Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [39]
Christian folded his arms over his taut rounded stomach. ‘No one will bring you food here, Pellegrini. You must become accustomed to different ways. The food you will procure for yourself from the market.’
‘Procure? With the ‘esques and the ginkos?’
‘Si. I will advance you some lucre to purchase what you need. It would not do for Franco’s only son to starve.’
‘But it is reasonable for him to perish in the hot nightwinds?’ Trin retorted.
Montforte affected a carefully puzzled look, the thick flesh of his forehead folding into deep creases. ‘You speak in riddles, young Don. Now, you should bathe and change. Then you will proceed to Villa Fedor and interview the Baronessa Faja. Her sorella, Baronessa Mira, is to be detained by us at the earliest possible moment.’
Trin stared aghast at the Capitano. Surely Montforte knew of the circumstances—the reason—behind Mira’s disappearance.
‘Would another be more suited for such a task? I am—as Signor Malocchi has stated—uninitiated in the manner of Carabinere work,’ said Trin.
‘Two of my most experienced men will accompany you. They will assist with any difficulty you may have.’
You mean spy on me, you cazzone bastard.
‘When you have bathed and changed, present yourself to the depot next door.’ Montforte nodded and disappeared into his office, closing the door.
Trin washed in a small cubicle and pulled a clean fellalo from his reticule. He fumbled his way into it, the folds tangling without Tina Galiotto’s patient hands to assist him. What sort of a poor fool cannot dress himself? he thought bitterly. What sort of fool allows his papa to decide his life? He could hear, almost, his tia Marchella’s laughter.
He called Joe Scali from his pouchfilm.
‘Don Pellegrini, is that you?’ Scali sounded nervous.
Trin smoothed his tunic down. ‘Nobile. Did you receive the gift I sent you?’
‘Si. I believe so. M-many thanks.’
‘Perhaps you will you bring me a return gift at your earliest convenience?’
Joe nodded, understanding his meaning. ‘Er... of course . . . and are you well entertained? I hear you have left the Enclave.’
Trin’s chest tightened. ‘Yes. I am with the Carabinere in Loisa. I am tolerably entertained. And you?’
‘Actually, Don, I have a new amica.’
‘An amica?’ said Trin, surprised.
‘Si. Rantha and I. . .’ Joe tapered off sheepishly.
For some unfathomable reason the news displeased Trin, as though Rantha had in some way betrayed him. ‘I must be going. Come and visit me sometime. The view is splendid.’ He held the tiny screen to his window so Joe Scali could see the cluttered service yard behind.
Scali’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Are you content?’
‘Of course, Nobile,’ Trin replied with little conviction.
* * * *
‘Vespa and Seb Malocchi?’
A group of men in dusty fellalos looked up from where they sat on crates. Their faces were as deep crimson as those of the miners who came to Dockside, and as parched of moisture. Each one sat before an equipment bag, checking the contents. Trin wondered if their deliberate care was a method of time-wasting. Though they were shaded by the workshop’s high roof and fanned by the huge engineering coolers, his robe thermostat told him that the temperature was unforgiving. Yet none of the men had sealed their hoods for assisted cooling. He resisted sealing his own although the perspiration was already streaming down his body.
‘I’m Vespa,’ said one in surly tones. ‘What of it?’
Trin set his jaw. ‘I am . . . Pellegrini, Christian’s new aide. He has told me you will accompany me to Villa Fedor to interview the Baronessa.’
‘Don Pellegrini? An aide?’ said Vespa. He glanced to the others who barely bothered to hide their smirks.
A man at bottom of the circle with a more agreeable expression stood up and extended his hand. ‘I am Seb Malocchi. Take no notice of my rude fratello, Don Pellegrini. The heat makes him soffice here.’ Seb tapped his head. ‘Better than here, I think, eh?’ This time he cupped his groin. ‘I for one will be glad to escape this stinking heat and visit the cool of Villa Fedor.’
In spite of the vulgarity, Trin felt a