Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

A Perfect Idiot

“Ciepiela told me that we can’t do much without the machinery, which I’m not about to describe to you now, for the moment it ’s in a safe place, we’re trying to get it sent to us.” “Why don’t you ask your l ittle Bengalese friend!” she interrupted him again. Mel i didn’t want excuses, only the truth, but the truth, with someone l ike Morel , was a sl ippery fish in shal low water, you see it at times and then you don’t see it anymore, and if you want to grab it, you’ve got to get right in the water with it. “That guy Bando’s job was to track you down and ask you to come to Mi lan to meet us,” he answered. “That was the deal , the rest he did on his own, I swear it.” “Don’t swear—people who swear are almost always l iars,” Mel i said. Had she bel ieved him? She’d concluded, either from the sound of his voice or some other sign that he’d given her, that it was best to bel ieve him. He wasn’t touching his neck, thus he wasn’t lying. “Then we met on the train,” Morel continued, “and the rest you saw, we know how it went.” “I’d l ike to know if your friend is wi l l ing to confirm this version of the facts, or if I’m going to discover that in real ity you are both crazy pigs.”

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