Cosi Fan Tutti

XXV

'It's fake, of course.'

'Has to be.'

'Odd name to choose. Doesn't even sound Italian.'

'Same initials, though/ 'They often give themselves away like that. Remember Vito Gentile? Constructed an entirely false personality for himself after he bust out of Procida. There were only two things he couldn't bring himself to change, the village where he was born and his mother's maiden name. And that's how they got him.'

The scene was a Vini e Cucina on a side-street just north of Via Tribunali: tiled walls, a cheap electric clock, large framed photograph of a dead relative, light filtering in from a net-curtained window high up on one end wall.

Below, as in the depths of a drained swimming pool, a counter supported three wooden wine barrels with the price per litre chalked on the end. Beyond a serving hatch knocked through to the tiny kitchen area, plates were drying and tempers flaring.

Gesualdo and Sabarino sat at one of the two long tables, the remains of a snack between them. The only other customer was an elderly drunk with long greasy hair and huge sideburns, wearing a seemingly infinite number of clothing layers wrapped up in a luxurious and apparently new overcoat. Before him was a glass of white wine, an empty half-litre flask and a collection of cigarette butts from which he was removing and recycling the tobacco in a rolling paper.

'Pure mohair, dutto! he called hoarsely, catching Gesualdo eyeing his coat. 'The new autumn line from Versace.'

'OK, so what have we got?' mused Sabatino rhetorically.

'Alfonso Zembla, supposedly some sort of civil servant, although we have no proof of that, is carrying fake identification enabling him to pass himself off as a high ranking cop.'

'In the shops, a garment like this would cost at least two hundred thousand, maybe three,' said the drunk, finishing his glass of wine. 'And that's if you can get a discount.'

'Plus he went to a lot of time and trouble getting us to agree to stay at his house,' observed Gesualdo. 'We've assumed all along that he was telling the truth about that, and that he had no interest in us or any idea who we are.

Maybe we were wrong about that. Maybe this whole thing is just a cover.'

'Certainly not, duttdV said the drunk. 'Just a cover, indeed. You might as well say that a Bugatti is just a car.

This is not a coat, it's a style statement!'

'A cover for what?' asked Sabatino with a look which was suddenly alert.

'It's warm but it's light, it's chic but sensible, a timeless classic that perfectly complements any ensemble which may grace your wardrobe now or in the future/ the drunk rhapsodized to the empty restaurant. 'And as for the price…'

'That's what worries me,' Gesualdo told Sabatino.

"I believe you, dutto Two hundred thousand, you're thinking, maybe more. Brand new, never worn except by yours truly, which doesn't count because technically speaking I'm not wearing it but modelling it. Your worries are quite understandable, yet unfounded, because today only the price on this garment has been slashed to ninety thousand HreY 'If he was aiming to pass himself off as a Vice-Questore, it must be something pretty serious/ Sabatino remarked.

Gesualdo nodded.

'And he must have connections, too. Whoever did that ID was a real pro. If we weren't in the business ourselves, I don't think I'd have spotted it for a fake/ 'A fake?' retorted the drunk indignantly. 'This is no fake, duttb. This is an authentic verified copy of a Versace original made right here in Naples by one of the best sweat-shops! It's no fake, but at eighty thousand there's no question that it's a steal/ 'In short/ said Gesualdo, "I think we need to find out a little more about Don Alfonso Zembla, a.k.a. "Aurelio Zen".'

'We might start listening in to his phone calls for a start/ suggested Sabatino.

'Why not? I'll get Gioacchino on it right away. We'll need to get his number, but I can get that out of the Squillace woman by pretending to be someone else. Speaking of which, Orestina called me this afternoon. I told her I was thinking of going over.'

Sabatino frowned and shook his head.

'Going over where?'

'To London/ 'A waste of time, duttb, with all due respect/ the drunk declaimed, triumphantly lighting his completed cigarette.

'London, Tokyo, Paris, New York — there's nothing you can find there you can't get cheaper right here. But if you're thinking of an English look, I'll throw in a nice Burberry scarf, pure lambswool. Seventy thousand the package, and no packing, no language problems, no delays at the airport/ Gesualdo leant forward across the table and looked into Sabatino's eyes.

'If I tell you something, will you swear never to tell another soul, on your mother's grave?'

'Make him swear by something else, duttb/ the drunk advised. 'Mothers don't have the clout they used to/ Sabatino gazed wide-eyed at his partner.

'What is it, Gesua?'

Gesualdo looked down at the tabletop.

'I'm in love/ he murmured. 'And not just with Orestina.'

'Guglielmo, more wine!' yelled the drunk. 'Oh, Guglie!'

Sabatino's smile gained a little edge.

'You mean you've fallen for Iolanda?' "I admit I'm attracted to her/ Gesualdo replied stiffly, as though already regretting this confidence. 'But that isn't going to change anything. I have a commitment to Orestina and I intend to honour it. This is more than a personal issue, it's a political decision. If there's to be any hope for this country, we've got to start accepting our responsibilities and keeping our promises. That's the only way to build a new Italy/ 'You sound like a spokesman for Strade Pulite/ Sabatino observed with a trace of malice.

'Personally I'm for the Fascists or whatever they're calling themselves these days/ the drunk interjected. 'But the main thing is to get someone in there who can get things done. To take a simple example, if you have the chance to pick up a fabulous Versace lookalike today at a knockdown sixty thousand lire, you don't want it next month at a hundred, am I right?'

'It's a question of principle/ Gesualdo replied primly.

'Whatever happens, I am not going to deceive Orestina.

No matter how much I may be tempted, I'll always be able to control myself.'

'You won't be able to do a damn thing,' said Sabatino with a cynical smile. 'But what's the big deal, anyhow? I love Filomena just as much as you love Orestina, and I can't wait to see her when she gets back. But in the meantime I aim to enjoy myself/ 'Just be sure you inspect the merchandise carefully before taking delivery,' the drunk intoned. 'Not everything is what it seems at first sight, particularly here in Naples.'

'What do you mean by that?' demanded Gesualdo.

Sabatino shrugged.

"I gave Libera the key to my place in Mergellina. We're meeting there this evening.'

'What?'

'Why not? There's no way Filomena will ever find out.

It's as if it never happened/ Gesualdo looked at him for some time in silence, then sniffed loudly.

'Well, that's your business.'

The street door opened and a young man appeared. All conversation immediately ceased. The intruder walked to the centre of the room, looking about him in a pleasant, dopey way.

'Vino?' he said tentatively, waving a 50,000-lire note.

The drunk perked up at once.

'You want to drink?' he said in English. 'Maybe eat something? Sit down! Later I tell you of the war. Oh, Guglie! Addb cazzo staje? Puortace 'n'ato litro 'e chellu bbuono, pecche cca ce sta 'n'amico mije ca e arrivate mo' dalVAmerica ca se sta murenne 'e setel'