A COMPLICATED EXISTENCE

The first five chapters

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By the same author

 

CHRIST IN BROOKLYN

WOMEN

BEHIND

THE DOG LOOKING FOR ITSELF

 

 

 

 

To my daughters Carlotta and Natalia

 

 

 

 

 

The economy is a game of balls with loaded dice, whose laws are designed so that the "rich" always and only make seven and all the others a miserable two.

IRWIN SHAW

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A COMPLICATED EXISTENCE

 

Political and financial intrigues

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Novel

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter I.

 

In San Lorenzo, the capital of the small South American republic of Coreguay, the sun has just risen. 

In the gardens of the Escorial, Alvaro Castro's private home, the butler Felipe is picking roses.

In the fresh morning air, between the scent of the dew-soaked flowers and the chirping of the birds that greet the day, the gardens seem like a corner of paradise on earth, but the spell dissolves in a fraction of a second, when a stroke of firearm breaks that magical atmosphere, causing a cloud of multicolored wings to scatter across the sky.

The shot seems to come from the main apartments overlooking the rose gardens.

Felipe instinctively glances at the second floor, where, on the large terrace, he sees the window of Mr. Castro.

He leaves the shears and rushes to the palace.

He strides through the hall and runs up the steps of the wide staircase that leads to the master's apartment.

Knock on the door. No one answers.

Passing through a sitting room in the suite, he enters the room and sees, lying on the bed in a pool of blood, Castro still holding his Walter 7.65 pistol in his hand.

He talks to him, shakes him, unfortunately to no avail. Is dead. Felipe warns the police and also the lawyer Ector Mendez, one of the family lawyers, to inform him of the incident and to beg him to pass on the sad news to Mrs. Linda, Castro's wife, who is in Boston, his hometown.

The servants rush to the main wing and the palace is immediately filled with tears and cries of pain. The master was much loved. His servants have a deep and sincere affection for him, godfather for many of their children and grandchildren.

Felipe, gives all the servants the order to compose themselves and get ready for the police who soon arrive with two cars, under the command of Lieutenant Elizondo.

It is around 7.30 am on March 16, 2000.

The butler leads the lieutenant to the place of the incident and informs him that at the time of the master's death there was only the servants. The entire staff is gathered in the library, at the police's disposal for the usual ritual questions. All of them give their summary deposition.

No suspicion emerged from the interrogations. There is nothing that can explain the gesture.

Castro had no enemies, he was an important man, a great gentleman, a philanthropist, dedicated to charitable works  and as far as Elizondo knows, this is quite the truth.

Some officers collect the depositions, and others survey and take photographs. 

In the building, the precise and punctual work of the police is being carried out in full, pending the forensics.

Meanwhile, photographers and journalists have flocked to the place.

There are people who come and go. The waiters serve coffee to all the attendees. More than at a crime scene, it feels like being in a hotel lobby.

Attorney Mendez was not long in coming. The lieutenant immediately asks him a series of questions, but the answers add nothing to what the servants have already said.

The lawyer, like the other people questioned, seems genuinely confused and disoriented. He too is unable to give an explanation, confirming that Castro had no worries whatsoever, much less health.

After this last deposition, Lieutenant Elizondo has nothing to do but stop the work of the journalists, seal the door of the room where the suicide took place and wait for the magistrate to arrive.

The next morning, the widow Castro, who arrived from Boston in the middle of the night, is at the San Lorenzo police building. Beautiful, blonde, in her early thirties, elegantly dressed, albeit in a modest manner, as the circumstances demand, she is sitting in a sitting room waiting to be received by the lieutenant.

It shows a cold, detached attitude, not marked by pain.

Much younger than her husband, in the two years of marriage she lived most of the time in Boston, far from her husband, with whom she rarely met, mostly at social and official events.

It was Castro himself who had wanted this. He had wanted a beautiful wife to show off in public and on a few other rare occasions, thus keeping all his autonomy intact, without interference, without the obligation to be a full-time spouse.

Between the two there was a very specific marriage contract, which left little to love and much to appearance.

The lady's behavior is therefore fully justified and no one expects to see her in trouble in the role of grieving widow.

Elizondo receives her and asks her some questions, but the suicide still remains a mystery, because the widow does not make statements that make the lieutenant more informed than he already is and after having provided elements regarding his private life, absolutely irrelevant for the each other, leave the police station.

