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Third folder: the man in his fifties looking for an anonymous lease for the purchase of a car.
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I hear the front door make a faint noise and I look to the far right: I see Maddalena entering, opening a gap of about fifty centimetres, quite enough to let her frail body slide between the jamb and the large shiny steel plate. She closes the door behind her and nods to Serena. She walks along the corridor, disappearing behind the plants, and showing again, after about twenty seconds, under the opening of the glass wall, reaching the desk on my right.
«Hi Maddalena, are you all right?» I ask almost whispering.
«Hi Lavinia, not too bad: I have a terrible headache, I couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.»
«Headaches are horrible» I reply quietly. «But did you take anything for it, like some ibuprofen or paracetamol?»
«No, medicines are poison. I didn’t take anything, God forbid: a few hours and it will go» she replies sourly.
«Yes, time heals everything» I reply smiling.
«There’s nothing to laugh about, anyway.»
«Sorry, Maddalena, I was just saying.»
I reopen Chrome, I start looking for some strange leasing company. I nonchalantly catch a glimpse of Maddalena out of the corner of my eye arranging her bag in the third drawer of the shelf. Before closing the drawer, she takes out his smartphone and places it scrupulously on a stand placed on her desk, just below the monitor: it is a plastic gizmo which I have always disregarded the usefulness, thinking that my phone is quite happy to sit on the flat surface of my desk. She then takes out the usual three small bottles and lines them up to the right of the useless stand, checking that the labels are facing the working position. She closes the drawer and sits down on the chair.
I asked her one day what benefits those three little bottles had and Maddalena told me about some plant extracts that have a positive influence on emotional imbalances, worries and health in general: one for sleep disorders, one for social anxiety and the other to overcome grief, if I am not wrong. After the explanation, I lost some interest in the exact use of the products and now I am amused at this daily ritual, repeated in the same way every morning when she arrives at her office. However, I noticed the colour of the bottles are continuously changed, which led me to think that even the distress these magical extracts are used for, can change quite frequently.
I scroll through the search results with little enthusiasm while, always out of the corner of my eye, I see her busy carrying out the second preparatory action leading up to the beginning of the working day: the extension and compression of the piston of the chair, until reaching the optimal distance between the seat and the floor. I straighten my back a little, I think I have never changed the height of my chair: a long time ago I had placed it in a position that suited to my height, and that was it.
«Lavinia, can’t you see that you too get a back pain sitting on these armchairs? You want to straighten up now: your bones have taken on a wrong posture and it will be difficult to get them straight back» Maddalena suddenly stammers.
I turn to her and look at her beige turtleneck sweater, paired with oversized hazel pants and a pair of hard to define brown shoes.
«Actually, Maddalena, I have no back pain: I have just straightened up a little because I was hunching my back under the weight of the useless research I am doing» I reply to her, looking at her with a smile.
«So, you were just teasing me because I can’t get the chair in the right position?»
«No, I was looking for someone for a lease, I wasn’t really watching you» I reply calmly. «Do you need a hand to get yourself sorted?»
«I don’t need help, I just want no one to keep moving the position of my chair.»
I watch her slender legs, which can be seen under the deformed trousers, not at all comparable to Serena’s, dangling from a height about forty centimetres higher than mine. «Now you seem a little too high to me: don’t you think you should lower it a little?»
«Yes, that’s a bit too much, but I can’t move if I pull the lever.» I get up and walk to Maddalena.
«By moving this upward, won’t you lower it down?» I ask, pointing to the lever on the right of the seat.
«No, look» replies Maddalena, shaking the metal bar.
«Strange. Sorry: try to pull it while I push you down.»
Maddalena pulls the lever, I grab her two armrests and push her towards the ground.
«Enough, that’s fine.»
«So, you’re okay?»
«Yes» she replies. «Aren’t you cold in that sweater there, Lavinia?» she then adds looking at me up and down.
«No, it’s always hot in here» I retort, as I sit back at my seat.
«Maybe, I’m still cold in this sweater. Besides, all that flesh well in sight, are you sure it’s okay?»
«Okay for what?» I ask turning to her.
«I don’t know, I wouldn’t go around like that all naked.»
«I have only my wrists and ten centimetres of forearms uncovered and the sweater is just slightly open around my neck: I don’t feel like I’m that naked.»
