Solea by Jean-Claude Izzo, Howard Curtis Read Free Book Online Page B

they ask you for my name?”
    â€œThey want me to keep an eye on the apartment . . . Let them know if anyone comes, and who. And they told me not to forward the mail. They’re going to call me every day, they said. And I’d be well advised to answer.”
    The phone rang. It was right next to us, on a small table, with a little lace doily under it. Madame Orsini lifted the receiver. I saw her face turn white. She looked at me in panic.
    â€œYes. Yes, of course.”
    She placed her trembling hand over the receiver. “It’s them. It’s . . . it’s for you.”
    She handed me the phone.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œSo you got straight down to work, Montale. That’s good. But you’re wasting your time there. We’re in a hurry, you see?”
    â€œFuck you.”
    â€œNo, it’s you who’s going to get fucked. And soon, asshole!”
    He hung up.
    Madame Orsini was looking at me. She was terrified now.
    â€œDo what they asked you,” I said.
    I wanted Sonia. Sonia’s smile. Her eyes. Her body, which I still didn’t know. I was desperate for her. I wanted to lose myself in her. To forget all the corruption that was blighting our lives.
    I still had a few illusions left.

4. I N WHICH TEARS ARE THE ONLY CURE FOR HATE
    I had a beer, then another, and another. I was sitting in the shade on the terrace of La Samaritaine, down by the harbor. At least here there was a little breeze from the sea. It wasn’t exactly cool, but it kept me from dripping with sweat every time I took a swig of beer. It felt good to be here. On the finest terrace in the Vieux-Port. The only one that lets you enjoy the light of the city all day long. Nobody who’s indifferent to its light will ever understand Marseilles. Down here, you can almost touch it. Even at the hottest times. Even when it forces you to keep your eyes down. Like today.
    I ordered another beer, then went off to phone Sonia again. It was nearly eight o’clock, and I’d been calling her every half hour without getting any answer.
    The more time passed, the more I wanted to see her. I didn’t even know her, but I already missed her. What could she have told Honorine and Fonfon to win them over the way she had? What could she have told me to get me in such a state? How could a woman get inside a man’s heart so easily, just with looks and smiles? Was it possible to touch the heart without even touching the skin? That must have been what seduction meant. To affect another person’s heart, make it quiver, become attached to it. Sonia.
    Her phone was ringing, and still nobody was answering. I was getting desperate. I felt like a teenager in love, who can’t wait to hear his girlfriend’s voice. I supposed that was one of the reasons cell phones were so popular. Being connected to the person you love, anywhere, at any time. Being able to say to her, yes, I love you, yes, I miss you, yes, see you tonight. But I couldn’t see myself getting a cell phone, and I couldn’t understand the way I was feeling about Sonia. The truth was, I couldn’t even remember the sound of her voice.
    I walked back to my table, and started in on Babette’s articles again. I’d already read six of them. They were all about law and order, the projects, the police. And the Mafia. Especially the most recent ones. For the newspaper
Aujourd’hui
, Babette had written an account of the press conference given in Geneva by seven European judges: Renaud Van Ruymbecke from France, Bernard Bertossa from Switzerland, Gherardo Colombo and Edmondo Bruti Liberati from Italy, Baltazar Garzon Real and Carlos Jimenez Villarejo from Spain and Benoît Dejemeppe from Belgium. The title of the article, which had appeared in October 1996, was “Seven Judges Speak Out Against Corruption.”
    The judges, Babette wrote, expressed their anger at the fact that legal cooperation is either non-existent or is hampered