Brunetti gave a negative double grunt Behind them, from the direction of the gates, the sharp double bleat of the police siren ripped through the air. Both men turned towards it, listening to see if it drew any closer, but the noise seemed to remain stationary. Brunetti got to his feet.

'Pucetti?' Vianello asked, thinking it unlikely that the local police could have got there so quickly.

For a moment, Brunetti was willing to set out towards the villa in search of whoever it was that had fired at them, but then the sound of the siren slipped into his consciousness again, and good sense intervened. "Let's "Let's go back' he said, turning towards the entrance and starting towards it, the path studded by the ranks of raised flowerbeds. 'He's probably called for help' go back' he said, turning towards the entrance and starting towards it, the path studded by the ranks of raised flowerbeds. 'He's probably called for help'

They kept close to the hedge, and even when it curved sharply to the left and thus out of the line of fire from the villa, they kept inside of it, both of them reluctant to set foot on to the gravel path. Only when they were within sight of the stone wall did Brunetti feel safe enough to push his way, not without difficulty, through the thick branches and back on to the path.

The gates were closed, but the police car was now parked directly in front, its pa.s.senger door touching the gates and effectively blocking the exit.

When they got to within a few metres of the gate, Brunetti called out, shouting above the continuing sound of the car's pealing siren, 'Pucetti?'

An answering call came from behind the car, but there was no sign of the young policeman.

'Pucetti?' Brunetti called again.

'Hold up your gun, sir,' came Pucetti's voice from behind the car.

Understanding instantly, Brunetti raised his fist into the air, careful to show that he was still holding the revolver.

When Pucetti saw it, he came out from behind the car, his own gun in his hand, though pointed at the ground. He reached in through the open window of the car, and the noise of the klaxon stopped. In the sudden silence, he said, 'I wanted to be sure, sir'

'Good' Brunetti answered, wondering if he would have thought to eliminate the possibility of a hostage situation. 'You call the locals?'

'Yes, sir. There's a Carabinieri Carabinieri station outside of Treviso. They should be here soon. What happened?' station outside of Treviso. They should be here soon. What happened?'

'Someone started to shoot at us as we were walking up the driveway'

'You see them?' Pucetti asked.

Brunetti shook his head and Vianello said, 'No.'

The young officer's next question was cut off by the sound of a new siren, this one coming from the direction of Treviso.

Above that noise, Brunetti called out the numbers of the gate's code, and Pucetti punched them in. The gate started to swing open, and even before Brunetti could suggest it, Pucetti got into the car and angled it back, then drove it halfway through the gates. He pulled the front sharply to the left and turned the car so that it would block the gates with its front fender while still allowing them enough room to pa.s.s through the gates on the other side.

The jeep that pulled up behind their car held two Carabinieri. Carabinieri. They stopped behind the police car and the driver rolled down his window. 'What is it?' he asked, directing the question at all three of them. Thin-faced and sallow, he sounded quite calm, as though it were an everyday occurrence to be asked to respond to a call that the police were under fire. They stopped behind the police car and the driver rolled down his window. 'What is it?' he asked, directing the question at all three of them. Thin-faced and sallow, he sounded quite calm, as though it were an everyday occurrence to be asked to respond to a call that the police were under fire.

'Someone up there started shooting,' Brunetti explained.

'They know who you are?' the Carabiniere Carabiniere asked. This time his accent was clearer. Sardinian. Perhaps he was accustomed to answering calls like this. He made no attempt to get out of the vehicle. asked. This time his accent was clearer. Sardinian. Perhaps he was accustomed to answering calls like this. He made no attempt to get out of the vehicle.

'No,' Vianello answered. 'What' difference does that make?'

They've had three robberies out here. And then there was that kidnapping. So if they saw someone coming up the driveway, it makes sense they'd start shooting. I would.'

'At this?' Vianello said, rather dramatically pounding his open palm on the chest of his uniform jacket.

'At that,' the Carabiniere Carabiniere shot back, pointing to the revolver that was still in Brunetti's hand. shot back, pointing to the revolver that was still in Brunetti's hand.

Brunetti interrupted them. 'We've still been shot at, officer.' He bit back saying anything else.

Instead of answering, the Carabiniere Carabiniere pulled his head back inside the jeep, wound up the window, and picked up a cellular phone. Brunetti watched him press in a number, and from behind him Pucetti whispered, pulled his head back inside the jeep, wound up the window, and picked up a cellular phone. Brunetti watched him press in a number, and from behind him Pucetti whispered, 'Gesu bambino.' 'Gesu bambino.'

