Massaro gave a little salute, got back into the Land Rover and drove off at top speed. Fabrizio headed straight home. He was utterly exhausted, but very agitated at the same time. The idea of another mangled body had totally unnerved him. He couldn't help but connect what he'd seen in the coffin with the violence that had just occurred in some lonely corner of the Volterra countryside.

He took out his phone and dialled Francesca's mobile number.

'Where are you?'

'I'm near Colle, almost at the motorway. Why?'

'Thank God you're all right.'

'Why?'

'They found another one, quarter of an hour ago.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Another corpse, maimed like the first one. Massaro told me he's missing his face, or his head a I don't remember.'

There was no answer from Francesca.

'Can you hear me?'

'Yes, I can,' replied the girl. 'I'm appalled.'

The call was cut off; she had likely moved out of range. But Fabrizio felt a little better. Francesca was at least thirty kilometres from the scene of the killing. His first thought was to call the carabinieri and ask whether the body had been identified. He was ready to swear that it would be another of the three robbers who had opened the Rovaio tomb, but he realized how stupid that sounded. He was ashamed at how foolish the idea seemed, and how incongruous it would look for an archaeologist to be raving about Etruscan curses.

Finally he arrived home. He dissolved some instant decaf in a cup of milk and sat down to work at his computer. He put on some music, started up a graphics program and began uploading the photos he'd taken of the statue of the boy in room twenty of the museum. He integrated the X-rays with the three-dimensional images generated by the program and began to rotate the figure in space, trying to make sense of the strange shape he'd noticed inside the bronze.

It was after midnight when he became convinced that the shadow he'd seen in the X-rays represented the outline of a knife. The blade of a knife that had penetrated deep into the boy's body!

He shook his head repeatedly, as if trying to banish an idea that had started to eat away at him, then got up, walked around the room and went to the refrigerator to fetch a glass of water, trying to set his thoughts straight. He'd arrived only three days ago but it felt like he'd been sucked into another world. He was losing control over his emotions and he realized that his usual manner of rationally approaching a find or a research topic was being shot to hell with this crazy whirlwind of events. His anxiety was growing and his sense of reality felt distorted.

He went back to the computer screen to watch the image of the boy that continued to rotate in the virtual space generated by the machine as if he were floating in a timeless limbo.

What could this mean? What was that intrusion doing inside the statue and how could no one have noticed it before now? How had it been inserted, and why? Was there a reason why? Could it be a clue, or a message? If so, who was the message from, the artist or the person who had commissioned it? Unfortunately, as far as he was aware, nothing was known about where the statue came from, or in what context it had been found. His only option was to ask Balestra for permission to perform a metallographic probe, if he wanted to get to the bottom of the question and publish an article with sound documentation. Hopefully the director would be grateful to him for his work on the Rovaio tomb and would allow him to go ahead with the analysis. Just a few milligrams of material would be sufficient to let him know if he was right. He decided he'd ask for authorization explicitly the next day.

There was still one thing left to do. He connected the digital camera he'd used to take the shots of the bone fragments from the tomb, copied two or three of the photos into a file and attached it to an email to Sonia Vitali, along with an explanation.

Hi, Sonia I'm in Volterra, where the regional NAS director has put me in charge of excavating a third- or fourth-century Etruscan tomb. I've just finished and a get ready for this a I have reason to believe it's the grave of a Phersu! Along with the human bones I found the skeleton of an animal a a wolf, or a dog, I'm guessing a of enormous proportions. Offhand I'd say about a metre ten tall at the withers and more than two metres long from snout to tail. The fangs are six or seven centimetres long. I'm attaching some pictures so you can have a look and would ask you please not to mention this to anyone. If you're interested in a closer examination, I don't think Balestra would object to you studying the skeleton and publishing it. I'll leave you my phone numbers. Let me know what you think.

Fabrizio He felt calmer now and was about to get up and go to bed when the phone started ringing. In the deep silence of the night, the insistent trilling sounded ominous to him and alarming. An unpleasant sensation of solitude and insecurity surged through him. Logically, it could be Francesca or Massaro or maybe someone from Finanza headquarters, but Fabrizio had a gut feeling it was somebody else. He picked up the receiver and a voice he'd already heard said, 'Don't disturb the child's peace. Get out, if you know what's good for you.'

