Shout in the Dark (13 page)

Father Josef began to make his way down.
"You have to find the relic and bring it back. Before the neo-Nazis
get to it."

BY THE END of the afternoon Marco was keen
to throw himself into the work being offered by Josef Reinhardt.
Perhaps the guilty could be made to pay for their sins in this
life. With his help, the killers of Canon Angelo would be found and
made to suffer. Marco checked himself, painfully aware of the
hatred that still bubbled below the surface. Hatred like this had
nearly destroyed his life when Anna died. It still could, if he let
his feelings run free.

The old priest said the work was for the
protection of the Church, not for personal gratification. But if
the neo-Nazis were involved, surely Father Josef would want the
fascists taught a lesson at the same time. He reached the outside
door, where the fast moving traffic in the piazza brought him back
to reality with a jolt.

Standing
in the large piazza, he was surprised to discover
he was a little afraid. Why should that be? These streets were his
home, the playground of his childhood, the territory of his youth.
If someone was out there trying to harm him they would have to be
good at it. Anyway, whenever he walked the streets he faced danger
-- from customers who had once purchased his used cars! He decided
to walk home past the studios of TV Roma and check up on the
condition of the injured guard. And perhaps have quick chat with
Natalia.

Chapter
12

TV Roma

MARCO WAVED discreetly as Natalia came
running
lightly down the
stairs in response to a phone call from reception. She was wearing
long, loose clothes -- masking a shape that had once tormented him.
Of all the girls he had been with in the past, Natalia was the only
one to say so-far-but-no-further, and mean it. It was an attitude
hard to come to terms with at the time, and they drifted apart when
Isabella, a blonde from Lido di Ostia, proved more than ready to
satisfy his desires. But that was before he met Anna. He realized
he was not concentrating as Natalia talked, aware that his eyes
were checking out her body. He quickly brought his thoughts under
control.

"
How's the security guard?" he asked.

"
Dino? A deep knife wound to the stomach. The knife missed
his heart. He's still on life-support, but we hear he's going to
pull through."

"
I've been praying for him." Marco looked around. "Well,
the
GIS
certainly
wrecked this place for you last night."

Natalia laughed. "Most of the glass got
broken, otherwise it's not too bad. We're using a temporary
reception area outside the staff canteen."

There seemed to be no resentment that he
had once walked out on her. "We're still friends, right?" he
asked.

Natalia smiled warmly. "That's fine by me,
Marco. Sorry about the chairs; they've come from the staff break
room."

This area certainly wasn't of the standard
set by the once-luxurious foyer. The shapeless plywood seats had
probably been designed for maximum discomfort, so staff would not
want to sit on them for longer than the statutory coffee break. It
must have been some break room!

"
I want to apologize properly -- about our past." He was
still wearing his black suit and clerical collar from his meeting
with the Cardinal and his panel, and sweat was starting to run down
his face. He wiped it away.

"
I hope you're not still worrying about it, Marco. I'm sure
Isabella was the right person for you. At the time." And Natalia
laughed again, a pleasant laugh devoid of censure. "Not that I can
imagine you with her now. Not at all the right image for a new
priest. I was heartbroken once." She smiled. "You've changed. We
both have. When we split up you'd just started selling old cars. I
heard about Anna. I'm sorry."

"
Anna died six years ago. And thanks, I think perhaps I'm
over the worst of it now."

"
It must have been difficult," said Natalia.

"
It was hard when the
carabinieri
accused me of making up the story about the
attack."

"
Why would they do that?"

Marco shrugged. "They thought I was
covering up a foolish accident ... or worse. Those men didn't only
kill Anna. I lost a son. Anna was four months pregnant. The
carabinieri
suggested I didn't want the
baby, and pushed her because I wanted her to miscarry."

Natalia put her hand to her mouth. "That's
tough. I'm amazed you went into the Church."

Marco smiled freely again.
"Meaning?"

"
We knew each other well. I can't say the Church was exactly
a priority in your life. Was it because of Anna's
accident?"

"
Did I find God through grief? Is that what you
think?"

He noticed that Natalia's nose turned up
as she talked, and good memories came back. She began to blush. "I
don't mean to pry. I just didn't..." She shrugged, and as her slim
shoulders moved up they tightened the white blouse around her small
breasts. "Anyway, you'll make a good priest. You'll probably be
even better than you were at selling cars. You'll be selling God to
the people now --
Father!
"

"
Thanks. To tell you the truth, I'm in a bit of a mess." He
didn't wish to blame Natalia, but TV Roma had rerun his interview
at breakfast time, and they were likely to do it again at midday.
He wanted to get Amendola off his back by being taken out of the
public eye. Natalia could help -- if only she would listen. He
turned away to avoid eye contact. "Can you tell your News Room to
stop showing my face on the screen?"

Natalia shook her head firmly. "No way,
Marco. I fixed this up to teach you a lesson: don't take women for
granted!" She pointed at him and laughed. "After today we're quits.
Let me get you a coffee." She walked towards the machine on the
foyer. "It's not too bad, if you go for the espresso."

Marco
's apartment

THAT NIGHT
yet another excerpt from his interview was shown
in the TV Roma news on the raid. Marco realized that Natalia had
fixed things for him all right, but surely not to teach him a
lesson. That had just been a joke. Natalia had never been
vindictive. His door bell rang as he was looking through a book on
the history of art.

A woman of about his age stood at the
door.
"Are you Marco
Sartini?"

