The Girl of his Dreams

11

The next day, Brunetti had barely seated himself at his desk when he received a call from Signorina Elettra, newly returned from Abano, who informed him that the Vice-Questore, himself just back from the crime seminar in Berlin, wanted to have a few words with him. This phrase, 'have a few words with him', struck an odd note: its measured neutrality had none of Patta's usual aggressive bluster, nor did it reflect the patent falsity of Patta's amiability when he felt himself in need of a favour.

Curiosity led Brunetti downstairs and into Signorina Elettra's office. He saw immediately that something was different, but it took him a moment to realize what it was: on her desk, where he had grown accustomed to seeing the large console of her computer, he saw only a thin black screen. The keyboard, bulky and grey, had been replaced by a sleek black rectangle on which flat keys did their best to look invisible.

Signorina Elettra's ensemble for the day of her return complemented the keyboard: a black and grey patterned sweater that he recalled Paola's calling to his attention in Loro Piana's window a week before, and black trousers below which lurked the tips of a pair of black patent leather pumps that were half shoe, half rapier.

'Do you have any idea of just which words he wants to have with me?' Brunetti asked by way of greeting.

Signorina Elettra pulled her attention away from the screen. As Brunetti watched, her smile dissolved and was replaced by a stiff-faced look of great attentiveness. ‘I believe the Vice-Questore has taken an interest in the subject of multi-cultural sensitivity, sir,' she explained, choosing to use the English phrase.

'Berlin?' Brunetti asked.

'From the notes the Vice-Questore has given me for his report to the Questore about the conference, I am led to that conclusion.'

'"Multi-cultural sensitivity"?'

'Indeed.'

'Does that have a meaning in Italian?' Brunetti enquired.

She reached absently for a pencil, which she held by the tip, tapping the eraser against a sheet of paper on her desk. 'From the notes he gave me, I suspect it means that there will be some new directives issued concerning the behaviour of officers in situations involving extra-comunitari.'

'All foreigners or just extra-comunitari?' Brunetti asked. 'No, not Europeans or Americans, sir. I think the expressions formerly used were "Third World", or poor.

'Now replaced by "extracomunitari"

'Exactly.'

‘I see,' Brunetti said, wondering if the piece of paper beneath the eraser was part of Patta's report. 'Is there a precise form that this sensitivity is meant to take?'

'I think it concerns the way the arresting officer is supposed to speak to the person he's arresting, sir’ she said blandly.

'Ah’ Brunetti returned, his question disguised as a noise.

'It seems the current philosophy’ she began, placing an unduly heavy emphasis on that word, as if she were posting it on a wall, the better to take a few shots at it, 'is that the members of minority groups are the victims of a stance of -' She broke off and pulled the sheet of paper forward. 'Ah yes, here it is’ she continued, using the eraser to point at the centre of the page. "'… a stance of undue verbal aggression on the part of the arresting officers’" she finished.

'What's a verbal stance?' Brunetti asked.

'Well might you ask, sir’ she said then leaned forward to consult the paper again. "'The damage caused by the memory of suppression is such that even those who have no active memory of that suppression carry the damage of such treatment in their psychic vocabulary, and thus any reintroduction of oppressive behaviour is bound to damage their sense of self-worth, especially in cases where that self-worth is tied to tribal, religious, racial, or cultural traditions.'"

She glanced up. 'Shall I go on, sir?'

'If you think there's any sense in it, please do,' Brunetti said.

'I'm not sure that there is, but there's at least one paragraph you might find interesting.'

'I am attention itself’ Brunetti said.

She lifted the page aside and ran the eraser down the one below it. 'Ah, yes’ she said. "'Because of the ongoing ethnic and cultural enrichment of our society, it is now doubly important that the forces of order accept with tolerance and patience the cultural diversity of our newest residents. Only by a policy of broadminded acceptance of cultural multiplicity can we demonstrate the sincerity of our willingness to welcome those who have chosen to seek their future among us.'" She looked up and smiled.

'Are you able to translate that?' he asked.

'Well’ she began, 'I've seen all of his notes, so I know how it continues. But I think what it really means is that it's soon going to become even more difficult to arrest extra-comunitari.'

The frankness and clarity of her explanation, two qualities absent from most of the documents that crossed Brunetti's desk, momentarily stunned him. ‘I see’ he said. ‘Is he in?' he asked, nodding towards Patta's office, though it was, given her recent phone call, hardly necessary to enquire.

'In and waiting,' Signorina Elettra answered, giving no sign of contrition that she had delayed Brunetti from answering his superior's summons.

Brunetti knocked on the door and entered at the sound of Patta's voice. The Vice-Questore sat behind his desk, his pose so monumental that he seemed to have been sculpted there. 'Ah, good morning, Commissario’ Patta said. 'Please, have a seat.'

Seeing that there were some papers in front of Patta, Brunetti chose the chair closest to his desk. Patta had addressed him by his rank: this could be a good thing because of its suggestion of respect; it could just as easily be a bad thing because of its implication of inferior position. Patta's expression seemed cordial enough, though from past experience Brunetti knew this was meaningless: vipers liked to bask on rocks in the sunshine, did they not?

'Did you have a profitable time at the conference, Dottore?' Brunetti asked.

