Shout in the Dark (32 page)

He let out a long sigh. "Laura is just a
friend, Mamma."

Laura was not so useful now.
Antipatica!
The silly bitch claimed she
didn't know there would be a killing. What did she think they were
going to do -- smack the German driver on the wrist? Laura couldn't
agree to be involved and then stand to one side. Of all the three,
by losing her father, she had the deepest motive for
revenge.

"
Enzo Bastiani, or Manfred Kessel as you're calling
yourself, we're coming for you."

"
What did you say, my son?"

"
Nothing you need distress yourself about, Mamma. I'm going
out to see Riccardo."

"
You be careful, Bruno. He's a bad man."

"
Riccardo Fermi is a good friend, Mamma."

Riccardo was a killer. He had killed Otto
Bayer slowly with a knife as he screamed for mercy. Only then had
they hidden the Audi in the barn, tying the body to the steering
wheel. Riccardo wanted to set fire to the car with Bayer still
alive, still screaming. It would have been interesting to see
Enzo's reaction when he ran down the hill, drawn by the smoke and
the flames. But with Marco in the area, the risk was too
great.

Bruno laughed to himself. The fire had
gone well in the darkness, when he'd slipped back there to set
light to the car last night before the meal. The grasping farmer
had obligingly called the TV station as well as the
carabinieri
when he'd found the burned
body. Enzo and the skinhead Bretz would see the news on television
tonight, and they'd think their friend had fried to
death.

Local partisans! Brilliant! Riccardo was
right: there were partisans -- three of them -- aided by a young
priest who had no idea of his role.

"
Mamma, I have a plan. You will be proud of me."

The plan was perfect. He stood up and
clapped his hands. "
Buona notte
,
Mamma. I may be back late."

He gave his Mamma a long, long
kiss.

KESSEL SLAPPED
his thighs and laughed aloud. The last of several
phone calls to the Vatican produced an address for Marco Sartini,
although the woman in the staff office cautioned him that the
address might be an old one. According to her records the man was
about to take up a parish appointment.

"
Karl, you can go round later tonight and check out this
address. If the priest is there, get him to let you into his room,
and kill him."

"
Trust me." Karl had slept until the evening, but now seemed
back on form, apparently keen to get on with the work he had been
selected to do.

"
Make sure there are no mistakes this time. If you kill the
wrong priest, we'll alert Sartini."

"
Me? Make mistakes? I'm going to get some beer."

Karl banged his way from the room in a
huff. Kessel turned up the television volume and waited for the
headlines. The opening shot was from a camera zooming in on the
remains of a burned-out station wagon. The caption said
Monte
Sisto
. He knew at once
that the vehicle was an Audi, knew that the charred carcass behind
the wheel was Otto Bayer. He went to the sink to be
sick.

He sat in the chair and began to shake.
The pervert was dead. Evil was on the loose. He sat there for
nearly an hour, until the ring of the telephone made him
jump.

An Italian man's voice said, "Signor
Kessel? I expect you've heard about your friend's tragic
death."

"
I can't believe it. Someone killed him. Who...?"

"
I understand how you feel, Signor Kessel. Believe me, I'm a
sympathizer of
Achtzehn Deutschland Reinigung
here in Rome. You need not concern yourself. My
friends and I will make sure that justice is done. Otto gave me a
large package which is for you. Something he found at Monte Sisto.
Something you are looking for, he said. We can meet tomorrow
morning and I will hand it over."

"
I want to know..."

"
You ask too many questions, my friend. It is better that
you do not know too much. You can leave justice to us."

"
All right. Where do we meet?"

"
How about the Colosseum? Ten o'clock. We'll all be safe
there. Go up the stone steps to the top level. On the side facing
the cross in the arena, and wait for me."

"
How will I know you?"

"
Do not worry, my friend, because I will know you. Have your
young companion with you, but do not come before ten."

"
Tell me who you are." But the man at the far end had
already ended the call. He swore loudly. In Germany he could have
arranged for an electronic trace to be put on the call.
Unfortunately the ADR's powers did not yet extend to
Italy.

The object he was looking for at Monte
Sisto? There could be only one large object of interest from the
derelict monastery! He clapped his hands together. In spite of
Otto's appalling death, nothing would stop him going to the
Colosseum to regain his family property: the bronze head of Jesus
Christ.

He stripped off the bedcover Karl had lain
on earlier and stretched out on the bed. He could never be too
careful. But Karl had his uses in spite of his distasteful habits.
The boy would be back soon. He would have to be told about Otto,
and they would go out and rent a small sedan. With the relic in
their hands tomorrow morning, it might be necessary to make a quick
exit from Rome. Maybe go into hiding somewhere in Italy until
Otto's murderer had been caught -- until Phönix could be persuaded
to see sense. He checked his wallet again. The Gypsies hadn't taken
his driving license.

Chapter
27

MARCO HESITATED
before writing his report on the day's activities. Whatever the
reason for the burned body in the Audi, even if there really were
partisans still active in the area, he'd done the right thing in
telling the
carabinieri
.

As he wrote the report for Father Josef he
hoped that the
carabinieri
would keep Laura's name out of their press release as
they'd promised. If her name became public she could still be in
danger. Laura had been behaving oddly, but perhaps for good reason.
When he'd taken her Alfa back she'd refused to see him, saying she
was too upset by what had happened at Monte Sisto. He'd put the key
through the letter box and walked back to the Piazza di Santa Maria
Maggiore.

