Shout in the Dark (39 page)

The words made a strange greeting but he
was unable to contain his astonishment. Canon Angelo had been a
Christian and Laura said she was Catholic. He knew Laura's mother
was Jewish by birth, but he'd not expected to see the six-pointed
star of her faith above the fireplace. But there was no Menorah and
no picture of Jerusalem. This was probably the home of a nominal
rather than a devout Jew.

Laura must have noticed him staring rather
too closely at the faded furnishings, and she looked
awkward.

"
This is how Mamma wants it to be, Marco. I'm always
threatening to buy new furniture but she prefers it as it is. It's
the Rossetti family home. Once upon a time all these apartments
were full of Jewish families." After a slight pause she added,
"Until the war."

"
Laura's a good daughter, Marco. She wants nothing but the
best for her Mamma." Signora Rossetti smiled and showed no
resentment to the hasty remark about her faith that probably
sounded more like an accusation than a statement. "Laura's father
was Jewish by birth, so do not be surprised that he had many Jewish
friends like me, Marco. He was a very loving man."

If she intended two meanings, Signora
Rossetti's eyes did not betray the fact. Marco felt overwhelmed by
thoughts of the past, but he could understand something of the
thread of love running through wartime families in Italy, binding
them tightly together. Christians sheltering Jews, and Jews risking
death for one another. In demonstrating his part in this thread of
love, the Canon had surely shown a devotion that exceeded the
commitment required of a priest.

"
I knew your ... knew Canon Angelo." His heart skipped a
beat. What had he been going to say? Husband? Lover? Boyfriend? It
was difficult to find the right words.

"
He was a good man." Signora Rossetti made Canon Angelo
sound no more than an acquaintance.

Laura went close to her mother and
adjusted one of the cushions. "Marco has come to look at Papa's
letters. You promised to show them to us."

Marco wondered just how the family had
worked. Laura and Signora Rossetti must have lived in a single
parent relationship, for surely Canon Angelo would not have been
able to keep his post at the Vatican while living here. Yet Laura
referred to him as Papa. Well, a loving man would have wanted the
family provided for. Perhaps he'd left enough money for Laura to go
to college for her journalism.

There had been occasional whispers of such
scandals, running like fire through the college. Strangely, scandal
became more defensible when the characters turned out to be real
people rather than figures of gossip. Laura's mother was speaking
to him.

"
Tell me about your work, Marco. I've always been interested
in the clergy."

"
Take your time," said Laura. "I'm going into the bedroom to
phone Riccardo at the paper."

KARL READ THE brass plate beside the
doorway. This building belonged to a religious order of Sisters
with a very long Italian name. He wanted to ask them to phone him
at his hotel as soon as Sartini returned, but he
couldn
't speak the
language. He parked the little Fiat at the top of the piazza, where
he grew tired and hot-tempered. He knew that if the
stradale
knocked on the window to tell
him to move on, there could be trouble.

He reflected on how quickly the spiritual
vision had come. Two days ago he'd been nothing more than a hired
hand -- a nobody in
Achtzehn Deutschland Reinigung
. And now he was the one chosen to make use of the
relic. It was all part of his father's prophecy. It must be some
sort of divine revelation.

Sacrificial Priest? He was appointing
himself to the position.

He smiled. Such a
Held
must think nothing of heat and suffering -- even
in a foreign land. He opened his last beer. This afternoon he would
get hold of some more money and try to find a German
brew.

LAURA SPOKE QUIETLY into her cell
phone.
"Riccardo, I'm
sorry Marco seemed so anti this morning. He'd made up his mind you
couldn't come with us, so I had to agree."

"
That's okay. Play along with him. Without his help, we
can't trap the rest of Enzo's group. Do you still fancy
him?"

Laura felt herself hesitate for a moment.
"No, I don't think so."

"
Then pretend you do. Stay with him until we know where that
jam pot is. Then you can drop him. In the meantime, play on his
emotions."

"
What do you mean, play on his emotions?"

Riccardo laughed. "Undo your top buttons
and lean forward so he can see inside. And sit with your legs
crossed so he can look up your skirt. Lead him on a bit. Let him
think he can have it with you any time he wants."

"
He's not like that, Riccardo."

"
All men are like that," insisted Riccardo. "He's been
married, hasn't he? I bet he misses it. Tell him all he has to do
is raise a finger or something, and you'll oblige. I'll make it up
to you in bed later."

"
Riccardo, you're sick."

MARCO WAS BY the window, looking into the
central courtyard when Laura came back into the room. She blushed
red as she gave him a friendly smile. He wanted to rush over and
hug her. The top button of her blouse had come undone and he felt
aroused. He was glad that Riccardo had taken the hint and decided
not to come. His dislike of Riccardo Fermi might be jealousy, but
whatever the reason he wanted to be alone with Laura.

Laura reminded him so much of Anna. His
feelings for Laura were growing deeper each time they met. Her legs
were not as slender as Anna's, but they looked good.

KARL SAT IN his rental car and waited, his
thoughts turning again to future plans. He felt sleepy after that
revolting Italian beer. In his hand he held his favorite
possession, the Göring dagger. He attempted to lessen the boredom
by balancing it by the point on the end of one finger. The
sacrificial knife.

Only through sacrifice is it possible to
have power.

The teachings of the Führer were a
favorite declaration of faith at the ADR training weekends. This
one would also be his, the personal motto of the new Chief
Priest.

