Zen said nothing.

‘Anyway,’ Foschi went on, ‘the Questura in Bologna are handling the actual investigation, but we need someone to go up there and liaise with the Ministry. Your name came up.’

‘Why should they tell me anything they don’t tell you?’

Instinct told him that bluntness was the best way to whatever organ had been substituted for Foschi’s heart.

‘They won’t. But they’ll tell you sooner, and above all you’ll be in a position to report back on what they’re not telling us.’

‘Why should they try and conceal the truth? We’re all playing for the same team.’

‘I’m not saying that they necessarily will. But they are going to be under enormous pressure to deliver results, and quickly. Lorenzo Curti was a figure of fame and notoriety not just in Emilia-Romagna but on a national and even international level, a millionaire entrepreneur who owned the Bologna football team and was also the majority shareholder in a dairy conglomerate currently under investigation for tax evasion and serious fraud. In short, this promises to be the highest-profile case in the Bologna jurisdiction since the Uno Bianca fiasco.’

After a moment, Zen recalled the spate of serial killings around Bologna in the late 1980s involving a white Fiat Uno. He also recalled that when the perpetrators had finally been brought to justice, they had almost all turned out to be policemen working out of the Bologna Questura, many of them involved in the investigation into their own crimes. It had taken years for morale in the Polizia di Stato to recover from this scandal.

‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ Foschi concluded. ‘Your assignment is not to take command of the investigation but to remain fully informed about progress and to report developments to me personally on a daily basis, and more frequently if necessary. That way, if the media vultures start to circle, we’ll be ready for them.’