A few days later, the magistrate, as there are no other facts that allow new investigations, closes the case, dismissing it as suicide.

 

 

 

Chapter II

 

After almost twenty years of career Luis Barranco, reporter of El sol, the pro-democratic newspaper of San Lorenzo, has not managed to make a name for himself in the journalistic world.

He has not married, he has chosen to remain free, believing that he has a greater chance of success doing a job, where there are no schedules, no parties, no programmable holidays, but despite these renunciations, he must bitterly admit that he was not able to create himself. his own space in the world of journalism, much less having achieved economic security, which gives him the guarantee of a peaceful future and the prerogative of leading a comfortable life.

These are his thoughts while he is in the shower. After leaving the bathroom, he makes a coffee and gets dressed to go to the newspaper.

Like every morning he goes to the newsstand. He buys newspapers that he browses here and there, just to keep up to date with the news. The Castro case was closed, quickly, without investigation.

Nobody bothered to wonder why such a high-ranking man disappears from the world like anybody and Alvaro Castro was not just anybody.

His sudden death, devoid of any explanation, is disturbing and not studying the reason seems unthinkable.

Castro's stay in Coreguay, which lasted just five years, began in mystery and always found its epilogue in mystery. How can such a story fail to arouse interest? Many people would like to get to know this man better, who passed through the country like a meteor.

Why not tell her story? And why couldn't he be the one doing it? Telling the story of the billionaire and giving meaning to his death is not only a duty to report, but it could also be a good opportunity to get out of anonymity. With the right information, Barranco knows he can  do a good job.

The exploits of the rich and successful people always appeal to readers.

The same day, he telephones the widow Castro, asking her to be received, because she intends to write an article about her husband, who died so tragically, well-liked, loved by everyone, a friend of the powerful and famous for his philanthropy.

The widow, considering this proposal a dutiful homage to her husband's memory, grants him an appointment for the following day.

The next day, in advance of the scheduled time, Barranco is at the Escorial, a sumptuous 17th century palace of refined Castilian architecture, decorated by plasterers and painters of the Velasquez school, specially brought from Madrid.

The journalist is invited to take a seat in a large hall, with a ceiling frescoed with mythological scenes and walls covered with mirrors set in precious baroque frames.

The floor, all a game of inlays admirably executed with colored marbles, is occupied only by a few sofas and large lounge tables, above which ivory sculptures, ceramics, and silver of excellent workmanship are on display. Two huge Venetian Murano chandeliers give the environment, already sumptuous in itself, a sense of great wealth.

While Barranco, sitting comfortably on one of the sofas, is thinking that his entire apartment could fit in less than half of that room, Mrs. Castro makes her entrance.

Tall, with her short blonde hair and green eyes, she is beautiful. She wears an ice-colored silk dress, with the skirt reaching just below the knee. On her delicate hands, with tapered fingers and manicured nails, there is only a subtle wedding band. The arms and neck are also free of jewels. The lady flaunts only on her ears, two emeralds set in the day that elegantly match the jade of her eyes.

Its bearing is haughty and sweet at the same time. Confident and friendly, with a dazzling smile that highlights perfect teeth  enclosed in a stupendous mouth, it goes towards Barranco, while a slight, unmistakable  Chanel perfume no. 5  spreads in the air.

Barranco thinks he has never seen such a beautiful and refined woman, a woman worthy of a king, such as Alvaro Castro.

With an impeccable kiss of the hand, Barranco pays his respects to the beautiful lady. They sit down and start talking about her husband.

The reporter asks several questions, but the widow, answering, says the same things already  reported to the police.

Realizing that with that news, he will not be able to write anything original, Barranco asks permission to visit the building, hoping to find some inspiration for his journalistic piece.

The lady offers to accompany him on his visit and walking through the various salons and lounges, they stop at the door of the library.

“The library was my husband's favorite place, the place where he spent most of his time, where he read, listened to his music and even worked there. From here Alvaro followed his public and private affairs. He only used his firm to receive lawyers and business consultants, which, believe me, are quite a few. "

Barranco senses that in the library perhaps he will be able to find some clues that will put him on the right path. If Castro spent a lot of time there, there will certainly be something interesting.

"Madam, would you let me see you?" I think it would be useful for me to better understand the personality of her husband, whom I have not had the privilege of knowing.

You know, an object, a book maybe or I know a record, can reveal a lot of a person's character. "

"If you wish, please take a seat!"

