Chapter 2: The White Rabbit
Something new and curious animated the new morning in Borgomale: rumor had it that a priest was fixing up the old parish church of “Santa Azzurra della Laguna”.
The news was surprising because the building, in addition to having been abandoned for 60 years, had also been deconsecrated. Therefore, technically speaking, they no longer had any religious value. Everyone wondered: who could be so foolish as to try to restore a place that not even the Holy See itself cared about anymore? A fool, obviously... even if from just one glance many had immediately understood that Don Walter was not to be considered as such.
Word of the new arrival had spread like wildfire through whispers and word of mouth, and the most curious had gone to spy on him. They were amazed not only by his appearance but also by the strength he showed while cleaning the church, lifting and moving old furniture and heavy objects without effort. Those who had thought of robbing him changed their minds both because of that and because of the threatening look he gave them.
“What a strange man,” many thought similarly.
But just as there was great interest in him, there was also the certainty that he would not last long. He was not the first person had tried to bring good to Borgomale and despite the intentions, in the end no one really managed to carry them out.
<< Oh, it's about time. >> Mezzanotte exclaimed when he saw a large van arriving.
The vehicle parked in the old adjacent yard that had become a kingdom of weeds, as well as a hiding place for lizards and cockroaches. The van had a slightly rounded shape and a roof with hexagonal segments, the bumpers were thick and covered most of the black wheels and the pipes that connected the engine to the whole vehicle were constantly puffing out hot steam. It looked a bit like a turtle, with the only difference that this one was ready to make a hasty escape at any moment.
<< Have you already brought everything I asked for? You are efficient. >>
<< No, provident. They told us not to go back to this hole a second time. >>
Don Walter sighed, by now he had learned how deep the citizens' mistrust towards Borgomale was.
Mothers used it as a “threat” to scare their disobedient children and the police often patrolled the entrances to the bridges to make sure no one entered or exited, other priests and even some locals tried to convince him to abandon whatever plans he had in mind.
The couriers unloaded all the packages, stacking them randomly in the courtyard. They were almost all large wooden crates with “fragile” or “heavy” written on them, and each one had a piece of paper attached to it, indicating the contents.
<< Can you explain to me how I have to activate them? >>
<< It's all written in the manual, just follow the instructions. We have to go now, we have other deliveries to make. >>
<< Hey, can you guarantee that these things work? Hey!>>
The van sped away, ignoring the priest as he was intoxicated by the smog released by the muffler. He put his hands on his hips, in disbelief at the situation. Well, it wasn't the first time he had been forced to fend for himself, many of the things he knew how to do he had learned without the help of necessity rather than following the guidance of a master.
<< God provides to those who work. >> he said to himself, motivating himself.
He read the papers to understand which had priority and which he could leave closed, thus putting them together in order of importance. At that moment, he noticed some men in the distance who were watching him... or, rather, who were watching the boxes that had arrived with interest. It didn't take a genius to understand that at the first opportunity they would try to steal them, sensing that the contents were somehow important, they had a much more bold attitude than that of other individuals who had kept an eye on him the whole time.
He knew he had to be careful, after all Borgomale was a den of thieves, but he was not intimidated by those looks, nor by their intentions. He did not speak to them or even look at them badly, he chose to continue working as if nothing had happened. The boxes he did not need loaded onto his shoulders and carried them into the church so he could deal with them later, those whose contents he already needed he opened by unhinging one side with his hands, breaking the wood as if it were a breadstick which he then delicately threw aside.
The men stood there gaping at him, in disbelief at his strength. They exchanged worried glances and then ran off, wisely deciding not to bother him.
<< It always works. >> the priest said, chuckling.
Fontebianca enjoyed the attention the world reserved for it.
The “tide” of tourists was always viewed with great enthusiasm, as it meant publicity and lots of money.
Given its proximity to the water, many urban details had been converted to reflect this element: for example, the street lamps were placed on open shells, many of the houses were painted in various shades of blue and light blue, and the new telephone booths resembled fishing nets with small fish and even crabs perched on top.
As the city grew, efforts were made to improve local hospitality in order to make a good impression on visitors and encourage them to return and, above all, to spend their money in the taverns, hotels and shops. A notable detail that locals were proud of was the thick cast iron pipes that arched out of the ground, whose function was to bring heat into the structures, unraveling throughout the city like large snakes.
