Valerio Manfredi: The Ancient Curse

‘Well, before he died, Montanari told me that after they’d found the slab something changed in her, turned her into a harpy. That she became unrecognizable at times. You have to admit there’s something disturbing about her.’

‘There’s no doubt about that,’ he said, as his attention was attracted by the noise outside. ‘Listen to the racket those journalists are making out there. I’m here with six cadavers on my back and I still don’t have a clue. What do I tell the Secretary? The werewolf story?’

‘The Secretary?’

Reggiani rolled his head and sighed. ‘Ah, yes. The Home Secretary will be paying me a visit tonight, along with our Commander General. Both sure to be in a foul mood. You know what that means, right?’

Fabrizio looked at his watch. ‘That in four hours you’ll be sending out your shooting party.’

‘Let’s say two, as soon as it gets dark. Unfortunately, the situation has changed radically. And you can be sure we’ll be hearing the beast’s howl tonight as well. But this will be the last night, I’ll promise you that.’

Fabrizio paled. ‘But wait, you promised-’

‘I’m sorry, my friend, but this can’t wait. The lives of too many people are at risk.’

‘Listen, just give me another hour, two at the most. I have to figure out what the last part of the inscription says… There’s a… How can I get this across?… You’ll be putting the whole city in dire danger. It could be a disaster…’

‘Mediums… dire danger… Sounds like your brains are fried, my friend.’ He took his pistol out of the drawer and drew back the bolt to load it. ‘You want to know what I believe in? This.’

‘What’s going to happen?’

‘My men are stationed at the exit to the old cistern. We’ve cleared the area for half a kilometre all around. As soon as the creature shows up, we’ll unleash hell. Whatever it is, there won’t be a hair left of it. I’m sorry, Fabrizio. I have to go now. I had you come in here because I wanted you to know how we were proceeding, and I wanted you to hear Ambra Reiter’s story with your own ears. I felt I owed it to you.’

‘You’re crazy,’ said Fabrizio. ‘It’s going to be a massacre.’

Reggiani didn’t answer. Fabrizio watched as he pushed his way through the crowd of journalists waiting in the front hall.

The lieutenant then went into the locker room, took off his uniform and put on his combat gear.

FABRIZIO MET the press himself shortly afterwards. Special correspondents and TV reporters thrust their microphones at him, figuring he must be involved somehow with the story.

Those crowding in behind the first row asked, ‘Who’s this guy? Was he with Reggiani? Does he know something?’

Others provided partial answers: ‘He’s an archaeologist… Someone said he’s an archaeologist. There’s got to be some connection…’

Then one said, ‘His name’s Castellani. Dr Castellani, a question, just one question, what were you doing with the lieutenant? What did he tell you? Is it true a woman has been arrested? Please, give us a hand here!’

Fabrizio shoved his way through, ignoring the insults and abuse hurled his way, especially from the notoriously rude Italian TV operators from Rome, and began to run down the city streets, trying to lose them in the maze of the city centre. He reached the museum and saw Mario at the security guard’s booth.

‘Dr Castellani! The director has been looking for you all week! Where have you been?’

‘I can’t just now, Mario. Please tell the director I’ll report to him as soon as possible. Is Dr Vitali here?’

‘No. She left half an hour ago but didn’t say where she was going.’

Fabrizio nodded. He swiftly made his way to the taxi stand in the nearby square and hailed the first cab he could find.

‘Take me to the Semprini farm, as quickly as you can.’

‘The place in Val d’Era?’

‘Yes. I’ll tell you the best way to get there.’

The taxi set off and Fabrizio phoned home. No answer. He tried Francesca’s mobile but it was off. Anxiety welled up inside him like a black tide, crushing him back into his seat. The regional road, then left, Val d’Era and then the track.

When the cab stopped outside the front door, Fabrizio had the fare ready. ‘Keep the change,’ he said, and jumped out. The taxi backed up and drove off.

The house was deserted, but the computer was still on, with the translation of the last part of the inscription. He noticed the handwritten note that Francesca had left for him and his heart plummeted. He feverishly dialled Reggiani’s mobile number and listened as it rang one, two, three times, his teeth clenched as he spoke aloud: ‘Answer, goddamn it, pick it up-’

‘Where are you?’ asked the lieutenant curtly at the fourth ring.

‘At home. Marcello, for the love of God, listen to me. Francesca’s down there.’

‘Down where?’

‘In the palace, underground.’

‘What the hell… Is she crazy?’

‘She translated the last part of the inscription and I think… I think that…’

‘What! Talk! You know my minutes are counted!’

‘I think that she believes… that she believes in the words of the inscription. She thinks she can stop disaster from happening. It’s too long a story to explain it all now, but do you have a flame-thrower?’

‘A flame-thrower? You’ve lost it, Fabrizio. What do you want with a flame-thrower? That’s an assault weapon, used by the special forces. I’d have to ask the ROS guys.’

‘Shit, Marcello, you are an ROS guy! You must have a flamethrower.’

‘I’m no longer operative, and even if I wanted to get one, there just isn’t time enough. Listen, don’t screw things up here. I’m about to launch the operation. Do not interfere, Fabrizio. Do you hear what I’m saying? You’d risk fucking up the whole thing, putting your own life at risk and Francesca’s as well. Wherever you are, go back to headquarters and do not move from there until it’s all over. We will find Francesca, understand? We will find her. You-’

The line went dead and whatever he had meant to say was cut short. Fabrizio immediately dialled Sonia’s number.

‘Hi there, handsome,’ said her voice. The connection was scratchy.

Fabrizio tried to keep calm and speak in a normal tone of voice. ‘Sonia, where are you?’

‘You said you wanted me out of your hair and I took the hint.’

‘Where are you?’ he repeated in an even, if not calm, tone.

‘I’ve just turned on to the regional road for Colle Val d’Elsa. Hey, what’s up? You sound funny.’

‘Sonia, stop as soon as you can when you see the signal is good. I have to be able to hear you clearly. First of all, I need to know if you’ve finished your work.’

The line was stronger now; Sonia must have found a place to stop.

‘Yeah, right, I told you I had. Why?’

‘What I need to know is if all the animal’s bones have been separated from the human bones. All of them, to the very last fragment. Do you understand what I’m asking?’

‘What kind of a question is that? No, obviously not. How can I tell whether all those remaining fragments are human or not? Probably some of the dog’s bones were chipped as well. You’d need a very close analysis. I’d have to take it to a lab… Why do you care? The skeleton looks great, so who cares about a few fragments? But now that you’re asking, maybe there are a few pieces missing. How can I be sure? First of all you scare me to death and tell me to get out of here as soon as I can, and then you tell me I should have used a microscope to finish the job. I can’t figure you out, Fabrizio. I just don’t get why you’re putting me on the spot like this.’