Barranco, opens the door and after giving way to the lady, enters.

In the library, among the shelves of books, paintings, sculptures and furniture, there is even a white canvas screen.

"Excuse me ma'am, did your husband have films shown in here?"

«Yes, Alvaro was a great fan of cinema, especially he liked French noirs. He used to say that to make a good detective film, you don't need to resort to special effects and those unlikely shootings you see in American films, but everything has to be simple and simple.  linear,  because gangsters, precisely because they are such, do not like complications, nor tangled situations that require patience and time, preferring instead direct and immediate actions, where the fact is consumed in a few minutes with a couple of well-fired gun shots.

These are the specific and peculiar characteristics of French noir, don't you think? "

Barranco nodding: "I agree with you, I also like French films very much, it is no coincidence that Jean Gabin and Alain Delon are among my favorite actors."

Among the many things present in the library, one more than the others arouses the journalist's interest: periodical newspapers.

On a table, stacked, there are several Italian magazines. Many and of all kinds. There are politics, finance and current events.

Barranco is intrigued.

«Forgive me the question, why so many magazines and only Italian ones? Mr. Castro knew English and Spanish very well! "

«You see, Mr. Barranco, Alvaro was Italian and, according to him, more than television, the best way to keep up to date on the economic and social problems of his country was to read the newspapers.

He was a subscriber to various periodicals that were regularly delivered to him. "

"I understand, Barranco replies, and I'm sure the reason can only be this."

However, he is not entirely convinced, because it is good for gossip and current affairs, at least the Italian one, but not for finance. For this matter, the most authoritative newspapers are the English and American ones, but of these, there is not even one.

"Madam, I am an observer of Italian society and politics and since I know a little of the Italian language, would you allow me to take some of these magazines, perhaps among the most recent?"

"Take as many as you want, so much by now ..."

Barranco thanked the delightful guest and greeted her and went towards the exit of the house, taking with him six magazines, three on finance and three on current affairs.

 

 

Chapter III

     

Not much was known about Alvaro Castro.

He was sixty years old, and although he had only been in Coreguay for five years, in only such a short time he had managed to rise to the top of society.

He was a financier. He did business, played on the stock market, and had a huge fortune, which, since  standard of living he led seemed to be unlimited.

Its receptions, among the most exclusive in the country, competed in pomp and worldliness with those that the government gave for illustrious guests, such as heads of state and foreign diplomatic representations.

Passionate about hunting, he organized hunts, in which all the VIPs of Coreguay and other South American states participated.

Philanthropist, involved in the most important charitable associations, was present in all sports committees, from golf, to polo, to tennis, to the Yachting Club of which he was the most prominent representative.

He had a small fleet of private boats, which he used only for his personal pleasure.

He was a member of the boards of many banks, and a very close friend of the President of the Nation.

His wife, as well as for her beauty, was famous for her jewels and for her highly sought-after wardrobe, which every season she renewed in Italy and France by the most famous designers.

The most authoritative families of the state were proud to have the friendship and benevolence of Castro.

It was said that being his guests meant being people who arrived.

He enjoyed very high protections.

  In his house one could meet eminent members of the government, the chief of police, magistrates, illustrious prelates, industrialists and other billionaires like him.

He was a privilege of the system.

This was Castro, or rather this was the Castro of the last five years, but his past was unknown to anyone and nobody knew anything else about him.

A character without a past. It was only known that he was of Italian origin, but there was no information about his life spent in Italy, nor was there anyone who could say where his huge financial resources came from. 

A man born out of nowhere.

Barranco, of the missing billionaire, knows only this and nothing else.

At home, the journalist carefully leafs through the periodicals taken at the Castro house, starting with the financial ones, with the intention of finding some information on the activities of the deceased or at least some details that connect him to Italian or South American finance.

He checks the stock market news, trade, multinational mergers, in the hope of seeing his name there, but to no avail and, in this regard, he thinks that Castro, being a financially high-level man, has operated through companies that do not necessarily have to lead his name.

At his newspaper, the Chamber of Commerce, the Ministry of Labor and other institutes responsible for the purpose, Barranco inquires about the financier, trying to find out who his companies are.

Alvaro Castro is a multi-billionaire, but he has no company. His fortunes appear to stem from the stock market, as this appears to have been his only commercial occupation.   

The journalist, completely absorbed in the research on the economic activities of his man, which he believed were the key to the reading of those financial magazines, shows no interest in the others and forgets them.

