Chapter 39 A Is Proposed #2
I took care not to move a single muscle in my face.
Unperturbed by my indifference to his compliment, Santini continued in his flawless English, in a tone that sounded as if he pretended to be impressed but wanted us to know he was pretending nonetheless.
“And no matter how very beautiful you indeed are, those rumours weren’t the most sensational I’d heard by far.
For example, it has been said that you can single-handedly send fifty furies to their death with nothing but a bow? ”
He didn’t take his eyes off me, their look that of a shark ready to devour its prey.
“I’d say seventy on a good day,” Einar corrected him with a wry humour in his voice, but Santini was not to be deterred.
“And you, Monsieur Andersen.” He fixed his sights on Einar as he switched seamlessly to using the French title. “Am I correct in my understanding that you have managed to unite settlements in all the mountain regions? Consisting mostly of visitors in our country, like yourselves?”
A cold smile stretched Santini’s thin lips, all traces of joviality vanishing from his voice. A minor spasm tugging at his arched eyebrow was the only indication of any emotion on his part.
Something creaked in the weeping fig’s branches above our heads, swaying to and fro in the warm seaside breeze. I shifted slightly on my seat to ease the protests of my tormented sedentary muscles, but Einar didn’t move at all. Not even as much as lifting a single finger, he hardly even blinked.
“That is right,” he said as if he had not picked up on Santini’s creeping wariness. “We did what seemed necessary to not just survive, but to thrive again. As a human race in general, quite irrespective of nationality.”
“Oh, quite. But still, it is quite something that you managed to bring together so many people of so very varying backgrounds. Not only that, but you convinced them to do things that some might term ... extreme. I’m not only talking about your mass fury extermination, but also about your successful siege of Bonifacio.
Infecting its prior inhabitants was, frankly, a stroke of genius. ”
Santini’s tone spoke clearly of words that its proprietor chose not to express out loud.
You’re ruthless, it said, but are you a threat to me?
Reclining back in his chair nonchalantly, Einar gave no sign of detecting the potent undercurrent that threatened to erode the pleasant, benign politeness of the conversation.
“And then, owing to your seizing Bonifacio, you managed to defeat a swarm of thousands of infected, am I right? It was very convenient for you to have this big fortress under your command?”
“It certainly made things easier.” Einar shrugged.
Angelo Rossi returned with a wine bottle and four glasses, pouring generously for each of us.
“To our esteemed guests.” Santini raised a toast, and we followed suit.
“Oh, it’s chilled!” I exclaimed in surprise as the pale liquid first touched my lips. “Oh, but that is divine!”
Our hosts chuckled, and the charged atmosphere seemed somewhat pacified.
“Tell me, what is your purpose in Corsica long-term?” Santini asked after a while.
We exchanged glances.
“There isn’t one,” Einar replied. “Beyond becoming known as the man who eradicated CanLys from this island.”
“If that’s the case,” Santini said with dubious placidity, “then it could be aligned with ours perfectly.” He paused, straightening himself up, and Einar put his glass down, leaning forward attentively.
“You see, our purpose,” Santini spoke, “is and always has been to return Corsica to true Corsicans. To free her from the government of foreign usurpers. Our numbers have only increased since the Outbreak, united not just by the necessity of holding together in these times, but also by our shared dream of seeing Corsica reemerge from the pandemic as an independent, liberated nation.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued, during which I pondered the implications of Santini’s statement.
I could see clearly now why he would approach us with both wariness and hospitality.
We were essentially an army of foreigners, governed by a dangerously charismatic leader.
That made us a possible threat to him on the one hand, but powerful potential allies on the other.
Our very lives possibly depended on us convincing him that we could be the latter.
“I suppose CanLys made things easier for you,” Einar speculated with only a hint of a thoughtful frown grazing his forehead.
“The French government collapsed all on its own, without you having to overthrow it. Even when it is re-established in mainland France, it will be years before they have time to worry about erstwhile offshore territories. You may have decades to firmly secure your own rule here in the meantime.”
“You are more than right, Monsieur. You see,” Santini continued, “this pandemic, tragic though it is, has undoubtedly opened doors on eventualities that hardly would have been possible otherwise. Of course, profiting from the fact that we had a large store of arms even before the Outbreak, we did do some overthrowing here and there,” he admitted with a smile that was as nasty as it was sincere.
