The Angel of Milan (21 page)

             
“Oh, what have we here? I see, yes, I see.”

             
He let go as suddenly as he had taken it. He seemed to struggle with his breathing for a moment. Dinard did not seem the least bit alarmed. I assumed he had witnessed this before.

             
“What do you see, Rabbi?” I probed. 

             
“I see blood and brutality. To this man, I will say nothing... However, I also see truth and a noble heart, and to that man, I will tell him what I can. Take my hand again, let your mind relax, and focus on those things you wish to know about. Are you willing to do that?”

             
As I said before, psychics are not people I ever put my trust in. Their proclamations hardly ever reveal useful information, and the source of their utterances are suspect. However, this was a devout Jew. Their law is quite specific regarding the avoidance of sorcery and oracles. It was unlikely he would commune with an unclean spirit.

             
“Speak the truth to me, Rabbi, do you have a familiar spirit guide?”

             
“You are wise for a priest, Adama,” he said, with a chuckle. “In answer to your question, no, I see only visions, no more, no less.”

             
“Has Father Dinard told you anything of the things I wish to know?”

             
“No.”

             
“Then we can proceed. Here is my hand.”

             
“Very well. Do not speak, and do not ask any questions. I will tell you all that I see,” he said while taking my hand.

             
This time, his grip was gentle, and he seemed at ease. I tried to clear my mind, and focus on Del Cielo.

             
His face turned questioning, and he remained silent a long moment.

             
“Victorio Del Cielo, how interesting, Adama. Victorio Del Cielo… Victorio Del Cielo… Aerrlion… Victorio… Aerrlion… Del Cielo… Nothing more, there is a void around this man. Something else, yes… a woman, perfect in form. I see you with her, Adama, you have been with her.” Again, he chuckled.

             
His breathing increased, and he was stressed again. A look of surprise came upon his face, and his brows became hooded over his eyes. “She stands with Victorio Del Cielo.

             
“She holds something in the palm of her hand… a golden coin, perhaps… I cannot read the inscription. The coin, it is, yes…it is holy…my God! It falls from her hand…into the hand of an angel with wings spread wide over its head… The angel stands before an Egyptian obelisk…a Greek temple…Trajan’s Column… Death and sorrow surround him!” He abruptly pulled his hand away from mine, rubbing it as he sat back in his chair, exhausted. 

             
“Are you alright, Rabbi?”

             
“A moment, please,” he said, out of breath.

             
If Dinard had indeed told him nothing, then this Rabbi was a legitimate visionary. There was no probing for clues, no statements of the obvious. No assurances that my long-departed mother forgives me and still loves me. What a crock of crap those types of proclamations are. It should come as no surprise to anyone that their mother would forgive and love them always. Finally, the old man came around.

             
“I am alright now. The visions take much from me these days. It was not always this way.”

             
“Rabbi, what is Aerrlion?”

             
“It is a name. Your Victorio Del Cielo has another name, Aerrlion
.

             
“What does that mean?”

             
“I don’t know, I only saw another name. It was very strange. I clearly saw him, but I could see nothing else around him no matter how hard I tried. That has never happened before.”

             
“Does that tell you anything about him?”

             
“No, nothing. I can only tell you what I see, no more, no less. My visions provide no inner meanings. The picture is what it is and nothing more. However, the woman with the holy coin…such a wonder. This is the object you seek, and she is the possessor of it, that is a certainty.”

             
Alessandra! Could that really be? Was that the reason she became upset when I told her Del Cielo seems to know who has the Lot? Why was she so fearful? What role did she play in this? I had a flood of questions, and while the puzzle now began to have form, many pieces were still missing.

             
“Rabbi, you said the coin fell from her hand to an angel with wings spread high. He was standing in front of an Obelisk, a Greek temple, Trajan’s Column, and death and sorrow surrounded him. What does that mean? Trajan’s Column is in Rome; is the coin in Rome?”

             
“I did not see Rome. I saw Trajan’s Column. All I can tell you is what I see.”
             

             
“How can all these things be in the same place? I think you got some wires crossed there, Rabbi.”

             
“Adama!” Dinard exclaimed. “I know this place!”

