Shout in the Dark (31 page)

The bushes, mostly buckthorn and junipers,
grew thickly with no easy way between the branches. The priest was
already pulling back some of the growth. The farmer moved slowly
forward then stopped in horror.

"
Mo? Is that you, Mo?"

MO LAY ON his back, feeling saliva running
down his cheeks. The noise of the voices made him cry out again.
The pain in his head was terrible, greater than anything he had
suffered before. The shapes of the people were like clouds with no
detail. He looked at the two men, not knowing who they were, not
knowing if they were friend or foe. One of them sounded like the
children
's father. The
people in the village were enemy. Bad people.
Cattivo
. He was afraid of them.

MARCO SQUATTED down at the
youth
's side. Why had
Riccardo and Laura driven off so quickly? Riccardo had been very
anxious to get away from Monte Sisto, and he didn't seem to be
doing it solely for Laura's safety. Surely they didn't know about
this teenager lying injured in the bushes. He shrugged. Riccardo
had been in such a bad mood that he could easily have been left
here stranded without a car. At least they'd told him to take
Laura's car back to Rome when he'd finished with the
carabinieri
.
Well, the
carabinieri
would have plenty to do now.

He gently touched the youth's
blood-stained forehead. It felt hot and feverish. This was going to
be a long day, and he could do with Laura's company right now.
Laura would have been able to offer comfort to the disabled
youngster while the farmer returned to his farm to phone for
help.

"
You'll be okay," he whispered. But he couldn't say it
convincingly.

Chapter
26

Via Nazionale

ON THE WINDOW
SILL were small packets of instant coffee, an
electric kettle, and white plastic cups -- all courtesy of the
hotel -- and a revolting synthetic creamer in tiny brown plastic
pots. Kessel switched on the kettle and ripped the top off a sachet
of coffee. The television kept pumping out idiotic programs, but he
felt obliged to keep watching TV Roma in case they announced that
the relic had been found, or gave a news-flash on the fate of the
missing photographer. But every news headline turned out to be
nothing but a catalogue of non-events. Otto would never ring now.
The pervert was history, but surely he would have kept in contact
with his precious mother.

"
I could murder that Otto Bayer!"

Otto still wasn't answering the cell phone
number. The photographer's radios had been pathetic. Probably his
phone was just as feeble, and it was now dead.

Karl was also useless. He had made no
serious attempt to track down Sartini, but there must be some way
to find the priest. He opened the small notebook that had been with
his wallet. Karl had done well to get at least something back from
the Gypsy dross.

The loss of the members' names and phone
numbers was a catastrophe. The list had been put together over the
years, added to whenever someone let classified information drop.
No one knew of its existence. Some of those numbers could lead an
inquisitive person straight to the senior members of
Achtzehn
Deutschland Reinigung
.
Phönix would be furious if he ever found out who was behind the
raid on TV Roma, and even more furious if he discovered his name
was on the list stolen by the Gypsies. And why hadn't the bank sent
a replacement card? Karl kept insisting that the old one was
cancelled and a new one was on its way to the hotel by express
mail.

Kessel flicked through the pages of the
bedside phone directory for a list of Vatican numbers. He would
probably be passed from switchboard to switchboard in the search
for Sartini's address, but at least he could speak
Italian.

Karl had gone out immediately after lunch
claiming he would easily find Sartini. Kessel sighed. More likely
the boy had gone out in search of a woman, and was spending
the
ADR's money on
selfish enjoyment rather than on the promotion of the sacred
Shrine.

He picked up the telephone again. He'd not
wanted to contact Otto's parents but it had to be done.

"
Ja
,
spricht
Monika
Bayer."

The voice brought back the smell of damp and
embrocation in the gloomy apartment. The curtains would still be
almost closed, with rain dripping down the window.

"
Kessel here. Manfred Kessel."

"
Herr Kessel, where are you?" Frau Bayer sounded
frantic.

"
Do you know where Otto is, Frau Bayer?"

"
He is not with you?" she asked in alarm. "Otto has phoned
us every evening; but we did not hear from him last night, and we
have not heard from him today. We have been so worried, Helmut and
I. Tell me, Herr Kessel, is Otto well?"

"
Very well."

"
Yet you do not know where he is?"

"
He is working out of town, Frau Bayer," he lied easily. "If
he phones, tell him to ring us at the hotel immediately. I will
give you the number now."

The old witch seemed pretty sharp. She
wrote it down correctly first time.
The call over, Kessel kicked off his shoes and lay
on the bed smoking one of his last German cigarettes. "Damn Karl!"
He hoped the boy would do whatever he had gone out to do quickly,
and get back to this miserable hotel.

The problem was resolved with Karl's
distinctive tap at the door.

Kessel went to unlock it. "Well, young
man, any luck?"

"
What a woman!" Karl didn't need to say anything more. The
clenched and raised fist, and the look in his eyes, said that
Sartini had been able to spend the afternoon in safety. But Kessel
was in no doubt that one of the local whores was now counting a
handful of ADR money.

