A Darkness Descending Read Online Free PDF

was unprepared for the answering flash in her eyes.
    ‘This country,’ she said. ‘You know as well as I do, those jobs will go to someone’s cousin, someone’s nephew. We might pick up the drudge work. But our community will be changed, invaded. Houses and gardens will go.’
    Sandro blinked at her certainty. ‘Maybe you should stand yourself,’ he said. ‘You’re good at this.’ But he felt unaccountably anxious for her: it wasn’t that simple, in the end. She went on staring at him.
    ‘So who’s in charge?’ He pulled the computer back towards him, and typed the words ‘Frazione Verde’ into the search engine.
    ‘There’s Rosselli.’ She chewed her lip. ‘There’s a lawyer, too. Was at college with him, I think, his name’s Bastone.’ She hesitated. ‘He was on the stage with him last night, he – well, I don’t know if he knew what was coming, but before Roselli went down, his friend put out his hand, like, to keep him steady or something.’
    She took a breath: Sandro scrutinized her, holding his peace.
    ‘So he’s literally the right-hand man. Otherwise, it’s all very – makeshift still. There’s Rosselli’s wife, of course. She used to be the kind of secretary, taking the minutes, administration, only she’s taken a step back since – are you listening?’
    A gaudy page had come up, bright green and ill-designed. Giuli leaned down, beaming. ‘That’s Enzo,’ she said. Sandro frowned: he could only see the same shot of Rosselli that the newspaper had used. ‘I mean, Enzo designed their webpage,’ she said shyly. ‘Democratic, you see.’
    Sandro had to restrain himself from shaking his head at the limitations of democracy. ‘I didn’t know he was a web designer,’ was all he said, mildly. Knowing quite well that in fact Enzo was a computer engineer and that design, quite clearly, was not his forte.
    ‘No, he’s—’ Giuli’s face dropped a little as she broke off, understanding.
    ‘There’s a number,’ he said, peering down at the page. Giuli shook her head. ‘That’s Rosselli’s home number,’ she said. ‘No one’s answering, or it’s engaged – or off the hook most likely, because people will be calling, won’t they? They must be loving this. Wanting him to fail. Wanting us to fail.’
    ‘Who?’ Sandro asked, impatiently. ‘Who is this they?’ The look she turned on him almost made him smile, it was so full of pity and contempt. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Feeling that they were at an impasse that could only get worse, he looked back at the screen.
    ‘He was going to stand as a deputy, with no – no structures in place? No nothing, leaving aside this college friend, this lawyer? No advisors, no manifesto, no platform?’
    ‘If you can elect a porn star, why not Rosselli?’ said Giuli savagely. ‘Did she have a manifesto?’
    ‘I believe she did,’ said Sandro drily. They were talking about La Cicciolina, elected in the eighties, though plenty of other jokers had been elected since. ‘Hers involved something about cuddles.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s democracy in action.’ Giuli said nothing, her expression darkening.
    Turning to the window, Sandro saw that the air outside was clear and soft and blue. He needed another coffee, and the briefcase on his desk reproached him: real work. ‘Giuli, I don’t know what you want me to do,’ he said.
    She perched like a schoolchild on the edge of the chair, hands white-knuckled as she clasped them together. This really had got to her, and he still didn’t know why. ‘What?’ he said gently. ‘Tell me.’
    She looked up. ‘Them,’ she said mulishly. ‘Whatever you say – they’re out there. He’s a threat to them. Rosselli – Niccolò. He’s got too powerful, his voice has grown too loud.’
    ‘Niccolò,’ repeated Sandro. First-name terms, was it? What was this man to Giuli? She looked into his face, imploringly, and he tried not to think that way. Tried instead to think back