He totally re-immerses himself in his usual job, without thinking about Castro anymore, having failed to discover anything about which  write, then one day, while  in the living room  watch television, abandoned on a table  he reviews the magazines and absentmindedly picks up one of the three he hadn't looked at, the topical ones. The magazine talks about facts about the VIP personalities of Italian society, about the usual things: parties, receptions, award ceremonies, love affairs, betrayals, divorces, practically gossip, nothing special.

After leafing through it here and there, he closes it and puts it back in its place.

Note, however, that in one place the pages do not fit together perfectly. 

At that point there is the typical deformation of the layout that is formed when the rotogravure is folded, back to back, for easier reading.

There, there is certainly news that Castro has read.

The intrigued journalist tries to understand which article may have aroused the reader's interest, but the undertaking is not easy, in those pages there are several small articles.

He takes another magazine that has the same deformation and finds only one article, all dedicated to an Italian family named Gallo.

He reviews the first magazine and among the various small articles, he finds one with a few lines about the same family. He takes the third periodical and here are two full pages in which he talks about Sonia Gallo, one of the young women of the dynasty.

Three newspapers and all three report episodes of the Gallo. It can't be a coincidence, but he wants to deepen!

He needs to consult other magazines and telephones Mrs. Castro to ask if she can receive it.

In a few minutes he is at the Escorial and since in the previous meeting he had been given the opportunity to take away all the newspapers he wanted, he does not hesitate to ask for more.

The very kind lady as always, a waitress makes him fill a bag.

Barranco, after informing Ms. Castro of the article she is writing about her husband and who, before publishing it, will submit it to her, in order to have her consent to its disclosure, thanks her for having been received and leaves.

With the examination of the periodicals, a professional adventure begins for the journalist that will lead him where he never expected to arrive.

Putting aside the financial journals he doesn't care about, he begins to scrutinize  those concerning the facts of manners and worldliness, in search of articles on the Gallo family. He finds many and of various kinds. 

Some talk about the billionaire life that the Gallos lead, others about their finances which are considerable, still others about their political friendships and ties to the financial world.

The hypothesis of being on the right track is becoming more and more real and confirming this, Barranco observes, analyzing the periodicals, that of these there are only a few numbers and since Castro, being a subscriber, must have had them all, evidently he had kept only those that interested him and coincidentally in all, just in all, the preserved copies, we always talk about something about the usual family.

He immediately realizes that he is on the right path.

Those continuous updates on the events of the Italian family cannot be simple coincidences, but must be pieces of a vast and intricate mosaic and conceal, beyond the news they bring, secrets and  interesting truths.

Barranco has to reconstruct Castro's life, find out who he was and what he did before arriving in Coreguay and the Gallo family seems to be the only link between him and his past, but to start an investigation, one must always start from a point firm, unequivocal and the only island of certainty, in this sea of mystery, is that inexplicable suicide.

Another day is over. 

Barranco feels tired but happy to have achieved an unexpected result.

He allows himself a last whiskey in front of the night news and goes to bed.

 

 

 

Chapter IV

 

Early in the morning, Barranco goes to the Police Department and asks for agent Pedro Gonçalves, his friend, to whom he often turns for news to publish.

«Good morning Pedro how are you? Your wife? Children? All good? I'm here because once again I need your help. You know that Castro, that suicidal billionaire that has been talked about so much. Who knows, maybe I ask too much, but it would be essential for me, for a trace that I am following, to know the list of things found in the room where the body was found. Do you think it can be done? "

"Why not? As long as you are content with just reading it. I absolutely can't make copies of you, but if it's about seeing it, giving it a peek, as long as it's between you and me, that's okay. Wait for me here and don't get noticed so much. I'll be right there. "

After a few minutes the policeman presents his friend with a folder.

“In here is everything that is known and has been detected. We see. Not this one ... not even this one ... but here is the complete list of objects found in the suicide room.

Have a quick look! "

Barranco, as if he were in the presence of a beautiful woman, nervous and excited, scrolls the list and among the many things listed, he sees that there is also Tutti an Italian current affairs magazine of which he already has other issues, taken away from the house of Castro, however, there is only the name of the periodical, neither the number nor the date of publication are reported.

Luis hopes it will be the latest edition.

"Thanks Pedro, I owe you a favor."

"If it were only one," the policeman replies in a friendly tone.