He watched the sun glint on the graceful
blade. His father had given him the future. The prophecy was
already coming to pass. The sacrificial knife. What power had
inspired such a beautiful object?

Chapter
34

Signora Rossetti
's apartment

"
HE PHONED ME to say he was going to Paris. He made it sound
urgent."

Marco turned quickly from the ornate
sideboard. The dusty photographs and the showy ornaments were of
little interest anyway. He had been hoping to see a framed
photograph of Canon Angelo, perhaps arm in arm with the old lady.
"When was this, signora?"

"
Oh, I do so like visitors."

Signora Rossetti reminded Marco of an
overweight canary as she chirped away, ignoring his question. Maybe
she was trying to inject some interest into a life of loneliness in
this cage.
"You have
many friends, Laura. How tragic to hear about Bruno's death. Of
course, I never did like that man. Too old for you by a long way."
She paused for breath.

"
Mamma, you always think of my friends as
amanti
-- as candidates for
marriage."

"
Now, now, Laura, you'll be embarrassing young Marco
here."

Laura laughed, rather unkindly Marco
thought. "He's not my
amante
.
He's a priest!"

"
So you said, my dear, but I wonder if perhaps the wheel is
going round in a full circle." Signora Rossetti said the words
without expression, with no hint of humor.

Marco decided to break the silence that
followed. "Laura wants me to help with her work." Was that all he
could say? Could it be that Laura felt nothing for him? No, that
was impossible. The ready smile, the occasional friendly gestures.
Laura was being cautious in front of her mother, although the way
she had arranged her skirt as she sat cross-legged in the chair
opposite was provocative. He could give up his calling if... He
tried not even to think about such a move.

Married to Laura? Signora Rossetti would
become his mother-in-law and this apartment would be a second home.
He wanted to kick himself for letting his imagination run away with
absurd fantasies. No wonder Origen, tormented by passion and sex in
the third century, was believed to have taken a knife and castrated
himself. He winced at the thought. Such an action was far too
extreme. But it was impossible to contemplate a relationship with
Laura -- unless they shared a common faith. Her father would have
wanted it that way.

"
Please clear up a puzzle for me, Laura. Your father was a
Catholic, your mother here is obviously Jewish, but you told me
you're a Catholic. Is that true?"

Signora Rossetti held her hands up. "Laura
my child, what have you been telling this young man? You are as
Jewish as your old mother."

Laura seemed ruffled. "I may have said
something about being a Catholic, Marco, but does it really matter?
I'm not Jewish and I'm not Catholic. My religion says people get
what they deserve." She wagged a finger at him. "And I know two
people who have already got what they deserve."

Whatever response he gave, Laura would say
it was a sermon. He'd be wise to pass for now on her bizarre
declaration of faith. "Okay, so I know why you didn't recognize the
New Testament quotation in the letter." He looked at Laura and
laughed, hoping to restore some order after the sudden
outburst.

Laura became defensive. "I told you,
Marco: Jewish or Catholic, does it really matter?"

"
It doesn't stop us working together." He had to say
something more. "But, yes, it matters."

Laura was silent for a moment, then she
smiled unexpectedly and came over to stand close. "Marco, I want us
to be friends. Don't let's have a silly argument."

"
It's not silly to me. One day I'd like to have a sensible
talk about what I believe. In the meantime we can still be
friends."

"
That's good." Laura took hold of his hand, though not very
positively.

"
Of course you can both be friends," chirped Signora
Rossetti. "Our family has always had friends in the Church. My
father, Ben-ami Rossetti, was a great friend of Israel Levi. Our
two families spent many happy times together … until the Germans
came to Rome. After the war I returned alone to this apartment from
a Nazi concentration camp in Poland, to find all my family and
friends gone. Angelo was the only surviving Levi in Rome. He heard
I was back and came from the Vatican to look for me. When he found
me we became very close -- as I'm sure you've already guessed,
Marco." And she winked.

At last there was an indication of humor,
a warmth about the old lady. Life had not taken her sense of
mischief away. Whatever storms she had ridden, the past had been
unable to keep her down. It amazed Marco that a person could live
through such wartime distress yet have the capacity to survive and
bounce back into the present world. Laura let go of his
hand.

"
Signora Rossetti, you said Canon Levi phoned you to say he
was going to Paris." Somehow it seemed correct to refer to Angelo
Levi formally.

"
And so he did. But as soon as he got back to Rome he went
to meet someone in Saint Peter's. That's when he was killed. There
wasn't any connection of course, or so the
carabinieri
said. The letters are a very precious part of my
life, but there is no point in keeping them private for ever. Laura
has already shown you one of them. It was very brief and it told me
so little. Just that nonsense about the Living and the dead. I
wondered at the time what it could mean. There was a piece of
paper. Like old parchment. Angelo thought it proved the
authenticity of the relic. Augusto got angry. They argued about it.
Augusto said it would be most unhelpful if anyone saw it. He said
there had been enough trouble between Christians and Jews in the
Church's history."

"
Where is the old parchment now?" Marco had to
know.

"
I've not seen it since the head went missing.
Perhaps..."

"
The letters, Mamma," interrupted Laura.

Signora Rossetti bent down beside the
ornate sideboard and pulled her skirt high, revealing bulging
thighs and a network of thick varicose veins. He found himself
wondering if Laura's lovely legs would one day end up like this.
From the cupboard she removed an old tin decorated with a painting
of red and cream roses. She picked up the top letter and handed it
to Laura.