'Listen,' started Fabrizio, talking as quickly as he could. 'You're not scaring me. I . . .'

But there was no use continuing. His caller had already hung up.

Fine, he thought to himself. He'd ask Reggiani to put a tap on both telephones, the museum number and this one, and on his mobile phone as well. He let himself relish the thought of a face-to-face meeting with this crazy lady who thought it amusing to make such ridiculous threats. She must be calling him because she could see the lights on, or maybe she could even see him sitting in front of his computer screen. If only he had a dog!

To be on the safe side he closed the shutters, turned off the computer, went to the wall, took down the shotgun a an automatic five-round Bernardelli a and loaded it with five cartridges. Then he walked towards the staircase to go up to the bedroom.

The telephone rang again.

He stopped for a moment, with his foot on the step, to collect his thoughts, then turned around and picked up the receiver.

'Listen, you bitch. If you think-'

'Fabrizio! It's Sonia! I'm so sorry, but I thought you'd still be awake!'

Fabrizio let out a long sigh. 'Oh, it's me who's sorry, Sonia. I wasn't sleeping, it's simply that . . .'

'I've just got back from a conference in Padua. I saw your email and I couldn't resist . . . So who's the bitch you thought you were talking to?'

'Someone I don't know. Someone who likes to break my balls by calling late at night and-'

'Listen, I've seen the photos a they are incredible! Are you sure about the measurements you sent?'

'Give or take a centimetre or two.'

'I just can't believe what I'm seeing. Do you really think they'll let me publish it?'

'I don't see why not.'

'Will you talk with Balestra?'

'Sure. But what do you think it is?'

Sonia fell silent for a few moments. 'To be utterly frank, I don't know what to say. I've never seen an animal that big in any of the scientific literature. It's a monster.'

Fabrizio's voice became apprehensive. 'A monster? What do you mean by that?'

'Only that I've never seen such a thing. Even now, say, a Caucasian Molosser, which is gigantic, is not that size.'

'Well, then, what the hell is it? I mean, you're the expert, so how do you explain it?'

'Hey, what's wrong with you? Why are you so edgy? Are you sure I didn't wake you up? Or did I . . . interrupt something?'

'No. Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. You're saying that you don't know what it is.'

'It looks like a canid, but I've never seen one so enormous. An expert is only an expert on what he's seen and studied, Fabrizio. You know that better than I do. All I can tell you is that I've never heard of such an animal, and neither has anyone else that I know of. I'd hazard a guess that it's a breed that's gone extinct and that we have no knowledge of or . . . a genetic mutation, something of the sort.'

'Right. That's a possibility, sure. Listen, try to make it here as soon as you can, and I'll talk to the director in the meantime.'

'I can leave tomorrow,' said Sonia resolutely.

'No, maybe not tomorrow. Give me a couple of days. I'll call you as soon as anything comes up.'

There was a moment of silence and in that very instant the howl that Fabrizio had heard the first night rang out loudly. A long, desperate lament that grew in force and intensity, exploding into the blood-curdling scream of a wounded beast. An atrocious wheezing that sounded nearly human.

Fabrizio stiffened as a feeling of sheer terror surged through his body.

Sonia's voice on the phone was full of anguish. 'My God . . . what was that?'

She'd heard it.

'I don't know,' replied Fabrizio mechanically. He then replaced the receiver and picked up the shotgun. It was locked and loaded.

5.

DR LA BELLA put out his cigarette in the ashtray, took his glasses off with a slow, studied gesture and began to clean the lenses with an immaculate handkerchief.

'Well?' asked Lieutenant Reggiani in an almost impatient tone.

'It's just as I said, my dear Lieutenant, isn't it? Remember? "If you don't find the animal I'll have more maimed bodies on my autopsy table." And here we are.'

'I want to know whether you're sure this death can be attributed to the same cause,' said Reggiani.

'I have no doubts about that,' answered La Bella, 'although that statement cannot be made with absolute certainty. Would you care to take a look yourself?'

He got up and walked towards the cooler.

