Chapter 29
The other name
(Tancredi)
The desk where Eugenio De Sanctis sits is about as long as a ski slope in the Dolomites and cluttered with a myriad of folders, all different colours. The secretary of the founder of one of the most prosperous and influential companies in southern Italy is fully engaged in a rather heated phone call with a mysterious caller, who’s putting great strain on both his patience and his professional ability to express himself in English. His accent is about as close to a British one as my abdominals are to Brad Pitt’s.
As I move a few steps towards his kingdom, I’m daydreaming about the moment when the petty phone call will end with a resounding "just sod off, please".
Almost as if he’s read my mind he ends the conversation abruptly muttering an insult th
