The Silence of the Wave by Gianrico Carofiglio Read Free Book Online Page B

computer, took his sleeping pills, and went to bed.

7
    That Thursday, Roberto arrived early again and went for another exploratory walk around the neighborhood. He discovered that the Museum of Contemporary Art was located a stone’s throw from the doctor’s office, in an old building that had once been a brewery.
    How many times had he walked right past it? It was a bit bigger than a drinking fountain, and yet he still hadn’t noticed it.
    He told himself he must go in one of these days. Then he walked on a bit farther and discovered a little shop that sold secondhand records and sheet music. The hand-painted sign read
Lizard King
. Behind the counter, sitting at a computer, was a man with gray, shoulder-length hair, a leather jacket, and a flowered shirt with an oversize collar that rested on his lapels. He looked about sixty and gave the impression that his stylistic development had stopped at the beginning of the seventies. He looked up just long enoughto see who had come in and then looked back at the screen.
    Roberto browsed through the old CDs and vinyl with a slight sense of euphoria, as if he were looking for something specific and was about to find it.
    When he had finished his inspection, he told himself he couldn’t leave without buying something. He picked
Nevermind
by Nirvana. As he went out, it struck him that the neighborhood was becoming familiar, which was a comforting thought.
    * * *
    “I see you’ve been shopping at
Lizard King
.”
    “Oh, yes, I looked in and found this CD. It’s music I remember hearing at the time of the story I’m telling you, that’s why I thought of getting it. Strange guy, the owner.”
    “Yes, he is a bit weird. Apart from selling secondhand records, he writes reviews in specialist magazines. He’s not exactly outgoing, but he’s friendly enough when you get to know him.”
    “Even the name of the shop is strange.
Lizard King
. What does it mean?”
    “It was Jim Morrison’s nickname.”
    “The singer from the Doors?”
    “Yes. Do you like the Doors?”
    “I don’t know much about music. Is ‘Light My Fire’ by them?”
    “Yes. Maybe you know this one too.” He gave a pitch-perfect whistle that seemed to be produced by an electronic instrument.
    “I know the tune but I can’t remember the title.”
    “ ‘People Are Strange.’”
    “You whistle very well.”
    The doctor shrugged and gave a little smile.
    “What kind of music do you like, Roberto?”
    “I don’t really know much about it. I used to listen to whatever was around, but now that you’ve asked me the question, I don’t think I could say what kind of music I like. And I haven’t listened to any for a long time. I can’t even explain why I bought this CD. I know I told you I bought it because it was music I heard at the time of the story I’m telling you, but if we hadn’t talked about it I’d probably have taken it home, put it down somewhere, and forgotten all about it.”
    “But now you’ll listen to it?”
    “Yes, I will.”
    The doctor nodded his approval, as if with that reply an important subject had been dealt with in the best possible way and now they could go on to something else.
    “The story about the man who wanted you to help him ship cocaine from Colombia,” he said. “How did it end?”
    “We met in the same club three days later, as we’d agreed. I’d informed my superiors, and in agreementwith the Prosecutor’s Department they’d decided to mount an undercover operation. It was still fairly rare in those days. We dug up everything from our files that we could find about Signor Mario Binetti, known as Jaguar, and by the time I saw him again, I knew more about him than he knew about himself.”
    Roberto broke off, following an idea that had crossed his mind.
    “I’d done my research and enjoyed discovering every detail on the person I was going to be dealing with. Studying people and situations was maybe the thing that interested me most. Arriving