There was a short telephone conversation, and then the Carabiniere Carabiniere dialled another number. After a moment's pause, he started to speak and went on speaking for a while. He nodded twice, pushed another b.u.t.ton, and leaned forward to replace the phone on the dashboard. dialled another number. After a moment's pause, he started to speak and went on speaking for a while. He nodded twice, pushed another b.u.t.ton, and leaned forward to replace the phone on the dashboard.

He opened the window. 'You can go in now' he said, gesturing beyond the gate with his chin.

'What?'Vianello asked.

'You can go in. I called them. I told them who you are, and they said you can go in'

'Who did you talk to?' Brunetti asked.

'The nephew, what's his name?'

'Maurizio' Brunetti volunteered.

'Yes. He's up there, but he said he won't fire again now that he knows who you are.' When none of them made a move, the Carabiniere Carabiniere urged them, 'Go ahead. If s safe. They won't shoot any more.' urged them, 'Go ahead. If s safe. They won't shoot any more.'

Brunetti and Vianello exchanged a glance, and then Brunetti signalled with his hand for Pucetti to remain by the car. Saying nothing to the Carabiniere, Carabiniere, the two men went back through the gate and again up the gravel drive. This time, Vianello looked ahead of him, eyes sweeping from side to side as they moved away from the gate. the two men went back through the gate and again up the gravel drive. This time, Vianello looked ahead of him, eyes sweeping from side to side as they moved away from the gate.

Neither man spoke as they moved up the driveway.

From around the curve ahead of them, a man walked into view. Brunetti recognized him instantly as the nephew, Maurizio. He was not carrying a gun.

The distance between the three men closed. 'Why didn't you say anything?' Maurizio called out when he was still about ten metres from them. 'I've never heard of anything so stupid. You force open the gate and start up the drive. You're lucky neither of you got hurt'

Brunetti recognized bl.u.s.ter when he heard it. 'Do you always greet visitors that way, Signor Lorenzoni?'

'When they break open my gates, I do' the young man answered, corning to a stop directly in front of them.

'Nothing's broken' Brunetti said.

'The code is' Maurizio shot back 'The only people who know the code to the gate are members of the family. And whoever broke into the villa'

'And the men who took Roberto' Brunetti added in an entirely conversational voice.

Maurizio didn't have time to disguise his astonishment. 'What?' he demanded.

'I think you heard me, Signore. The men who kidnapped Roberto'

1 don't understand what you mean,' Lorenzoni said.

The rock' Brunetti explained.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'The rock that blocked the gates. It weighed more than ten kilos'

'I still don't understand you'

Instead of explaining, Brunetti asked casually, 'Do you have a licence to carry a revolver, Signor Lorenzoni?'

'Of course not,' he said, making no attempt to disguise his mounting anger. 'But I do have a hunting licence.'

That, Brunetti realized, would explain the thick shower of pebbles that had spurted up at Vianello's feet. 'And so you used a shotgun? To shoot at people.'

'To shoot towards towards people' he corrected. "No one was hurt. Besides, a man has a right to defend his property.' people' he corrected. "No one was hurt. Besides, a man has a right to defend his property.'

'And is the villa your property?' Brunetti asked with bland politeness.

As he watched, he saw Lorenzoni bite back a sharp response. When he did speak, all he said was, It's my uncle's property. You know that.'

From back towards the gates, they heard an engine roar into life and then the sound of a vehicle driving away, no doubt the Carabiniere, Carabiniere, tired of waiting to see what would happen, and happy to leave it to the Venetian police. tired of waiting to see what would happen, and happy to leave it to the Venetian police.

The pause served to give Lorenzoni time to recover his self-possession. 'How did you get in?' he demanded of Brunetti.

'With the code. It was in the report of your cousin's kidnapping.'

'You've got no right to come in here, not without a judge's order.'

That sort of ruling is usually applied only when the police pursue a suspect illegally, Signor Lorenzoni. I see no suspect here. Do you?' Brunetti's smile was entirely natural. 'I a.s.sume your shotgun is registered with the local police and the tax paid on your hunting licence?'

I'm not sure that's any of your business,' Lorenzoni shot back.

'I don't like being shot at, Signor Lorenzoni.'

'I told you I wasn't shooting at you, only towards you, to warn you off.'

During all of this, Brunetti had been thinking ahead to Patta's inevitable response, should he come to learn that Brunetti had been caught making an illegal entry onto the property of a wealthy and influential businessman. 'Perhaps we're bom in the wrong, Signor Lorenzoni,' he finally said.