Einar said nothing, but straightened back up, squaring his shoulders. I wasn’t sure if he did this consciously, but this subtle movement highlighted his size. I stayed quiet, sipping my wine.
“With our weapons, and the ones we obtained from those we made sure would no longer require them, we then managed to take back this city from the infected and establish the quarantine zone here. But now we are looking to reclaim our full territory. And have fair elections, of course, as soon as the situation permits. We, unlike some in the past, are no usurpers. But by the same token, to prevent history from repeating itself, we would like to ensure that only true Corsicans can be elected.”
“Naturally.”
“I would like to make sure, Monsieur, that this does not conflict with your own ambitions as far as our country is concerned.” Santini looked at Einar pointedly.
“Not in the slightest,” Einar assured him calmly with a wry smile. “Civil leadership holds no appeal to me.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. We could use your contribution when it comes to eliminating CanLys.”
A seagull flew overhead with a sharp cry, the echo of its flapping wings fading after a moment into the relentless lapping of the sea waves.
“I’d enjoy helping you with that. But, as I’m sure you understand, to secure the cooperation of the settlements currently under my leadership, I can only contribute to an arrangement that will appear beneficial to them.”
Santini regarded Einar coldly for a minute or so in complete silence.
“Precisely what did you have in mind, Monsieur?”
“I’ll tell them that, foreigners or not, they will be allowed to remain here indefinitely.
” All joviality gone from his face and his tone, Einar’s voice was hard as lightning, and his piercing blue eyes bore relentlessly into Santini’s dark ones.
“They will have access to the same healthcare, education, jobs, and services as anyone else. They will not be taxed differently. They will not be entitled to run for any election you may hold. But they will have the right to vote. And their children, those that have been or will be born here, will be considered Corsicans. I trust you won’t object if I tell them you intend to grant them those rights.
I want to think it’s not unreasonable to hope you might.
Whether or not you actually do, though, is a matter for your conscience. Not mine.”
Santini continued to look at Einar wordlessly for a few seconds more.
I took another nervous sip of my wine; I half expected Santini to pull up a gun from underneath the table and shoot us both.
But instead, he smiled. It was a calculating smile, but an encouraging one nonetheless, and I thought that I detected genuine relief in it.
“I won’t object in the least,” Santini agreed quite amiably after a moment’s consideration, that moment being conspicuously short for my liking. “I’m glad, Monsieur, that we seemed to understand each other so perfectly.”
Santini raised his glass in a toast, and Einar followed suit with a smile that didn’t come within inches of his eyes.
“And by that token, we would like to offer you the position of Chief General of our Anti-Infection unit. The proposition is simple. We shall provide you with more men and weapons, to a reasonable degree, and in exchange, you shall eradicate the infection from our island. For compensation in material goods. How does that sound?”
Einar said nothing at all. Reclining leisurely in his chair, he continued looking Santini straight in the face without giving any indication that he had heard him. Once the silence became unbearable, I shifted in my seat nervously and stifled a pained whimper.
“You’ll be doing what you’ve been doing until now, Mr Andersen. Except you’ll have more firearms and a generous wage. Are we agreed or not?”
Santini leaned forward impatiently, the threat in his voice only thinly veiled.
“Very well, Mr Santini. Aye, we’re agreed.”
Santini rewarded him with a curt, satisfied nod. With prodigious timing, a man in chef’s whites brought our pizzas over, and the atmosphere became notably less charged as we devoured our meal with enjoyment bordering on religious rapture.
“Now”—Einar stretched luxuriously, putting down his napkin—“if you wouldn’t mind, Mr Santini, I do have a small, personal favour to discuss with you. Would you care to take a stroll?”
Both Santini and I looked at him in utter surprise.
“Sure.”
“I’ll come with,” I volunteered and made to get up too.
“Oh no, no darling.” Einar’s hand closed around my shoulder as if to push me back down.
“It’s a private matter.” And with a devilish grin and a fiendish gleam in his eyes, he leaned closer to whisper into my ear, “You be a good girl and sit here on your pretty arse and think about what you’ve done. ”
Then, straightening back up as I blushed, he spoke as if into the air, but with the clear intention of getting Rossi’s attention. “Who knows, if pizzas and chilled wine were within their powers, perhaps our hosts could manage a double espresso for you. Your favourite, isn’t it?”
I shot him a mutinous look whilst Angelo Rossi scrambled up to bring me my coffee.