Some clever entrepreneurs had managed to start a business in the “San Nicola” and “Gugliadoro” neighborhoods, some of the most popular places.
The San Nicola neighborhood mainly included the port, the shipyards, and also some offices. It was a place dedicated more to work than to tourism, but hidden among the buildings and the streets that ran along narrow canals there were still old shops that had survived the modernity of the times and that foreigners found interesting. It was precisely in those places that the crooks found easy opportunities for "work", pickpocketing passers-by often without them realizing it. Pretending to ask for information, a seemingly mistaken shoulder push, an act of kindness... there were many ways to steal purses and coin purses, or even jewelry and watches, from bags and pockets. And if the robbery had not succeeded, the only thing left to do was to run away.
Having good legs for running was as necessary as having a light hand for stealing.
It was precisely on these aspects that one of the most notorious delinquents of Fontebianca, nicknamed the "White Rabbit", was relying on after being noticed by a policeman stealing a tourist's wallet. The whistle of the guard attracted the attention of the people and other colleagues who intervened at the call to lend a hand, distinguishing themselves with their dark blue uniforms with black and red inserts, as well as the glittering emblems of their military corps, sewn on the hats that could fly away at any moment while running. The individual was not worried about the number of pursuers, on the contrary; he considered it yet another challenge against himself to prove that he would be able to get away with it again. He slipped through the narrowest streets, climbing over obstacles and even dodging speeding cars, he hindered his pursuers by throwing garbage cans or fruit or fish crates on the street. “Cops and Robbers” was a game that never bored him because it was always different every time… and because he always won.
“Oh damn, I’m late.” He thought at one point, hearing the church bell ringing the hour.
Reluctantly he stopped the game, leaving behind the policemen with an athletic leap that allowed him to quickly scale a wall as if he had wings on his feet, reaching the roofs of the houses partially covered by the smoke from the chimneys. In the street, with no way to reach him, the others were shouting in anger and some had even thrown their caps to the ground in frustration. They could not stand being humiliated by that individual anymore, sooner or later they would be able to arrest him and finally the streets of Fontebianca would be safer.
Meanwhile the “White Rabbit”, although no longer being chased, continued to run.
He had an important appointment, and it would have been a big problem for him if he didn't keep it. The last time he had been late, they hadn't let him get away with it and when he thought about it, he could still feel his back twitching with pain from the "penance" he had suffered. Finally, taking various shortcuts and taking advantage of a free pass on one of the trams that crossed the city, he managed to get to Borgomale.
Among the dark streets of the neighborhood he had to slow down his pace, even if almost everyone knew each other it was always better to move cautiously, especially to avoid attracting the attention of certain unfriendly neighbors who were best to stay away from.
<< You've finally arrived. >> say a serious-looking man who was waiting for him outside an old, three-story gray building.
He was wearing a suit that could have been described as elegant, but the frayed edges and faded fabric emphasized its poor, worn quality.
<< Hey, I'm on time this time. >> the pickpocket told him.
<< Did you bring that thing? >>
<< Sure. Just before coming here. >>
The thief showed a large package that he was holding carefully with both hands, the contents were very delicate and he had taken more than one precaution to preserve it.
The other man peered inside to make sure the product was intact; woe betide him if it was otherwise. Sure that everything was in order, he nodded satisfied, and opened the door of the building, signaling him to enter.
There were high-pitched screams inside the building that, despite its old appearance, tried to appear neat and clean with almost new furniture and a few plants placed around. There were many people inside who passed from one room to another of the building, some with tired faces and others still energetic, probably after a second or third dose of coffee. He had been there so many times that he remembered by heart the names of the people, the inside of each room, and what was on each of the floors. He did not consider it a place of work, but he often found himself visiting it to satisfy the demanding requests of its occupants.
<< I'm glad you were able to come. Today more than ever we needed you, especially after the news they gave us yesterday. >>
<< It doesn't surprise me, it's a big change after a long time without any requests. >>
<< Yeah, so be extra careful, they're nervous today. >>
<< How much? >>
<< I heard them talking about the crazy horse. >>
When the last door opened, the two men were hit by the shrill cries of the fifteen children who were playing inside. Boys and girls were chasing each other or fighting each other, hitting each other with the pillows of their beds. On some of these, large cardboard boxes had been placed on which were drawn castle towers, rampant dragons, and trees with thick foliage. Some groups pretended to be fearless knights or defenseless princesses. In one corner of the room, on a pair of tables, lay the crumbled or half-eaten remains of various sweet and savory treats, the smells of which still lingered in the air. On the edges, instead, was attached a small banner on which was written in blue paint “Congratulations Luigi”.