The next time, do it by yourself, I won’t help you anymore, poor psycho-depressed bitch, I think as I start scrolling the page again to look for a suitable company to grant a lease out of the usual paths. In fact, the disturbing individual told me in secret that all his cars, including his wife’s, are underwritten with the financial companies of the car manufacturers and he wants to avoid documents of new cars his spouse is not aware of, lying around the house. What he said sounded a bit confused at first, then it turned out to be quite clear: he wants to sign a finance lease for a car that will not be used by him, his wife, or by a person who his wife would like to meet. I scroll down the page again and arrive around the eightieth result. I go back to the initial search field and add, next to the term leasing, the words intermediary registration.
The first result now shows the name of a company that sounds completely unknown to me: I click and find myself on the registration form in the reserved area of a company whose name is incomprehensible and difficult to pronounce. I scroll down, I click and I am on a registration form of the restricted area of a company with an incomprehensible and unpronounceable registered name.
I scroll down, I click on FAQ, I run through the first trivial questions with the relative predictable answers and at the bottom of the page, I find out that in order to register as an intermediary or mediator, it’s enough to fill in the electronic form seen on the previous page, attaching the Chamber of Commerce registration and the identity document of the owner of the individual company that is about to register or that of the legal representative. With this type of access, the following FAQ grants the possibility of requesting contracts for one’s own customers and their complete management through the appropriate online website, getting rid of all the paperwork, according to the last timely response to the precise final question.
I smile staring at the screen, save the address in my favourites and I think I will submit the matter to Teresa as soon as I get the opportunity to see her.
2.2 LIFE - FOUR
It’s 10:35 am: I’m going, otherwise I will never get back.
I have to collect all the checks for the story of the unlucky building. It was Amedeo who brought them here, those people from that hateful company: since he began to hang out with them, his career as an agent has plummeted.
The idea he had about four years ago of starting off his own business was really appreciable. He had freed himself from the real estate agency for which he had worked for some time. At the beginning he had sold a few offices quite easily on behalf of some considerable companies and then he had begun to deal with several residential properties: some sales had allowed him to evaluate with some satisfaction the path taken and to look positively at the future of his sole proprietorship.
Then, I think I remember between 2014 and 2015, Ciapper arrived, with that cursed tower: twenty floors of offices to be rented, according to the phrase that I was told so many times, at prices suitable for the prestigious property. According to Amedeo, the building was well done as for the way it looked and for the purpose it had been built, but the required standards bordered on madness and, as he said some time ago sarcastically, before isolating himself in a depressive silence, no one could understand the choice of the name, Banano, which caused potential customers some sort of bewilderment, lexical as well as geographical: it reminded of a tree not really widespread in the Brescia area.
After getting the exclusivity for the office lease mediation, Amedeo not only did not make any deal, but he did not even get interested people to visit the offices: only a strange voluntary association, some time ago, wanted to visit the building to rent part of a floor, without then follow-up their visit. As the months went by, which then turned into years, he managed, with great difficulty, to convince Ciapper people to give up the exclusive and unsuccessful leasing idea and to put the offices up for sale too.
However, the change in the contract did not change the interest of the market in the building. So, what is the moral of the story? For Amedeo, the whole affair has turned into a real fixation. On numerous occasions, I tried to get him out of his deteriorating state of mind, but I always got the same answer: «We have to place all of that fucking Banano».
The unfortunate building over time has been taken over by the companies of the group: from construction to real estate companies, also passing through other corporate misadventures which I can’t even recollect in my mind. During the meeting organized by Amedeo which took place here in the office, the senior manager explained in brief for me the last, desperate, operation to be carried out: to give Banano back to the company that had built it.
The chairperson’s sad recount also made me aware of how even the construction company is not having a good financial situation, considering that the banks, according to what he was saying, have lending money.
In short, the dramatic account of Mr. Gustavo Ciapper, chairperson and shareholder in each company in the group together with the other brothers who are members of the Board of Directors, ended with the request to find willing financial institutions, in any way possible, to raise the amount necessary to give the building back to the construction company: ten million euros to get from somewhere.
I asked my colleagues for some advice, including Umberto and Giorgio, who turned out to be incredibly helpful, and I managed to put together six banks willing to finance the operation. They are not real loans: no bank has accepted Banano as a guarantee and not even taken into consideration that the construction company could act as a valid unsecured creditor, so any type of mortgage has been ruled out. We therefore had to resort to six lines of credit: pure madness.
