It was a bad drop and rock falls had dislodged any pine trees. There was nothing to check the fall of a vehicle if it went too close to the edge of the road, strayed over the warning line of faded white paint.
He might say, ‘He lit all of our lives. He is now under the protection of Jesus. We are all better persons for having known him. We will not forget him and will cherish our memories of dear Marcantonio.’
Or, ‘I suppose there were redeeming features in his life, but Marcantonio guarded them from me. I saw no sign, ever, of modesty or love, or of any desire to fulfil any task that he did not reason would bring advantage to himself.’
The vehicle behind was so close.
‘An example to us all.’
‘An example to us all of what happens to the young when they live, and are reared, in the hate-filled environment of a criminal family that permits no conscience, has no hesitation in inflicting pain, misery and dependency in the interests of personal gain. Good riddance and—’
He was jolted forward.
The impact was harsh and sudden, as if the driver behind him had hit the accelerator. He wore his belt but it was loose, and he hit the headrest, then swung forward and his temple cracked the top of the wheel. But he held on – he had to. He held the steering wheel with all his strength and kept the tyres on the road. He was nudged towards the cliff edge, but resisted – he felt himself going and thought the vehicle behind had insinuated its bonnet and front wheels between the rock wall and his own rear tyres. It was inexorable. He was driven towards the edge and—
He was supposed to be a man of God and was considered a reasonable priest, who did not flout the rules of his profession. He didn’t know what he should say, so he said nothing. He did not beseech his God for help. He swore – which he never did, not even in the hearing of his cat – did not pray, and was answered.
A lorry came round the corner, braking and slewing across the road.
Father Demetrio hit his pedal and went clear. The space in front of him, between the rock wall and the lorry’s giant wheels, was minimal. He went through the gap. Paint fragments flew and the contact screamed. He was free. Sweat poured off his body and his eyes were misted. He looked into his mirror. The vehicle behind him had not had room to skirt the lorry. He drove at full speed. He abandoned caution.
He knew where he would go.
Father Demetrio had sensed it would happen, but not when or how. He was past the turning to Montalto and was on the Reggio road. It would have been sensible to take a slower, more obscure route to the city, but he wanted speed to be his saviour. The high pines flowed past, and he saw the cars of the mushroom pickers. When he looked into his mirror, often, but he couldn’t see the black HiLux. His hands shook as he held the wheel, and the enormity of his intended actions confronted him.
He had done something unusual during the early hours of the morning: he had unburdened himself to his wife. The prosecutor would be on course for new pastures when the guillotine blade came down on Scorpion Fly. He had left his bed, shaved hurriedly, kissed her cheek, then bawled something encouraging at the kids. He had shoved an apple into his pocket and been hustled to his car by the escort. Had he won the lottery? He had said, ‘A new day, a new start,’ to his chief guard, then explained his thinking. The prosecutor had watched his initial bemusement, then heard a chuckle, and finally saw them accept his view.
They were early in the building. It was not a place where people hurried – the wide staircase never doubled as a racetrack. He ran up the steps, a smile on his face, his guys chasing him. Their footfall echoed off the high ceilings and bounced off the bare walls. He clattered across the lobby, punched numbers at his door, waved to them and was inside, alone. He lit a cigarette, then turned on the coffee-machine and sank into his chair. He felt liberated.
When a light blinked at him, he got up and went to make his coffee, a harsh espresso, good for the start of a new day, a new target. He poured it into a dirty cup and swigged. He savoured it, then went to the floor safe.