One of the children noticed the presence of the two men and immediately pointed his finger at the thief, shouting his name at the top of his lungs with the enthusiasm typical of childhood. Immediately, like a sort of domino effect, the rest of the group imitated him and surrounded him in a single happy chorus.
<< So? How is our guest of honor? >> he asked one of the boys in the group, the only one wearing a little crown made of yellow paper.
<< I'm super happy! This is the most super beautiful day of my life! >> shouted the child with a smile who was missing an incisor.
<< Good! This is exactly what I wanted to hear! But it seems to me that this party is still missing something… >>
The children, intrigued by the man's words, looked at him, repeating "what?" in a tone of voice that resembled the chirping of a chick. It was then that he opened the box he had with him, revealing a chocolate cake whose frosting was perfectly smooth and shiny, with the edges decorated with biscuit crumbs and a tuft of cream crowning it in the center. It was a simple cake both in taste and appearance, but for those children it was the most splendid thing they had ever seen, especially for the young boy.
<< Congratulations on your adoption Luigi. >>
<< Thanks Vinny! >>
The White Rabbit's real name was Vinicio Castelli, or simply “Vinny”.
Vinicio was a tall, slim man with an angel face that exuded something shrewd and whose big blue eyes, unruly blond curls and kind smile would have allowed him to pass for a rich gentleman of the village, rather than a criminal. Vinicio stood out from the crowd, yes, for his appearance, but not in the normal sense. He suffered from a form of vitiligo[1]segmental located mainly on the left side of the face, covering the eye area and part of the forehead, and on most of the left arm. There were still many who kept their distance thinking that his condition was contagious, but he had not care for it for many years.
As a resident of Borgomale, he fell into that percentage of residents who grew up stealing and cheating the wealthy people of Fontebianca. He was good at it; he was probably the best among all his “colleagues” working in the neighborhood. He would have been commendable for his skills, if it hadn’t been for something that was against the law. Vinicio knew that stealing was wrong, but at the end of the day he considered it a job like any other, necessary for survival. In addition to being athletic, he was also quick-witted, there weren’t many guys as smart and cunning in those parts… and those who were, on the other hand; didn’t have certain scruples that he, on the contrary; held on to very tightly. For example, Vinicio was keen to help the children of the “Piccolo Angelo della Pace” orphanage where he was a close-knit volunteer. He donated part of his “savings” to the volunteers to pay for the numerous expenses, he always offered a hand for any repairs and, above all; he didn't think twice about keeping company with the children who were crazy about him.
He never tired of playing with them, telling them stories or simply keeping them company when they were sick… and one appointment he never missed was when they were finally adopted.
<< This is the fourth adoption this year… we've never had so many before. >> said the man next to him, the old Director Gallo.
<< I don't remember the last time I heard so much happy laughter in this old place… if I were to die now, I would go away happy. >>
<< It'll take a while for you to kick the bucket. With the tough skin you've got, you'll live even longer than me. >>
<< That's for sure if you persist in encouraging the police. Sooner or later they will catch you, and as soon as they throw you in prison, they will kill you. >>
<< Pessimistic as usual. They'll never catch me. >>
<< Vinny, please. Listen to me once and for all. >> The director's voice became anxious.
He grabbed Vinicio's shoulder and shook it firmly. He looked away, trying to feign boredom, when in reality it was a cowardly way of avoiding having to address a sentimental topic.
<< Get out of this place. My brother still has a job available in his factory, in Notera. The pay is great, the city is quiet… you can start a new life there, honest and dignified. >>
<< Good God, Antonio, this story again? How many more times are you going to have to tell me this? I don't care. >>
<< Why not? Damn, at least have the decency to tell me! >>
Vinicio swallowed a piece of the cake that the birthday boy had given him, trying to sweeten the bitter taste that was forming in the back of his throat. He stared at each participant in the little party, their smiles still innocent of their age and their eyes full of dreams and hopes not yet shattered.
