Shout in the Dark (48 page)

He had been in the building for nearly ten
hours now, relying on Erich and the gang outside to cause the
maximum distraction they could, without getting arrested. Thousands
of people were gathering in the street outside. Herr Kessel had
been right: the people would come. Leo sounded as though he was
putting on his best performance ever. Total Training. No more
failure. Sartini and the woman, here with him in the elevator. And
they didn't even know.

MARCO HELD THE box tightly.
He felt strangely anxious as he
reached out and pressed the button for the fourth floor. As Paolo
shouted his warning, Marco saw the long blade in the guard's right
hand. Then he realized who this large man was. Laura started to
scream as he struggled to protect her from the frenzied knife
blows. The large skinhead wearing security uniform was
insane.

As the knife slashed across his arm, Marco
kicked up hard between the man's legs. The German was vulnerable --
he'd proved it in Paris with the iron bar on the railway platform.
The
zoticone
yelled
in pain and let the knife fall.

Marco tried to kick it away, but the big
skinhead dived to the floor, snatching at the black handle and
rolling over in the confined space to come up, knife ahead at arm's
length, thrusting upwards powerfully into Laura's chest.

Marco dropped the box and moved across to
shield her from a second attack, kicking out and smashing his foot
into the side of the German's head. The knife fell as the elevator
stopped on the fourth floor. Laura slipped from his arms. The doors
opened on the far side, throwing the large youth into confusion.
Marco knew what to do. He slammed his foot over the knife and
pressed the button for the foyer, desperate to get the elevator
down in time to save Laura's life. The neo-Nazi picked up the black
box and stared warily, with his back to the far wall of the
elevator.

Marco could feel the warm blood running
down his hands from where he had held Laura. Laura's blood mixed
with his. As his arms became weaker she fell to the floor, twisting
in pain. He covered the knife with his foot and watched the
skinhead for any sudden movement. The security guards in the foyer
would stop him getting away.

The elevator jerked. The doors opened into
the reception area. The
zoticone
in the TV Roma security uniform ran out, holding the large
black leather box containing the relic. The guards ignored him and
rushed forward to help Laura.

RENATA BASTIANI had been outside
TV Roma for more than an hour,
wearing her new clothes from the Via della Maddalena. She'd been
drinking all day; drinking to forget her lifetime of sorrow. A
neighbor said her Bruno was involved in making a fantastic
discovery. Bruno was a good boy, and all he needed was
encouragement. Bruno would be pleased to see her new clothes. The
colors seemed so bright, so cheerful. She'd always known she could
look high class if she put her mind to it.

She recognized the large German with the
shaved head. He had been in the shop with his friends, buying the
sharp knife, calling himself Manfred Kessel. He was in uniform now.
Was it Nazi soldier's uniform? Manfred Kessel was a terrible man,
torturing and raping innocent women.

So many memories. The missed opportunity
with the knife in the Gestapo building in the Via Tasso. The
shouting, the German voices all around her in the street. It was
just like the war. The Gapists were brave fighters, and she would
join with them tonight. She would be worthy of the partisans. If
Manfred Kessel was still alive then he must die. She had one more
chance to make everything come right.

The large German in uniform came closer,
his face white, running in fear of his life. In his arms he held a
large black box. She pulled Bruno's favorite knife from her purse
-- one of the pair she had given him. Poor Bruno, he was too small
a boy to be mixed up in this war.

Manfred Kessel came closer, pushing his
way through the crowd at the gates. At last she could make amends.
As the huge body pressed forward, she forced the knife up into the
broad stomach. It went in easily. The knife was sharp, ever so
sharp. There was such a look of surprise on the German's face. She
was proud of this moment. The Gapists would be proud of her,
too.

JUST FOR A MOMENT, Karl thought he was
free.

Then with horror he understood the reason
for the pain, the intense pain that caused him to lean forward, to
bend double in the desperate search for relief. A knife. An old hag
had stuck a knife into his stomach.

He fell to the sidewalk. The destiny that
had driven him this far told him he was dying. But death was
impossible. His Papa had looked at him and given the prophecy, and
prophecies always came true.

The crowd began to close in round him.
Excited foreigners were bending over.

Only through sacrifice is it possible to
have power.

The words of the Führer filled his mind
and he felt humiliated, let down. Papa had failed him. The
revelation in hospital had been nothing but a sham. Dreams of a
glorious revival were fading away with his life. The Rallies,
the
Parteitage
,
enormous torchlit parades all over Europe. Aryans united in a new
age of power. And these foreigners could only stand and
jeer.

Blood. Far too much blood. The horror of
death was numbing his stomach. No, not death. This was a healing. A
miracle. He tried to stand. Destiny was still here. He raised his
hand.

A divine being was at his side. He was going
to rise from the dead. The people would bear witness.

"
Papa! Papa!" But the words would not come out.

An old man in black reached down and took
the box now lying at this side. Then came blackness.

JOSEF REINHARDT no longer felt the people
pressing against him as he stooped to retrieve the leather box. It
had been a hard battle to get this far through the crush.

He put his hand inside the young man's
pockets and removed a slim notebook. The crowd would not protest.
They were good Catholics. They would respect his clerical clothes
and collar.

MARCO LOOKED UP for the first time. The
whole of Rome
's
carabinieri
seemed to be in the foyer of TV
Roma. Some were trying to hold back the surging crowd, while a
first-aider applied an emergency pad to Laura in an attempt to slow
the loss of blood. An ambulance was coming. He could hear the
siren. Laura was still conscious, her eyes large and bright. He put
his head by hers and cried with all the compassion he could
find.