Luis leaves the police department and runs to the first newsstand. The newsagent tells him that the magazine is not imported, at least as far as he knows, but he informs him that there is a bookshop in the center, which, upon specific request of customers, he sends from abroad.  newspapers  which, normally, are not marketed.

Barranco goes there, asks about the magazine, and they tell him that they only import one copy for El pueblo, a local newspaper.

Until recently another one arrived and it was for Mr. Alvaro Castro.

In Barranco all that remains is to go to El pueblo and ask for a copy.

At the newsroom, there are people on the go, telephones ringing non-stop, computers on all tables and a lot of background chatter.   

Getting around in there is easy for Luis. He is a journalist and knows those places well.

With the skilled eye of the craftsman, he looks for the most affordable one among people and identifies it as a well-dressed man of about fifty, with the typical age-typical baldness and baldness, at first glance affable, peaceful and ready to chat. Approaches him.

«Hello colleague, my name is Luis Barranco, a journalist from El sol. I am doing a study on international journals arriving in our country.

I learned that your newspaper buys periodicals from Italy and I would be grateful if you could look at some of the ones you have, to get an idea of how they are structured.

I only need to look at the latest numbers that have come down to you, the ones you have at hand, just to realize how our European colleagues work. Can you help me?"

"Of course yes! My name is Emanuel Bigas. In the archive you will find what you need. We only buy three or four of Italian periodicals and no one ever reads them, so you will certainly find them available. Follow me!"   

On a shelf, sorted by publication number, there are various periodicals, among them, some Italian, one of which is Tutti.

"Listen Bigas, can I look at them calmly, or do I have to hurry?"

"Give it all the time you want, I'll leave you here and when you're done, come back to me."

Castro had died about fifteen days earlier and Tutti is a weekly magazine, so Barranco immediately excludes the last two issues and begins to leaf through the third from last. He turns the pages slowly, calmly, observing them carefully one by one and finally finds an article about Gallo.

Miss Sonia Gallo was seen in Durban, South Africa, a place famous for water sports, of which she is known to be a passionate practitioner, in the company of some unidentified friends.

This is certainly the last article that Castro read about Gallo.

An article that in itself does not contain anything particular, but which still confirms the fact that Castro had a particular interest in that family.

Without getting noticed, Luis leaves the archive with the copy of the newspaper and enters the editorial room, where, mingling with other journalists, with the utmost indifference, without being noticed, he goes to a photocopier. Copy a few pages and immediately return to the archive. He puts the magazine back in its place, returns to Bigas, thanking him for his kindness, and leaves the editorial office.

The hypothesis of being close to a big journalistic scoop is now becoming certain, having been Alvaro Castro a prominent man in the country, so that an investigation that fully reveals his true nature does not go unnoticed and devoid of interest in the ordinary people, always fascinated by the vicissitudes of the powerful.

By now there are no longer any doubts that there are links between Castro and the Gallo, but how far they go and what their origin is, is not an easy solution, but if very little is known about Castro, perhaps we can learn more.

In Coreguay, the available news about the family tends to confirm that they are people of great prestige and enormous economic resources, to the point that a financial crash of incredible proportions, which occurred a few years earlier, did not manage to change their billionaire standard of living.

In that news, even if there is nothing about Castro and no clue that puts him in relation to the Gallo, Barranco senses that he is right.

In San Lorenzo, however, information on events that occurred in a foreign country, several years ago, is not easily available.

Perhaps only in the country where the events took place, in Italy, will he be able to find elements for his research.

 

 

 

Chapter V

 

The next day Luis knocks on the door of the Editor of his newspaper and tells him about the case he is working on, informing him briefly of his recent discoveries.

The Director listens to Barranco very attentively and, when he reaches the end of his exposition, asks: «What do you think, boss, if I went to Italy to carry out more in-depth investigations and discover any links and possible financial connections between Castro and the Gallo?

Maybe there I will find the reason that pushes a man at the peak of success, with an extremely enviable life, to take his own life. "

«But, replies the Director, if the death of the billionaire had nothing to do with Italian events and your hypotheses were merely conjectures? You understand well that I cannot send you to the other side of the world, without something concrete in hand. " 

«It's right boss! And it's possible that I just have a lot of imagination, but a man of that importance still deserves some time to figure out what could have led to suicide. If you are a billionaire, you are in good health, you enjoy great popularity, you have a wife who looks fake for how beautiful she is and you are just sixty, does that seem normal to you? "

The Director is doubtful and reluctant to grant permission for the trip, but from the right arguments that Barranco submits to him, he cannot refuse.