<< Because as long as I'm here doing the dirty work, they have a chance to get their act together. >> He replied, after a long silence.
Suddenly one of the employees interrupted the conversation, informing that there was someone on the phone for Vinicio.
Suddenly the cake lost all its good flavor; it already knew who it was.
<< Hello? >> he asked, after placing the telephone receiver to his ear.
In the background he heard the tune of an old classical song, a symphony that made him instinctively roll his eyes, nauseated by all the times he had heard it.
<< I finally found you, you wretch. What the hell are you doing? >> replied a hoarse, annoyed voice, followed by a series of loud coughs.
<< I'm at a party, what's up? >>
<< I knew you were back with those brats. The thing is, unlike you, I work, you lazy bum. I've been waiting for you here at the Seagull's house for an hour... You remember that he called us for a job offer, right? >>
<< I don't know. Maybe? >>
The Interlocutor let off steam in a long series of unrepeatable insults, Vinicio had to put the receiver away so as not to be deafened.
<< Unless you prefer to have your ass swapped for your face, hurry up and come over here! Instead of wasting your time with those starving people, worry about doing the work you're asked to do! >>
<< Oh, how boring you are. If it were up to you, there would never be any fun, there would always be only work. Enjoy life a little, sometimes. >>
<< The bunny is right, life should be enjoyed peacefully now and then. >>
The voice he heard in the background gave him shivers.
Vinicio described himself as a quiet person and few things made him nervous. On the contrary, there was something... or rather, someone that he just couldn't stand even hearing the name.
He called himself “The Seagull,” and he was an asshole.
He was the head of the most active criminal group there in Fontebianca, you could almost say that his organization was almost on par with a company because he had been able to achieve an impressive planning made of commissioned thefts, money laundering, and dangerous blackmail that kept some influential people in check. Thanks to this, that bastard could live a good life. Despite his fame, the lack of evidence and witnesses, who by lucky coincidences "disappeared" were also known to the police; allowed him to remain at liberty. Almost all the criminals of Borgomale worked for him and said that it was convenient to be employed by him given how much they could earn, Vinicio, on the other hand; did not want to have anything to do with him, aware of how rotten he was and how far he was able to go to satisfy his thirst for money and power.
<< Mr. Castelli, don't worry about what your friend says. Stay at the party, there's no need for you to come to my house. >>
“And who wanted to come?” thought Vinicio.
<< Actually, so as not to bother you later, we can talk about it on the phone. I'll just take a few minutes, the time to present you with a job offer... >>
<< Thank you but I am already busy. I will be available for a collaboration maybe in one hundred years. >>
<< Come on, I'll pay you well. I assure you it's a very good offer. >>
<< And I assure you that I am not interested, thank you. >>
Even though he couldn't see it, from the sigh he heard on the receiver he understood that the Seagull was annoyed by the refusal.
However, when he spoke again, he did not lose his composure and maintained a cordial tone.
<< I'm sorry to hear this, I would have liked it if he could work for me. Your skills are extraordinary, you are almost a superhero. >>
<< Sir, please. I love compliments, but they won't change my mind. >>
<< I know, I know. But you see… I can’t think of anyone as capable as you to ask to enter the offices of the “Fondazione delle Acque Benedette”. I have excellent employees under my command, but no one comes close to his level. >>
Vinicio remained open-mouthed, incredulous at what he had just heard.
<< What? Are you nuts by any chance? >> he said to the Seagull, looking at the receiver in shock. << Do you want to hire me to enter the offices of the church? >>
<< Yes, because you see… >>
<< Oh no! I'm not stupid! I'm a thief, yes, but I don't take anything from the church! >>
<< I assure you that most of those people have intentions as noble as mine. >>
<< No shit, Sherlock. I know that. But it's still wrong! So, no! Forget about me! >>
There was silence on the phone again, but this time he didn't sense the disappointment from before and honestly, it didn't bode well.
He heard the sound of paper being turned over, then the sound of a pen writing. Then the Seagull turned to the other man, Vinicio's colleague, asking him if he had time to do him a favor in case they couldn't agree.