Reggiani wanted to say no, he would not care to take a look, but he obediently followed the doctor. It was his job, after all.

La Bella grasped the handle of one of the drawers and pulled it towards him until the top half of the corpse, covered by a sheet, was out. He lifted the sheet.

'Dear Christ,' murmured Reggiani, looking away in disgust. 'It's worse than the last one.'

La Bella closed the drawer and locked it.

'Have you spoken to the public prosecutor?'

'You bet I have. He's been calling me every two or three hours to get an update on our investigation.'

'And what might that be?' asked La Bella mechanically.

'We don't know shit, Dr La Bella. That is the update. I have two corpses that have been ripped to shreds and not a single clue to go on. The story's bound to break, which means that in the wink of an eye this town will be besieged by a horde of reporters and TV cameras dying for a slice of the blood and mystery. Until now, I've managed to convince the prosecutor that it's best to keep this quiet to prevent the spread of panic. As luck would have it, the guy who found the second body has agreed not to spill the beans and I know I can trust my men. But I also know this can't last for long. It's bound to leak out. At the same time, I have to put maximum security measures into effect to protect local people. It's not been easy.'

As the two men neared the exit, La Bella stared into the officer's eyes with a discouraged expression and said, 'I know it's stupid to ask, but have you sent dogs out?'

'It's the first thing we did. But we didn't get anywhere. We used our best trackers, but it was crazy. They'd run off in every direction, double back, take off like wild things through the bushes and then come back again. Absurd.'

'I understand,' said La Bella. 'But you can't not warn the residents. They have a right to know, to take precautions, to protect themselves . . .'

'You don't think that's on my mind! Listen, at the start I was hoping that the first case would remain an isolated occurrence. That animal, or whatever it is, might have run off or ended up elsewhere, or have been caught or killed off, damn it. I'm about to go to the public prosecutor and submit my plan of action.'

'If I'm not being indiscreet, can you tell me what that plan is?'

'It's not that I don't trust you, Doctor, but I have to consult with the prosecutor first. Basically, we have to strive to achieve the impossible: inform the townspeople, ask the press to keep a low profile, solve the case by giving it all we've got.'

Dr La Bella patted him on the shoulder. 'I don't envy you, Lieutenant. Good luck. I've never met anyone in all my life who needed it more.'

REGGIANI got into his car with Sergeant Massaro and drove to the public prosecutor's office. The official was exceedingly agitated and didn't even ask Reggiani to sit down.

'Maybe you don't realize this, Lieutenant,' he began, 'but from one moment to the next this situation could slip totally out of our control. The government authorities may step in and take it out of our hands completely.'

Reggiani instantly lost his temper. 'That, God willing, is the least of my problems! They're not in harm's way and have plenty of their own headaches to worry about. As far as this situation is concerned, it has already slipped out of our control! We have two cadavers at the mortuary that have been clawed to pieces and no reason to think there may not be more coming.'

'That's impossible!' shouted the public prosecutor. 'It's only an animal, for Christ's sake. You've got dogs, vehicles, helicopters, scores of men.'

Reggiani lowered his head to hide his anger and took a deep breath before he answered. 'You see, sir, all of the means that you've just mentioned have been used without achieving the slightest result. I've put my best men out in the field and on investigations. This is not just any old case. There are other matters that concern me as well and I need your help.'

The public prosecutor nodded, with an air of condescension.

'I would like you to make a personal call to the directors of all the local papers and ask for a news blackout. I'm sure you can convince them that this is necessary due to the unique, extremely serious nature of the matter. I will arrange to inform local residents regarding the nature of the threat and the precautions to be taken. A lot of unverified stories are already going around. I'll tell them the truth. Luckily, this isn't a big city. There are a given number of families that must be informed. At the same time I will reorganize my investigation, starting from another angle.'

'What angle might that be?' asked the public prosecutor.

'I want to start from the tomb,' replied Reggiani. 'From the man who opened it and excavated it. I think that's where all this began.'

FABRIZIO took a bunch of keys from the hook and went down into the storeroom. Sonia had been so excited at seeing the pictures that she was eager to start immediately. He wanted to make sure that all the material would be ready for her to begin her work. If he got this out of the way, he'd be free to return to his own studies and forget about the rest. If that was an option.