'Ah, yes, Brunetti,' Patta said, sitting back in his chair and extending his legs to cross his ankles. 'Yes, I did. It's a good thing to get out of the office every so often and get in touch with our colleagues from other countries. Get an idea of how they look at things, what their problems are.'

'Were there many interesting presentations?' Brunetti asked, for want of anything else to say.

'It's not the presentations where you learn things, Brunetti: it's from talking to your colleagues in private, listening to what they have to say about what's actually happening in their countries, on the streets’ This said, Patta appeared to grow even more expansive. 'That's how you learn what's going on. Networking, Brunetti: that's the secret. Networking.'

Brunetti knew that Patta spoke Italian and a particularly impenetrable Palermitano dialect; after that he had a smattering of English words, as well as the odd French phrase, especially those related to food. Beyond that, however, Brunetti was at a loss to understand in what language his superior's networking might have been conducted.

'Indeed, sir. I understand’ Brunetti answered, curious to see where Patta's amiability was going to lead. In the past, it had usually led to ambitious new projects that would produce statistical evidence of increased efficiency on the part of the police.

‘I don't have to remind you’ Patta said, his voice leaking affability, 'how important it is that we expand our concern with sectoral issues here.' Brunetti's sensors began to quiver at the sound of 'sectoral issues', which Patta pronounced in something resembling English. 'We need an innovative approach to issues of acculturation, and we have to develop a hands-on methodology that will allow us to implement effective methods of taking our message to the broader community.'

Brunetti nodded and then took his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, a gesture he had observed actors use in films when they wanted to give evidence of deep thought. The gesture, however, seemed not to suffice, for Patta kept his eyes pn him and did not resume speaking. Brunetti measured out a very thoughtful, 'Uh-huh.'

This apparently was enough. 'In order to implement this, I'm going to establish a task force to deal with these issues’ Patta declared.

It was natural enough for Brunetti to leap from films to books: he found himself recalling one of the final scenes in 1984, where Winston Smith screams, in order to spare himself from the final horror, 'Do it to Julia, do it to Julia!' At the thought of being named for this task force, Brunetti too would have fallen to his knees and pleaded, 'Do it to Vianello, do it to Vianello’ had Patta not resumed. 'In this case, I think it's necessary for us to respond in a truly innovative fashion, and so I've decided to appoint someone from the ranks to head this new unit. We need a man who has been on the force for some time and who best represents the city.' Brunetti nodded in full agreement.

'Alvise’ the Vice-Questore proceeded, gazing off at the middle distance, as if seeing the realization of this innovative project, 'fills both of these requirements’ Patta brought his gaze back to Brunetti, who had by then managed to wipe all trace of astonishment from his face. 'As I'm sure you agree, Commissario’

'Indeed, he does,' Brunetti said, making no reference to intelligence, nor yet to common sense.

'Good’ Patta said with what sounded like real satisfaction, I'm glad to hear you agree with me.' So pleased was the Vice-Questore with Brunetti's apparent assent that he failed to add the 'for once’ which Brunetti expected.

'It will, of course, require that Officer Alvise be relieved of his normal duties’ Patta went on, then asked, in a rare moment of camaraderie, 'Do you think he'll need a separate office?'

Brunetti tried to give the appearance of thought, then replied, 'No, Vice-Questore. I think Officer Alvise would prefer to remain with his colleagues.' As if the Vice-Questore was sure to agree, Brunetti added, 'That way, he can profit from their input.'

'I'd thought of that, of course. He's a team player, Alvise, isn't he?' Patta asked.

Brunetti said, 'Yes, he is’ trying to work out where on earth Patta could possibly have got Alvise's name. Why, of all the officers at the Questura, would he have chosen Alvise for this job? Indeed, for any job?

'Has he come highly recommended?' Brunetti asked with real curiosity.

'Yes’ Patta answered. 'The Lieutenant – who will be his overseeing officer in this – thought he would be the ideal choice.'

The mention of Lieutenant Scarpa – for Patta would speak of no other lieutenant with the same easy familiarity – made Brunetti instantly wonder why the Lieutenant wanted to be in command of a dunce like Alvise, but then he realized he had no idea what the project was or, indeed, whether its failure might be the Lieutenant's objective. 'Will the task force be a European project?' he asked.

'Of course,' Patta said. "These are expansive ideas, expansive projects. It's time this sleepy city joined the rest of Europe, don't you think?'

'Without question,' Brunetti answered with his best smile, remembering a poet who had once said that it was a good thing the causeway existed, or Europe would have been isolated. 'So the funding will be European?' he asked.

'Yes,' Patta said, not without pride. 'It was one of the prizes I was able to bring home from the conference.' He glanced across at Brunetti, eager for his approval.

This time Brunetti's smile was a real one, the sort that comes with having solved a problem. European money, governmental funds, the golden shower from the coffers of a generous and prodigiously uninterested Brussels, the careless largesse of bureaucrats.

'How very clever,' Brunetti said, in acknowledgement of the Lieutenant's skill. 'And I've no doubt Alvise will turn out to have been the perfect choice.'

Patta's smile, if possible, broadened. 'I'll be sure to tell the Lieutenant you said that,' the Vice-Questore said.

Brunetti's smile could not have been more gracious had it been genuine.