spot.’
Tom sighed deeply.
‘Well, okay, I guess. Plus it might help take my mind off this nightmare.’
‘But for that kind of money I expect you to be on call twenty-four seven, okay? I can’t tell when something might come up where I need you. In fact, tomorrow you’d better move to the hotel where I’m staying. I’ll comp you the room and all meals.’
He glanced at the tab and threw some money on the table.
‘Okay, I’ll be heading back. Don’t stay up too late eyeballing the brood mares. We’ve got to make an early start. I’ll pick you up around four-thirty, quarter to five.’
For the first time, Tom felt genuinely dismayed by Nguyen’s job proposition.
‘Heck, it’ll hardly be light then!’
‘We’re headed for a facility where the shift starts at six, and I need to brief the personnel. Some of them speak English, some of them don’t.’
He broke off and stared at Tom.
‘How much did your dad tell you about what we’re doing here?’
‘Practically nothing. He never talked about his work.’
Or about anything else, he thought. My dad never talked to me. My dad never spoke Italian to me.
‘Okay, I’ll fill you in tomorrow,’ said Nguyen. ‘Be sure and get a good night’s rest. I want you on deck and ready to roll when my car pulls up at your hotel.’
‘Hell, you’re the one who should worry about that, Mr Nguyen! Getting in from the States today and all. That jet-lag can kill you.’
From one of the many secret drawers artfully concealed in the lacquered cabinet of his skull, Martin Nguyen produced a lush smile of poisonous beauty.
‘I’ve given up sleeping. My doctor said it was bad for me.’
Nicola Mantega was not a particularly stupid or careless man. His fatal weakness was that he was a creature of habit.