There is a risk that nothing will happen, but it must still be taken. Failure is an integral part of any job and theirs is no exception.

Moreover, if some other newspaper were to move in this direction, coming to reveal sensational news and this eventuality exists, it would be a serious damage for El Sol, which despite having sniffed the scoop in time, did not take advantage of it and certainly the Publisher. he wouldn't be happy about it.

«All right Barranco, go to Italy, but you will have to keep me informed every day about what you will do and above all, if you want to have my support towards the Publisher, you will have to bring me concrete results immediately.

I can only give you a week. After that, if you haven't found anything important to work on, you'll be right back here.

We agree?"

«Thanks and you will see that you will not have to regret it. I am leaving in the evening.  There is a flight to Rome at 5.30 pm. "

"But ... I see you wasted no time," says the Director. “You are sure of your business and this frankly gives me confidence. I call the secretariat immediately to assign you an expense fund and please, a week, not a day more. Hello and have a good trip. "

El sol, a good newspaper, but of modest proportions, also because Coreguay, being small, cannot have many readers, it does not have fixed correspondents in foreign countries, such as the big newspapers, but makes use above all of news agencies and sometimes even publishes articles of freelance reporters. Therefore, Barranco knows that he cannot count on precise contacts in Italy, but he will have to ask for the support of some independent journalist to start work immediately, in the short time he has been granted.

In those hours that separate him from his departure, among the foreign correspondents who have worked for his newspaper, he looks for one who is Italian.

He finds some names, but they are essentially reporters who deal either only with politics or only with finance and he instead needs a colleague who moves everywhere, because he does not yet know where to investigate.

Note that a report from Italy, on the world of finance, which talks about Italian financiers and industrialists, bears the same signature as a piece on Italian fashion, recently published by El sol in Coreguay.

This could be the right person! A versatile journalist who is interested in various topics is exactly what Luis Barranco needs and luckily he also wants to be a photographer, or rather a photographer, because he is a woman: Claudia Angelillo, from Rome.

He asks the secretariat how he can get in touch with the journalist. They tell him they have her postal address, e-mail address and even her cell phone number.

In San Lorenzo, it is 11.10 in the morning, in Rome it is 6.10. 

If Angelillo is in Italy, wherever he is, he will now be asleep and maybe his phone is off, so much so that Barranco is unable to make contact.

It doesn't matter, will try later.

He goes home to prepare for the trip and makes a few calls to colleagues and friends to warn them that he will be away for a few days.

He goes to the bank to collect some money, still does some personal commission and it is already around 13.00, while in Italy it is 8.00 and perhaps Angelillo has woken up, but nothing to do, the cell phone is still off.

He has plenty of time to go and eat  at his usual restaurant and in the traffic to get there, lunch and a couple of cigarettes an hour and a half passes. 

The time is now 14.30. It should be a good time to call. Finally the phone rings. Barranco knows a little Italian and it is not difficult for him to make himself understood.

«Good morning Mrs. Angelillo, sorry if I disturb you. I do not have the pleasure of meeting you, my name is Luis Barranco, I am a journalist from El sol del Coreguay, for which you have collaborated with some services. I'm calling you from San Lorenzo. "

«Good morning», Angelillo replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Please excuse me madam for the morning hour, maybe you are still asleep, let me call you later"

“It doesn't matter, it's time to work now. I stayed up late last night. "

“I'm sorry to bother you in the early morning, but I absolutely need a connection in Italy and I thought I'd contact you.

I would be delighted if you could help me.  Everything has been decided today and since I will arrive in Italy in the day, this is why I am calling you now. I just hope he's in Rome. "

"Yes, I'm in Rome, but could I know what it is before I give you an answer?"

«I would like not to talk about it on the phone, Barranco replies, but believe the subject is very, very particular and I am sure it will be of interest to you. However, after I have explained everything to you, if you don't find the job you like, you can always say no. "

“All right, I'll pick you up at the airport. What time will it arrive? "

"At 20.30 Italian time, in Fiumicino."

"Good! I'll be there waiting for you. I'm a brunette and I'll be wearing a black raincoat. Today it's bad weather and it's raining.

To this evening.  Until we meet again"

"Goodbye lady, tonight."