White Death (2011) by Jones Tobias

Author:Jones, Tobias [Jones, Tobias]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery/Crime
Published: 2012-12-17T00:00:00+00:00

The first thing I did in the morning was to walk round to the offices of the city council and demand a meeting with the assessore all’urbanistica. The cool receptionist, a young man whose tie was knotted wider than his chin, said that the assessore was in meetings all day. He suggested I write a letter.

I drew my lips over my teeth to offer him a fake smile. ‘Give him this,’ I passed my usual business card, ‘and tell him that I want to see him to talk about Giulio Moroni. Giulio Moroni,’ I repeated.

The receptionist looked at the card and then back at me. He stood up and went through a glass door. He came back a few minutes later to say that someone would be with me shortly. I sat on one of the chairs and read a promotional publication about the province. There were the same people pictured in every photograph. The same local politicians in hard-hats and sashes, shaking hands with businessmen in suits. I put the magazine down and watched the councillors coming and going. It was strange seeing people who were at each other’s throats in elections walking through the foyer patting each other on the back.

Anyone who has lived here for long enough has seen it all before: opposing sides of the political spectrum ferociously criticising each other, getting hot under the collar about this and that, bringing up all sorts of allegations and innuendos. Then just as it looks as if the argument is about to get physical, harmony breaks out. A dialogue is opened, an accord or a compromise is found. And suddenly, just as quickly as it came, all that fiery rhetoric subsides and everyone realises it was all synthetic, put on for show when all along some deal was imminent anyway. It’s as if every politician is merely an actor in a little theatre, and as soon as the curtain falls and the public can’t see them any more they all slap each other on the back, tot up the takings and go out for an expensive meal.

After about half an hour a woman came into the reception. ‘Castagnetti?’

I stood up.

‘You’re waiting to see Mr D’Antoni? Come this way please.’

She led me up some stone stairs to another waiting room. I sat there for another hour.

Eventually the wooden double doors swung open and a mini entourage emerged. The two security men were wearing black suits whose sleeves looked too thin for their thick arms. They were glancing left and right as if looking for trouble. They had transparent plastic tubes running from their ears into their collars as if they were in radio contact. The assessore had thin glasses on the end of his narrow nose. His white hair looked like it had been painted on. He had a narrow, formal face but his eyelids covered up half his pupils as if he were bored by life or had something to hide. It was easy to recognise him from the huge posters that were slapped up all over the place at every election.

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