‘There must be some pressing business that’s keeping him here,’ mused Fabrizio. ‘Well, Mario, you take it easy, then, and have a good evening. Oh, and if you know of a nice trattoria near here that’s not too pricey, I’ll take a break at about seven and then come back here later to finish up.’

Mario recommended Signora Pina’s place, not far from the ring road. Pina served all the local specialities, made with her own hands, mind you, and at a good price to boot. He said to be sure to tell her that Mario had sent him and he’d get a special deal, just like everyone who worked at the NAS.

Fabrizio thanked him and plunged back into his work. There was nothing better than being completely on your own, without phones ringing or people bustling in and out of offices. By seven he had finished checking the library files that contained publications on the lad of Volterra. All he’d turned up was a couple of articles by local scholars, the kind of thing that you’d expect to find in a museum collection. Nothing new in terms of information.

SIGNORA PINA found him a table in the courtyard behind the trattoria, hemmed in between the back of an old convent and an L-shaped portico that had once been part of the cloister. An archway in the portico led to a little square that was closed off at the opposite end by the striking and rather imposing bulk of a very ancient building, probably a fortified house partially restructured during the Renaissance.

‘What is that place over there?’ he asked as Signora Pina brought him a plate of pasta e fagioli.

‘What, you don’t know anything?’ said the woman, speaking in a strong local accent.

No, he didn’t know anything, explained Fabrizio, because he’d just arrived and moved on to the Semprini farm only last night.