He descended a couple of floors from street level and realized he was in the middle of the ancient city: tufa walls, old substructures in ruins, foundations made of huge blocks, surely from the Etruscan age. He switched on the light and walked down a long corridor covered by a barrel vault ceiling. On either side lay the dusty odds and ends typical of the cellars of the museums and NAS facilities all over Italy: chunks of marble and stone, column segments, fragmented sculptures waiting patiently to be restored, handles and necks of vases, floor tiles and boxes. Hundreds of boxes. Yellow and red plastic stacks, each with its own label reporting the name of the excavation, the sector and the layer where the finds contained inside had been found.

The materials from the Rovaio dig, except for the alabaster sarcophagus, which had been taken to another warehouse outside the city, were at the end of the hall, sitting on top of a shelf carved of stone which created a niche in the wall. Fabrizio laid a plastic sheet on the floor and started first of all to pick out the more scattered and splintered pieces of the human skeleton. He taped to the wall an enlargement of the digital shot he had taken inside the tomb, then switched on a portable mechanic's light and began to gather the fragments, one after another, piecing them together with difficulty, seeking the lines of recomposition of a body almost disintegrated by a ravaging fury.

He patiently reconstructed shoulder and collar bones, lined up the phalanges of the fingers which were strewn in every direction. Every now and then he would glance at the blown-up photo on the wall and that awful image, that horrible tangle of bones and fangs, created a mounting sense of anxiety in him that he tried in vain to overcome. His fingers seemed to move on their own, brushing the man's skull, part of the temporal bone still bearing a strip of the sack in which his head was enclosed during the cruel ordeal. The emotion that had been simmering inside of him exploded with uncontrollable force. Those bare bones electrified him, filled him with a clear, distinct vision of those atrocious moments: suffocated, breathless panting, the crazed beating of a heart gripped with terror. Fangs sinking into live flesh as the man screamed in pain, writhing about blindly, futilely wielding the sword tight in his fist. Blood that with every bite spurted out more copiously, soaking the ground, blood that made the animal more and more excited and aggressive, feeding its thirst for slaughter. He heard the sinister crunching of bones, yielding abruptly to those steel fangs, smelt the nauseating odour of intestines ripped from the man's belly and devoured still throbbing, while he was alive and screaming, shaking violently in the throes of agony.

Dripping with sweat, Fabrizio could not control the furious beating of his own heart, nor the tears that were pouring from his eyes and running down his cheeks, nor the convulsive fluttering of his eyelids, which were fragmenting that tragedy into thousands of bloody shards that were pricking every centimetre of his body and soul.

He cried out in a hoarse, suffocated voice, the scream of a man dreaming, and he had the impression that his cry had snuffed out the bulb, abruptly plunging him into the gloom of the underground chambers. But soon that silent darkness was pierced by a mournful dirge and became animated by shadowy, sinister presences: ghosts cloaked in black carrying a litter which bore the bloody tatters of a large dismembered body. Behind them growled the beast, its eyes phosphorescent in the dim light and its mouth foaming, held tight by ropes and tethers, yanking its keepers this way and that with immense strength. They were dragging it to its final destiny: to be buried alive with the human meal that would have to satiate it for all eternity.

Fabrizio screamed again and then, tired of fighting it off, let himself sink into a well of silence.

HE WAS unaware of how much time had passed before a light stung his eyes and a voice shook him fully awake: 'Professor! Professor! Good Lord, what has happened? Are you ill? Shall I call a doctor?'

Fabrizio got to his feet and wiped his forehead. The confused image peering out at him slowly took on the familiar features of a person he knew well: Mario, the security guard.

'No, no,' he replied. 'There's no need. I must have fainted. There's nothing wrong, I feel fine, I promise you.'

Mario looked sceptical. 'Are you sure? You look pretty awful.'

'Perfectly sure. I was working down here, but it's so damp and there's no air . . .'

'You're right. This is no place for you to be working.' The security guard lifted his eyes to the blown-up photo on the wall. 'Good heavens! What on earth is that?'