It was evident that Lorenzoni didn't know whether or not to read this as an apology. Brunetti turned away from him and asked Vianello, 'What do you think, Sergeant? You over your fright?'

But before the sergeant could answer, Lorenzoni suddenly stepped forward and put his hand on Brunetti's forearm. His smile made him look much younger. 'I'm sorry, Commissario. I was alone here, and it frightened me when the gates opened.'

'Didn't you think it might be someone in your family?'

It couldn't be my uncle. I spoke to him in Venice twenty minutes ago. And he's the only one who knows the code now.' He dropped his hand to his side, stepped back from Brunetti and added, 'And I kept thinking of what happened to Roberto. I thought they'd come back, but for me this time.'

Fear has its own logic, Brunetti knew, and so it was possible the young man was telling the truth. 'We're sorry to have frightened you, Signor Lorenzoni,' he said. 'We came out to have a look at the place where the kidnapping happened.' Vianello, reading Brunetti's mood, added his own encouraging nod to this.

'Why?' Lorenzoni asked.

'To see if anything's been overlooked.'

'Like what?'

'Like the fact that there have been three robberies here' When Lorenzoni offered no comment, Brunetti asked, 'When did they happen, before or after the kidnapping?'

'One happened before. The other two happened after. The last one was only two months ago'

'What was taken?'

'The first time all they got was some silver from the dining room. One of the gardeners saw a light and came in to see what was going on. They went over the wall'

'And the other two times?' Brunetti asked.

'The second happened during the kidnapping. That is, after Roberto disappeared but before the notes stopped coming. We were all in Venice. Whoever it was must have come in over the wall, and this time they got some paintings. There's a safe in the floor of one of the bedrooms, but they never found it. So I doubt that they were professionals. Probably drug addicts'

'And the third time?'

That happened two months ago. We were all out here, my uncle and aunt and I. I woke up in the middle of the night -1 don't know why, perhaps something I heard. I went to the top of the steps and could hear someone moving around downstairs. So I went down to my uncle's study and got the shotgun'

'The same one you used today?' Brunetti asked.

'Yes. It wasn't loaded, but I didn't know it at the time' Lorenzoni gave an embarra.s.sed smile at this confession and went on, 'I went to the top of the stairs, turned on the downstairs lights, and shouted down to them, to whoever it was. Then I went down the stairs, holding the gun in front of me'

That was brave of you,' Brunetti said, meaning it.

'I thought the gun was loaded.' 'What happened?' 'Nothing'

'When I got halfway down the steps, I heard a door slam, then there were noises out in the garden'

'What sort of noises?'

Lorenzoni started to answer, paused for a -moment, and then said, I don't know. I was so frightened I had no idea of what I heard.' When neither Brunetti nor Vianello expressed surprise at this, he added, 'I had to sit down on the steps, I was so frightened.'

Brunetti's smile was gentle. It's a good thing you didn't know the gun wasn't loaded.'

Lorenzoni seemed uncertain just how to take this until Brunetti put a hand on his shoulder and said, 'There aren't many people who would have had the courage to come down those stairs, believe me.'

'My aunt and uncle have been very good to me,' Lorenzoni said by way of explanation.

'Did you ever find out who it was?' Brunetti asked.

Lorenzoni shook his head. 'Never. The Carabiniere Carabiniere came out and looked around, even made some plaster casts of footprints they found under the wall. But you know how it is,' he said with a sigh. 'Hopeless.' Suddenly realizing who he was talking to, Lorenzoni added, 'I don't mean that' came out and looked around, even made some plaster casts of footprints they found under the wall. But you know how it is,' he said with a sigh. 'Hopeless.' Suddenly realizing who he was talking to, Lorenzoni added, 'I don't mean that'

Brunetti, who believed he did, waved the remark away and asked, 'What made you think we might be the kidnappers? Come back, that is?'

All the time they were speaking, Lorenzoni had been slowly leading them back towards the villa. As they rounded the final bend in the driveway, it suddenly came into view, a central three-storey structure with two lower wings flung but to either side. The blocks of stone out of which it had been built glowed a soft rose in the weak sun; the tall windows cast back what little light there was.

Suddenly remembering his position as host, Lorenzoni said, 'Can I offer you something?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Brunetti caught Vianello's badly disguised astonishment. First he tries to kill us, and then he offers us a drink.

'That's very kind of you, but no. What I would like you to do is tell me anything you can about your cousin.'

'About Roberto?'