Cosi Fan Tutti - 5 Read Online Free PDF Page B

still persisted between him and his guest was not at all awkward, and neither showed any urgency to break it. It was a large, comfortable silence, as unconstrained and embracing as the hazy sunlight which coated every surface around them, or the blowsy air which shifted caressingly to and fro. In the extreme distance, the ghostly outline of the peninsula of Sorrento could just be made out, like an old print bleached out by the sun. The peak of Vesuvius loomed above the imposing perimeter wall of the San Martino monastery. To the right, Capri was almost completely obscured in the haze, a fading memory. In the strait between the island and the peninsula the dark rectangular block of a ship seemed to hover on the horizon, perhaps the ferry which Zen had seen that morning, now on its way to Sicily, or even farther south, to Malta and Tunisia.
    ‘Anyway, I suppose we had to do something,’ said the woman sitting beside Aurelio Zen, as though concluding a lengthy internal debate.
    ‘Of course we did/ he agreed idly. ‘Whatever the truth about that pair may be, they certainly aren’t the sort you want your daughters associating with. Family background unknown, consorting with known criminals, frequenting some of the worst streets in the city, no visible means of support but plenty of money to throw around…’
    ‘Not to mention handsome and charming/ added Valeria.
    Zen nodded slowly.
    ‘It’s a deadly combination all right. One which both demands and justifies the measures we’re taking.’
    ‘Yes, but will it work?’
    They had met by the purest chance at a party given by the British Consulate. Zen had been invited through an official whom he had helped to uncover a scheme to
    smuggle illegal Asian immigrants into Britain on cargoships plying between Naples and Liverpool. As for Valeria, she was there thanks to her friendship with the wife of some politico in the economic affairs department of the Campagnia regional government, who had made a polished, vapid, interminable speech of the kind which such functionaries can turn out at a moment’s notice to suit any occasion from a conference marking the anniversary of the birth or death of X to the inauguration of a new building, bilateral agreement, cultural artefact, exhibition or plaque to, by, in or about Y
    The idea behind the gathering, as far as Zen could make out, was to sip industrial-grade sparkling wine, nibble at fiddly, self-destructing canapes and socialize at the top of your voice with people you already knew or who were eager to know you. This left Zen, a nobody who knew no one, at a distinct disadvantage. He was just wondering
    how soon he could decently leave when his contact appeared and led him across the room to be introduced to Signora Valeria Squillace.
    The Englishman was a bluff, burly, jovial type who had recently been transferred to Naples in a fit of bureaucratic whimsy after many years in Finland, whose  idiosyncratic language he had apparently mastered to the degree that foreigners ever can. His Italian, however, was still rudimentary, and Zen’s English - to say nothing of his Finnish - practically non-existent. Their official dealings had been through an interpreter, but now they were on their own. To make matters worse, the room was crowded and noisy, while Signora Squillace was slightly deaf in one ear and too vain to wear a hearing aid.
    As a result, Zen discovered once they were alone together that his new acquaintance was under the illusion that his name was Alfonso Zembla and that he was looking for a house to rent. For a while he kept waiting for a suitable opportunity to correct her, but eventually gave up. The matter was of no consequence. He had no interest in finding somewhere permanent to live in Naples, and no reason to suppose that he would ever see the woman again. She was in her forties, tall and well-proportioned, with hazel eyes, wavy black hair with the odd streak of silver, and an expressive mouth which seemed to be