<< Can I ask you a question? >>
<< No. >>
<< Do you know where “Calle[2] of the Wells” is? >>
Vinicio stopped breathing; it was the street where the orphanage was located. Without letting him speak, the man made him understand that in those parts many accidents would happen if he did not do him that favor, guaranteeing the risk that the residents could be affected... and in particular the children, and a certain Mr. Gallo, would not be very happy about this.
<< You disgusts me. >> Vinicio dared to tell him, furious.
<< If you come by my house tonight I will explain in detail what you will have to do. Oh, I hope you are not allergic to cats, my dear cat Emo is not feeling well and needs company, so I am forced to take him everywhere. >>
<< I love animals…. >>
<< Good. See you tonight then, goodbye. >>
As soon as the call ended, Vinicio threw away the receiver which remained dangling on the table with the short cord.
“Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!” he repeated mentally, as he hit the wall.
“May God strike you down!” he wished him.
San Andrea Cemetery was like any other cemetery: sad, gloomy… but unlike many others, particularly beautiful.
There was no tombstone or chapel that did not have stone ornaments with reassuring angelic figures or elements of nature, sometimes even something that recalled a detail of the life of the deceased person. There was, for example; the chapel of the Costantini, an ancient family of gondoliers, whose roof itself recalled that of the felze[3]; or the tomb of Judge Zennaro, a man who was highly respected in life for his contribution to enforcing the law, who in addition to having a touching epitaph in his memory, had the tombstone protected by the goddess of justice who held a gilded brass scale. For this reason, the municipality made sure to hire employees who knew how to keep it in good condition and clean, where their skills allowed. The most recent employees, however, had more interest in easy money, rather than in caring for the deceased.
Unbeknownst to the authorities and the families who came to lay flowers on the graves, three new hires, a skinny black-haired man, a dwarf from the north-central part of the country and a one-eyed old man, had agreed to profit at the expense of the dead. When left unattended in the farewell chapels, they robbed them of the material goods left on them such as rings or bracelets, or unbeknownst to the relatives, they dug up the remains just after they were buried and resold the organs to customers who requested them for reasons they had the good sense not to ask about. For the one-eyed man, it was not the first time he had “enjoyed” himself in this type of work, in fact, his attitude was cold and detached as he loaded the corpses onto a cart as if they were sacks of potatoes.
<< Did you hear? This time it wasn't my imagination. >> said the dwarf, turning the lantern toward the inside of the cemetery.
Maybe it was the impression his colleague gave him, maybe it was the atmosphere of the cemetery, but ever since they had started digging up bodies, he had felt very nervous.
He wasn't the suggestible type or one who feared death, but that night something wasn't right and since he had started his shift, he had heard strange noises and something similar to furtive movements every time he turned his back on the cemetery, but his concerns fell on deaf ears to his colleagues.
<< Come on, you're a pain tonight with this obsession with noises. >>
<< I'm telling you there's something here… we're not alone tonight. >>
<< And of course we are not alone. We are in a cemetery. >>
<< Stop making fun of me! This is serious! >>
<< Both of you shut up. Save your breath for digging, rather than talking idly. We still have three graves to dig up, so get busy if you want us to get paid. >>
The dwarf and the skinny one did as ordered, starting to dig up the earth from the grave we were disrespectfully standing on. They dug for five minutes before a dull rumble stopped them, making one of them laugh.
<< Seriously, you are hungry right now? In this place? >>
<< Look, it wasn't my stomach. >>
<< Not mine either. What do you say instead, old man? >>
The one-eyed man was gone, the skinny one and the dwarf were left alone with the cart from which hung a sack with a pale hand sticking out. The two men looked around confused, certain that they had neither seen him nor heard him go away. The absence of his low and constant grumbling amplified the silence of the cemetery had become darker, suddenly they felt at the mercy of the emptiness that hovered in that sad place and money no longer seemed a good excuse to stay in there.
Before the need to escape reached their brains, something came to them from behind faster than thought. Cold, deadly, and terrifying.
[1]Vitiligo is a chronic skin condition, in the vast majority of cases not congenital[1], characterised by hypomelanosis or leukoderma, i.e. the appearance on the skin, hair or mucous membranes of non-pigmented patches, i.e. areas where the physiological colouration due to melanin is completely lacking, and which appear white or translucent.
[2]The term Calle derives from the Latin callis, which means lane, path, mule track.
[3]The felze was a dome that was placed on the gondola to protect the passenger from rain and bad weather.
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