14
The van drove along the road that ran along the walls of the village, sometimes shaded by the curved branches of the willows. It passed in front of the arch of Porta Diaz, one of the ancient entrances of Castelmuso. On the gate you could still see the guard posts, the mouths of fire and the sumptuous bronze doors, the latter almost perfect copies of those completely in gold, plundered by the Napoleonic army a couple of centuries earlier.
Sailor was smoking a joint with his elbow resting on the window. Laurel stretched her legs resting them on the dashboard, in a spot abundantly covered with dust. The joint ran feverishly from hand to hand.
Brando, sitting next to Laurel, heard the phone ringing. It was Rinaldo Duranti, but he didn't need to answer it, since they had already arrived.