"
I love you," he whispered.

Laura looked away. "Don't say it, Marco.
We're different. You can never hate people. Maybe you could once,
but it isn't in you anymore."

He cradled her head against his chest.
Anna's perfume was here. He was aware of Laura's blood coming
through his shirt as he felt the warmth of her trembling body.
"Hatred and forgiveness. There's always forgiveness."

She sounded bitter. "There you go again,
Marco. People get what they deserve."

"
Don't say anything. It doesn't have to be like
this."

"
I'm dying, Marco. I don't want your forgiveness and I don't
deserve God's forgiveness. I don't want anything more to do with
you." Laura began to sob, gasping for breath. "Run your fingers
through my hair, like you did in Paris."

The siren slowed. The paramedics rushed in.
Marco held Laura gently, tears running down his cheeks. Her hair
was soft and damp against his face. She would understand one
day.

"
God's forgiveness is free, Laura. There's nothing we can do
to earn it, but we can ask for it and accept it because Jesus died
for us on the cross. All our good deeds count for nothing. We have
to come to God just as we are. I didn't understand it once, but
it's true."

The blood around Laura's mouth looked like
bright red, smudged lipstick. She tried to speak as a paramedic
pushed a clear plastic mask against her face.

"
We'll do what we can, Father."

The words chilled him. Marco looked at
Laura's face. "She's not going to die," he insisted.

Slowly he released his hold as the ambulance
crew took charge.

THE NEWS ROOM was preparing for a news
flash. The film crew had been recording the neo-Nazi riot for the
evening news. They pushed their way back to the building with
hastily gathered cameras and lighting, to grab video of the woman
being rushed to the ambulance on the stretcher. They already had
tape of the dead ringleader in the street outside, and the producer
was
deliberating whether
to use shots inside the reception area with so much blood this
early in the evening.

Natalia watched anxiously from the
staircase. She had seen Marco with Laura; now he was sitting alone
on the floor. Did no one care about him? They had been close
friends once, and at this moment he needed her sympathy -- even her
love.

As she pushed her way across the foyer, a
voice called out loudly. "Natalia, you're wanted in the News
Room.
It's
urgent!
"

She turned. "In a moment," and continued
to push her way through the crowd.

A uniformed man put out his arm. "Sorry,
signorina, no one is allowed through here."

"
I want to talk to the priest."

"
Go back to work," the man advised.

"
He's a friend," Natalia protested.

"
Natalia!
" The voice called again from the stairs.
"
You're
wanted!
"

A paramedic bent down to talk to Marco.
Natalia turned away and ran up the wide stairs to the third floor,
her eyes filled with warm tears. The News Room would be a frantic
place right now and she had work to do. She stopped and looked back
as she reached top of the staircase. Marco Sartini was looking at
her. It might still be possible.

Chapter
43

LETTER TO MONSIGNOR AUGUSTO GIORGIO

THE VATICAN

CONFIDENTIAL

This is a formal statement
informing you that Marco Sartini is to be retained by my section in
the Vatican Security Services. Sartini is proving invaluable in my
work and he has all the makings of a fine member of staff. With his
agreement, I have requested a permanent transfer to this effect
starting immediately, and Sartini therefore will not be appearing
before your panel again.

I am sure you join with me and the whole
Church in rejoicing at the discovery of a long-lost relic. I trust
that your experts will soon feel able to make a positive
pronouncement to the waiting world, both Christian and
non-Christian. In the meantime, we all wait eagerly for a look at
the features on the face.

You may rest assured that my services are
always at your disposal.

JOSEF REINHARDT

PIAZZA DI SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE, ROME

LETTER TO FATHER JOSEF REINHARDT

PIAZZA DI SANTA MARIA
MAGGIORE
,
ROME

EXTREMELY CONFIDENTIAL

With reference to your letter, let me
comment on the first part briefly. Excellent news. Perhaps Sartini
will be better able to serve the Church faithfully as a member of
your staff.

Regarding the discovery of an
"alleged relic" in Paris, it is now obvious that a rather premature
decision was made to show the item on secular television. Our hasty
gratitude to TV Roma for their assistance in the recovery led, in
my view, to the tragedy at their studios last week. It is indeed
fortuitous that no photographs of the head were released to the
press, in spite of strong pressure on His Holiness, who in turn has
placed certain members of my staff under even stronger pressure to
come up with a report within the shortest time possible.

It would seem that due to
Sartini working against my express wishes, a minefield has been
laid. (Off the record, I have to concede that to some extent this
complaint is offset by the part Sartini played in preventing the
neo-Nazis from obtaining the object for their profane purposes.) I
have already spoken to the Council, warning of the serious
consequences should TV Roma ever again be allowed to treat such a
potentially holy relic in a sacrilegious manner.

Ponder the reaction from
ordinary Christians. Have you considered the serious effects this
discovery could have on their faith? For generations our Church has
become accustomed to a perceived image of our Savior; an image
which is seen as a familiar countenance in all our churches; an
image that is obviously Christian and instantly recognizable in
paintings and on statues. We have to be mindful that the reality
may be very different to the established viewpoint. If this proves
to be so, our existing art could lose its value as an aid to faith
and worship.

I am currently preparing a statement for the
world press, to put on record the views of the Vatican Special
Investigative Committee being set up at this moment.

I regret to inform you that my Special
Investigative Committee does not require your services in this
inquiry, although it appreciates the gallant work you have
performed for the Church over the years.