Each institution requested a restricted current account with a deposit equal to the amount of the granted credit limit, thus forcing the brothers to open joint accounts with the six banks, for a total of ten million: I am not aware about what percentage of these amounts is taken from their personal assets; however, what the chairperson said made me think that the restricted amounts can be almost all of the savings set aside during a good part of their working life.
My success in finding the necessary funds for the operation, which I describe as self-destructive attitude, turned Amedeo’s face into a smirk which reminded of a smile. He then turned the instinctual expression on his face into a short sentence: «It wasn’t that difficult after all».
Try and raise ten million at the blink of an eye then, instead of staying in bed until ten in the morning... that is what I am thinking while I am staring at the desk. I also remember that the sale agreement of the property will take place in the afternoon and that someone from Ciapper, following yesterday’s agreements, will pop over around 15:30 to collect the checks.
So now I have to go and collect the cashier’s checks from the various banks and then I will leave everything with Serena before leaving the office. I put the pc on standby and take a nice folder with a hard cover from the drawer to collect all the bank securities. I leave the bag in the drawer, thinking that it can only weigh me down, since I don’t need either the office keys or the car keys. I quickly take out my identity card from my bag, struck by the idea that some meticulous bank employee might want to check my identification, and then I close the chest of drawers.
I get up, a little doubtful. Although I have just remembered that two banks are a little more far away than the others, I discard the idea of taking the car and look for an alternative solution.
«Lavinia, why are you standing still in front of your desk?» Maddalena asks.
«I was rearranging the route in my mind in order to collect some checks: I’ll get going now» I reply quietly, thinking that today she wants to piss me off. I bend down, I open the drawer again, then take out the prepaid card for public transport from my bag, and I then push the handle back to close it.
«Okay: I was just wondering why you are in front of the ray of sunshine that is filtering through the window and the rays of the sun this season and at this time are good for my poor health.»
«Sure, Maddalena, sorry, I’ll move right away» I reply, taking two steps back and slipping the card into my jeans pocket. «Sorry again, I am off, see you later.»
I reach the front office and smile at Serena, busy with what appears to be a complicated telephone conversation. She looks at me a bit puzzled, while I point to the wardrobe with one hand and then shake my arms, pretending to put on an invisible jacket.
She smiles and then nods.
Borrowing Serena’s fur coat, which can be recognized by its slightly eccentric synthetic fur, allows me to avoid a stop at the garage and save a few minutes.
When I get to the lift, I look at myself in the mirror: it is black and reaches down to mid-thighs; the synthetic fur is about ten centimetres long and is all ruffled. I feel the lining that touches the bare skin of my forearms: I get a sensation of synthetic heat all over me, while my nostrils are filled with a pleasant scent of cyclamen, which I recognize to be the same one that I often get off my colleague.
This fur coat is really nice.
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«Hello, I’m Lavinia from Sbandofin, I need to collect some cashier’s checks for Ciapper ltd.»
«So, you are Lavinia» replies the employee. «Hi, I’m Maria. I’ll go get them and I’ll be right back» she adds, getting up. After two minutes the girl comes back holding an envelope in her hands.
«Here they are. Can you sign here, please?» she says, sitting back down. I sign, grab the envelope, open the folder, put the envelope inside and close it.
«I’m off, then» I say looking at her. «Thanks, Maria, have a nice day.»
«Bye, good day to you too.»
I turn around, pass the mantrap, walk on the pedestrian crossing and continue following the road that goes down to the supermarket. I immediately notice my second stop in the distance, a bank I go to quite often for other transactions for Sbandofin which also has its own current account at this branch.
«Good morning, running errands?» I suddenly hear a voice echoing on my right.
The concierge of our building stands in front of me, going down the stairs of the building I am walking past, with a stack of boxes in his arms.
«Good morning Mauro. Yes, I’m going around a few banks.»
«I’m recovering the packages that the courier left in the wrong building» he mutters.
«How nice» I reply. «Does it often happen that they mix up the buildings?»
«Every now and then, yes: in their haste they leave everything to one concierge instead of the other» he replies and then continues: «That fur coat is beautiful, it looks like Serena’s».
Surprised by the statement, I look at him a little puzzled and answer: «Yes, I like it a lot too: we bought the same one, actually».
He seems to be inspecting me and I add quickly: «What perceptiveness, Mauro!»
«That’s what my job is about: to watch. Have fun in the bank» he replies, walking away.
«Goodbye» I reply, still hesitant. I start walking in the opposite direction and I think that, more than a keen observer, he seems to like minding other people’s business.