The last few days had been stifling, but
this was the hottest night he could remember for a long time, and
the noise of traffic seemed unusually loud. All he wanted was
sleep, but Father Josef had warned him not to neglect his spiritual
life. He knew he was rushing through each day without the depth of
personal prayer and Bible reading that had helped him in the past.
His ordered existence had taken a sudden, confusing turn with the
death of Old Savio.

Never get drawn into relics, Father
Marco.

It was a bit late now to heed the words of
a homeless man in the Piazza Venezia. But he could spend time in
prayer. Quickly he got on his knees, making the sign of the cross.
But his mind kept turning to the sight of the grinning, charred
corpse strapped to the steering wheel of the Audi. And to the kid
lying in pain in the bushes. Mo, the farmer said he was called. The
paramedics hadn't held out much hope for him. They thought his
skull had been badly fractured.

Most of all, Laura's admission affected
him more than he had realized at the time.

Canon Angelo was my father!

It was a shattering admission. A
well-loved and respected Canon in the Church of Rome had once had a
secret affair -- and the result was Laura. The revelation was still
hard to digest. And Father Josef seemed to know about Laura
Rossetti and her father, but had chosen to say nothing. What else
had the old priest not revealed?

Canon Angelo was a fallen angel. He was
seeing the Canon in a new and judgmental light. Father Josef could
be right
-- it was
definitely easier for God to forgive than it was for
man.

An unbidden vision of Laura swept away the
memory of the burned body. Rossetti must be her mother's name. It
would be helpful to have a close friend at times like this. Sharing
a bombshell with a fellow priest was beneficial, but to have a
woman to share with was so much better. He had shared many things
with Anna in their small apartment in the Piazza San
Cosimato.

Laura could never replace Anna, but Laura
had an innocence about her, a joy for life that he wanted to be
part of, even though this desire was in painful conflict with his
calling. He got up from his knees and sat on the bed staring at the
ceiling, as though to get inspiration from heaven.

Canon Levi had clearly been a good man,
although on at least two occasions he had stepped outside the lines
of acceptable behavior for anyone in the Church. First there had
been the affair. And then, later, the Canon had tried to sell a
fake relic. The lovely Laura was the result of the first
transgression; a vast sum of money for the needy had been the
motive for the second. Transgression or not, few men in the Church,
pillars of respectability, could hold a candle to the goodness that
had clearly flowed from Canon Angelo's life.

His intended time of prayer forgotten, he
stood up, sweating profusely from the overbearing heat. He looked
at the clock: just after twelve. Too late to phone Laura. He felt a
yearning for her but knew he was behaving stupidly. Forbidden
fruit? Perhaps this was what Laura meant when they stopped to pick
the figs. Was there such a thing as right and wrong if you really
wanted something badly enough -- if the goal was good?

There was no question of an intimate
relationship with Laura. But would a close friendship, and nothing
more than that, be immoral? Any daughter of Canon Angelo would have
to be a gift from heaven. He could unwrap that gift just a little.
The thought made his heart pump, and he began to check back through
his report.

As he finished the last page someone shouted
in the street. From his room he had a clear view of Signora
Silvini, the owner of the apartment block, opening her window
across the courtyard.

Under the light a large youth with a
shaven head called up. "
Sartini! Marco Sartini!
"

The voice had a German accent.

"
Go away!" scolded Signora Silvini. "Everyone here is
asleep!"

"
Marco Sartini!
" The skinhead was not giving up on account of the
signora.

"
I'm
Marco Sartini," Marco shouted down.

He was about to run downstairs and
confront the youth, when a
carabinieri
patrol car turned the corner. The skinhead jumped into a
small red Fiat and accelerated up the street in a screech of
rubber. The
carabinieri
car
stopped at the large house opposite and the driver rang the bell. A
young woman quickly appeared at the door and the driver went
inside. The youth had been frightened off by something as trivial
as the officer's regular rendezvous with Pippa, who everyone knew
as the local hooker. Marco pulled his head back into the room, a
thrill of excitement in his stomach. A German, a German skinhead.
Exactly like the one outside TV Roma.

He made sure his cell phone was handy.
Yes, the enemy had finally made contact!

He waited for over an hour, but the youth
did not return. It was long past time for bed and it looked so
comforting, even though it was empty.
He crashed down into it and was soon
asleep.

HE SAT UP QUICKLY. Anna was facing away
from him, slowly removing her clothes, her skin soft and beautiful.
She turned and it was not Anna at all: it was Amendola with bushy
eyebrows and heavy glasses.

"
Marco Sartini!
" Amendola shouted, pointing at the bed.

The bedside clock said almost six-thirty.
With dreams like this it was definitely time to get up. Dreams of
Anna being back were always painful. The events of last night
immediately filled his mind. The young German in the street had
looked like the skinhead outside TV Roma. Did Bruno know what he
was doing when he insisted that he keep quiet about the
photographs? The
carabinieri
could easily identify the men from the pictures taken
outside TV Roma. He would give the Bruno the benefit of the doubt
for two days, then he would have to give serious consideration to
passing the information on to the
carabinieri
.

The report on the trip to Monte Sisto lay
on the table, and he decided to deliver it to Father Josef
immediately -- to Father Josef Reinhardt, the self-confessed former
wartime member of the Nazi Party. He hesitated. Father Josef would
not be party to any conspiracy, but there were others in the
Vatican who might be guilty. People like Monsignor Augusto Giorgio
who wanted all investigations stopped at once. If the Monsignor was
involved with the local fascists, he could have sent the skinhead
round last night.