"
Yes." He deliberately let a note of caution show in his
voice.

The woman laughed confidently. "You sound
worried. I'm only a journalist."

His caution was justified. "I can't speak
to the press."

She was very quick with her reassurance.
"Consider me a friend, Marco. I keep seeing you on
television."

"
Sorry, I'm going to have to fall back on the old cliché: no
comment. I've been sworn to silence by higher forces. I don't want
to get into any deeper trouble with the Church -- and I don't want
to be quoted on that either."

"
My name's Laura. Laura Rossetti. There's some important
information I want to share with you."

"
You're not after a story?"

"
You're going to have to trust me." And she laughed
intriguingly.

The young woman's voice was seductive,
irresistible. He invited her in, wishing he'd tidied the main room
for the unaccustomed reception of female company. His seminarian
flat mates had already moved out to their first parishes. Until the
fiasco with Amendola he had been packing, getting ready for the
move to the presbytery. Now -- thanks to the stuffy Cardinal -- he
wondered if he would ever be allowed to go into parish work. It was
only when Laura Rossetti was sitting down that he remembered Father
Reinhardt's warnings about the neo-Nazis.

Laura Rossetti seemed to be genuine,
complete with a notebook and folder. To his consternation Marco
experienced a primitive feeling of attraction. Laura Rossetti was
lovely. Beautiful even, in spite of lips that were colored too
brightly. He offered her a chair, avoiding meeting her eyes. But
there would be no harm in simple friendship. He knew he had an easy
manner with all ages and both sexes. Marriage to Anna had taught
him a lot about women.

Natalia, happy little Natalia he had once
tried to bed, must have aroused long-forgotten memories of other
girls only too ready to comply, but he found it easy to sweep the
thoughts aside. As at TV Roma, he was reluctant to dig too deeply
into this aspect of his past. But Laura had Anna's large eyes,
pulled-back hair and beautifully filled pale blue jeans. Even the
perfume was Anna's.
L'Air du Temps
.
Being in the room with Laura Rossetti unsettled him.

The resolve to stay away from women had been
easily made when Anna died. No one could replace her. His
subsequent vows of chastity and celibacy were genuine, and he
prided himself on learning to control his once obsessive
fascination with the female body. The route from promiscuous youth,
to marriage, to man of God, was hopefully a one-way trip.

He sat a little way across the room,
facing his visitor. "I'm not sure I can be much help." He could
feel himself blushing as he spoke, and felt angry with himself.
"You've seen my television interview. I'm told I put my foot in
it."

"
Angelo Levi," Laura interrupted. She said the name slowly.
"Canon Angelo Levi. You mentioned him in the interview. He was too
good for the Church."

"
I met him several times when I was a boy," said Marco.
"Sister Maria used to take us on school trips round the Vatican
museum, and Canon Levi pointed things out to us and made jokes. I
don't think Sister Maria liked his little jokes. I remember I was
stunned to hear about his death. Are you a Catholic?"

Laura stood up slowly and went to the
window. "Catholic? Of course I'm a Catholic." She sounded a little
peevish. Then she turned and smiled. "You have a good view of the
park from here."

Marco felt pleased by the observation. He
was fond of the student apartment. Until he knew Laura better he
would certainly not talk about his work for Father Josef. "Tell me
how you knew the Canon."

She took her time before replying. At last
she said, "I was young when he died."

"
Close on twenty years since the murder," Marco prompted,
suddenly aware of the shape of Laura's full breasts under the white
blouse. He had already noticed there was no wedding
ring.

"
I must be about the same age as you. Yes, I knew
him."

"
You're not making notes. I don't think you're here for a
news story."

Laura returned from the window, walked
past the chair she had been using, and sat by his side on the small
cane settee. "Not exactly."

Marco got to his feet, trying to avoid any
appearance of obvious haste. If he felt any attraction for this
visitor it was only because she brought back vivid memories of
Anna. "Coffee?" The coffee was already brewing on the gas ring.
"You've not told me how you knew Canon Angelo," he called from the
small kitchen.

"
We'll have to get to know each other first. But I have a
family source that is very reliable. I'm trying to trace the
Canon's missing property."

"
The bronze head?"

"
Of course. My editor wants as much background as
possible."

"
What publication are you working for?"

"
Publication? Oh yes, I see. At the moment I'm working for
... one of the Sunday papers. I'm a freelance."

He didn't need to be a psychologist to
detect the hesitation. "There's obviously something personal for
you in this. Is that why you're not making notes?"

Laura raised her eyebrows, emphasizing her
large eyes. She glanced at the folder on her lap. "In a way.
Someone in Canon Angelo's family is going to help me track the
relic down, but they don't want their name mentioned."

He grinned. "And I don't want my name
mentioned either. Seems to me you might not be getting much of a
story out of this."

Laura came to stand with him at the
kitchen window. Two young lovers lay under the maple tree in the
small park, laughing over a private joke. He could almost hear
Anna's favorite music:
I Pini del Gianicolo
, the haunting tune from Respighi's
Pine Trees of
Rome
that brought back
recollections of evening walks on the hillside above the river.
Like the perfume, memories of the tune and Anna were
inseparable.

The thoughts seemed too intense and he
moved away. "I've been told by the Vatican to say nothing about
this business of the relic. I feel I'm back at college, playing
chess with Brother Roberto." He laughed awkwardly. "We're probably
each afraid to make a move."