             
“How could…? Never mind, out with it, where is such a
place?”

             
“Cimitero Monumentale!
13
The cemetery here in Milano. It is entirely filled with some of the most magnificent examples of Italian sculpture and large, ornate tombs. Why, it even has a Jewish section. Adama, I definitely remember seeing a scaled down version of Trajan’s column there once!

             
“My apologies, Rabbi. You stand vindicated.”

             
Dinard was ready to go off to the cemetery immediately, and I had to remind him that it was now night and very dark in the cemetery. Our chances of finding the right angel in the dark were very slim. Not to mention the fact that it was after visiting hours, and I doubted he could climb the gate. Morning would come soon enough. He reluctantly concurred, particularly about climbing the gate.

             
“Father Adama, what will you do with the object, if you find it?” the Rabbi asked.

             
“I don’t know, Rabbi. For the first time, I really don’t know. Is there anything more you can tell me?”

             
“I told you all that I saw.”

             
We stayed a while longer with Rabbi Rabinovici, and shared pleasantries over a glass of Dinard’s medicine. I warned the old man not to discuss what he had seen with anyone, as it could be dangerous. Without going into detail, I explained that a number of people had already been killed over this, and it would not do to get involved. He seemed to appreciate the warning of danger, and assured me that the vision would die with him.

             
When we left the apartment, it had indeed grown dark in the streets. Dinard was uncharacteristically quiet.

             
“What’s the matter, Father? You seem quite distracted by your thoughts.”

             
“I was just thinking, I must meet this perfect woman who has seduced you. You would do well to eat more like me, and maybe such beauty would leave you alone.”

             
I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. This is what had him so distracted? Then he broke into loud laughter.

             
“Come, Adama, we must get back and I will fix you a large sandwich to take to your quarters tonight,” he said seriously, before breaking into uncontrollable laughter again.

             
Somehow, I knew I had not heard the last of this…

10
             
             
             
             
             
Finally, it looked like my search for the Atonement Lot was about to bear fruit. Regretfully, it was also beginning to look like I had slept with a brutal killer. Oh well, birds of a feather…

             
If Alessandra really did hide the Lot in the cemetery, then she must have killed Crochi to get it. The only thing hindering my conclusion was the method by which Crochi was killed. I couldn’t imagine her overpowering the man with such butchery.

             
I had a fretful night waiting for morning to come before going to Cimitero Monumentale. A consolidation of several city cemeteries, the Monumentale was placed outside the city, but now the growing metropolis had reached and enveloped it. Walking from St. Andrew was out of the question. We would have to go to the piazza and take a taxi. I recalled having seen pictures of the place many years before. It is actually a tourist attraction for those visiting Milan. I personally had no desire to go there, my opinion being that the place was a paramount display of Italian mellow dramatics. To each their own, I guess.

             
I was up early to shower and dress. A sixth sense told me to carry the HK inside my waste band. I had learned long ago not to ignore little premonitions of trouble.

     I found Dinard downstairs talking to the old snake in the parlor. He was giving her last-minute instructions regarding the setting out of lunch for the others in his absence. The moment she saw me, however, she repeated the sign of the cross several times to make her point. She quickly stormed out of the room, mumbling hell and damnation again while looking over her shoulder at me. Dinard was a bit taken aback by the display, but managed a smile, asking me what that was all about. Not wanting to stoke his fire, I told him she just didn’t like me.
             
             

             
“I would say she takes great displeasure in you, Adama,” he said, in an understated manner.

             
“Never mind the old snake, she is full of venom. Are you ready to leave?”

             
“Yes, most assuredly.”

             
“What have you got there in the canvas bag?”  

             
“Why, tools, of course. It is just a small pry bar and…some sandwiches and two apples.”

             
What else could I have expected? We were obviously going on safari as far as Dinard was concerned. I wasn’t sure about the necessity of the pry bar, but the food may very well prove critical if his lunch bell rang.

             
We walked down the avenue towards the piazza to get a taxi. We were only a few hundred feet from the rectory door when that sixth sense slapped me in the back of the head again. I turned around to see the old snake hurry down the rectory steps, and down the avenue in the opposite direction.