I go to the bank, take another envelope from the familiar employee of the first counter and put it back in the folder. I leave the girl, after an interesting conversation about today’s weather conditions that has taken away at least three minutes off my tight schedule, to get to the last branch of the first block of banks.
The rude cashier hands me a transparent envelope with two checks put in at random. He then informs me that he must proceed with my identification: I hand over the document and he scans it, while I put these checks in my folder. I take my ID from the fat hand stretched out towards me, I greet without any particular pleasantries and, as I go out, I realize how the subway stop is located in the square nearby. I decide to use that, to reach the two furthest banks. For sure, it’s faster than the 10 bus.
While I am waiting for the train, the folder in my hands begins to bother me. I open a button on my fur coat and place it inside, supporting it with my right hip and putting my hands in the pockets, which I think can benefit from a bit of comfortable synthetic warmth. When I reach the bottom of the lining, my index finger touches a cylindrical object. I inspect it with curiosity: it is a simple lip balm stick. I also rummage in my left pocket to make sure I’m not carrying items that I can lose. After realizing that there is nothing like that, I decide to put the stick in the safest inside pocket, which already has my smartphone, and in which I also place my rechargeable card and ID.
I hear a whistling sound coming from my left and I turn to look at it: the subway is on its way and it is slowing down, getting ready to stop. I take the folder out of my fur and I go in the half-empty carriage. I sit on the outer seat, placing the folder on my legs, while the electric vehicle takes off again and I think that in three or four minutes I should arrive at my destination.
I look around and, after making sure that the two people sitting on the far side are looking harmlessly at their smartphones, I open the folder: the two checks in the transparent envelope show, next to the letter to, the details of the recipient: Ciapper Real Estate ltd. in liquidation. Beside the word euro, printed in small letters, I read the inscription six hundred twenty-five thousand/00.
I open the other two envelopes, moving the tab aside and I see that the same details are there on all of them. Considering there are ten checks in the folder, I have with me over six million. Perhaps my state of mind would not be so nonchalant if I were the recipient of all the checks.
«Next stop, the train station» announces the automatic speaker of the subway.
Once I am out again, I am taken back by the crisp air: the sky is blue now and the fog has completely vanished. I huddle in my fur coat and walk towards the post office. In about five hundred meters, going around the building, I will already be near via Solferino. Up until yesterday I did not even know that there was a branch here. It is actually the only branch that can issue cashier’s check in the Brescia area.
Classic mantrap: I go in and notice three individuals queuing at the only open counter. I patiently wait for the account holders to carry out their business and, after about ten minutes, I introduce myself to the clerk behind the glass.
«The girl from Sbandofin is here to collect the checks» she whispers into the phone. She stays on the phone for a few more seconds, then she turns to me: «If you can take a seat, my colleague will come over in five minutes».
«Okay, thanks, I’ll wait there» she replies, bringing my right thumb over my shoulder.
I turn and head to three brown armchairs placed against the wall, next to the mantrap at the entrance, taking a seat on the one on the far side. I place the folder on the glass table placed in front of the armchairs, cross my legs and unbutton the synthetic garment that is wrapped around me.
Surely Serena’s fur coat is really warm. Almost as warm as her hug, when she has one of her sudden outbursts of affection and she hugs or kisses me for no reason. She is just like that: always carefree and joyful. I smile and think about her legs. Yes, maybe it’s true, before I was staring at them, but I can’t help it: I do the same with everyone. Besides, hers are so sensual. I look at the bare portion of my calf, which comes out of my jeans, a little crumpled due my sitting posture. I bend towards the lower part of my leg and touch the uncovered portion of my calf with my almost frozen fingers of my right hand: a shiver runs through me and ends up down my back.
«Hello Lavinia, I’m Marco, nice to meet you.»
The words that come to my left take me by surprise. I get up and shake the man’s hand. «Good morning Marco.»
«Here are the checks, everything else is taken care of. However, at some stage, the gentlemen will have to come over here to sign for privacy and money laundering» he tells me, handing me a grey envelope.
«Perfect. Yes, I’ve already mentioned that to them.»
«Good» he replies, staring at me.
He is an attractive man: tall, a little sturdy, streaked with grey, presumably around fifty-five.
«Can I get you a cup of coffee?»
«Thank you Marco, but by midday I have to be in another...» I reply and then I stop a little abruptly. «In an office in Corso Garibaldi: so, I’m forced to refuse.»