Money would be a grave problem soon. He
should never have shared the cash from the hotel safe with Karl. It
was no more secure with this young hooligan than it was with the
Gypsies.

"
You did phone the bank and arrange a new card, didn't
you?"

Karl said nothing as he walked to the
washbasin, rinsed his hands, and dried them on the white cotton
towel.

The thought of what might still be on the
boy's fingers was nauseating. "I hope you washed thoroughly --
that's my towel."

"
Any news of Otto, Herr Kessel?" Karl began cleaning his
fingernails with the point of his Göring dagger, then confirmed an
afternoon spent in the pursuit of happiness by flopping backwards
onto the bed exhausted.

"
Go and lie in your own room. And if you want some advice
I'd have a long, hot shower. With plenty of soap." There was no
humor in his voice. No tipping back of the head, no reason to
laugh. Sex was always disgusting. But in the daytime? Karl Bretz's
attitude to life was repulsive.

Renata
Bastiani
's
apartment

"
BRUNO, WHY DON'T you go out and find a nice girl? Why don't
you do that for your old mother?"

The room was getting hotter by the minute
as the stagnant evening air from the courtyard drifted in through
the open window. The smell from the drains from the yard, and the
drone of heavy traffic broken by car horns recalled the summer
evenings of childhood. Bruno Bastiani knelt on the rug beside his
mother, letting her run gentle fingers through his hair. The hair
got less each year, yet the fingers brought the same comfort, the
same reassurance that he was wanted. Lately he had become aware of
a change in Mamma's manner. Sometimes it seemed she was confusing
the past with the present. The doctor said it happened a lot with
elderly people, the old memories being the ones most deeply etched
in the mind.

"
Why don't you talk any more to your Mamma about the girls,
Bruno?"

"
Please, Mamma, not now." At sixty, he had more important
things to do than waste his energy on futile affairs. "Laura
Rossetti is helping me investigate the neo-Nazis with Riccardo
Fermi. All we want is justice."

"
I like Laura, but I don't like Riccardo. He's no good for
you, that man. He'll lead you into trouble."

Bruno sighed. "Riccardo works with me in
the newspaper office, Mamma. He has every reason to hate the Nazis.
His family has suffered dreadfully. That madman in the Via Tasso
turned his grandmother insane."

"
Be sure you ask Laura round here again soon,
Bruno."

"
I'm sure she would like that." He moved his Mamma's hand
down so she could rub his shoulder. "The new Nazis ruined Laura's
life nearly twenty years ago, just like the wartime Nazis ruined
ours. One of them killed Laura's father when she was just a
child."

"
You have to stop thinking about things like that,
Bruno."

"
The war was bad for us, Mamma."

"
You must forget about it, Bruno. You were only a little boy
in the war."

"
I can't forget it, Mamma, not now." His Mamma understood
nothing. "I did it for Laura at first. She asked me to look in the
newspaper files to see what we had on the SS in Rome.
Sturmbannführer Kessel destroyed other families apart from ours.
There are so many documents in the office."

"
You're a clever boy at work, Bruno. You deserve to do
well."

"
Please, Mamma, a coffee."

He moved aside, allowing her to go to the
kitchen to attend to his wishes. She would do anything for him. He
and his mother had that special understanding. He was always the
favorite.

"
Your coffee won't be long, Bruno."

"
Thank you, Mamma. You're good to me. I'm glad it's only the
two of us here tonight."

"
Don't do anything to bring shame on the family,
Bruno."

He laughed. The killing of Enzo's team had
started. The driver of the red Audi had been as scared as hell
yesterday afternoon -- screaming for pity while his two friends
were out of the way at the top of the hill. But there was no pity.
The
zoticone
, the
skinhead lout called Karl Bretz would be next. He could prove
difficult. But Enzo would be easy to kill. His half-brother was a
fool.

The freshly ground coffee tasted
excellent. His Mamma bought it specially for him from a little
stall in the
mercato
. He sat
at the table and made some notes, resting the sheet of paper on the
television magazine so as not to mark the highly polished surface.
Mamma had taught him to be house-proud.

The
carabinieri
had found Otto's body too soon. The visit today had been to
confirm that everything was ready for the next stage of the trap at
Monte Sisto. The web had caught its first victim, but Sartini had
blundered in and put their plan in jeopardy. Unfortunately Riccardo
had failed to convince Sartini to keep quiet -- even for Laura's
sake. That young priest was too moral. Most men would do anything
for a pretty woman.

Bruno began to write. No longer could they
set a trap at Monte Sisto. Riccardo must phone Enzo at the hotel in
the Via Nazionale tonight, telling him to come to the Colosseum in
the morning -- to the upper level, high above the arena in which so
many bloody scenes had been played out in the past.

He recalled something Riccardo had said
earlier. "He'll be identified by the
carabinieri
as your brother."

He'd nodded, almost in relief.
"Half-brother. Perhaps it will be good for me. Purge me of the
demon for ever."

"
And your mother?"

Bruno looked up now as his mother came into
the room with the coffee in his favorite cup. Yes, his mother would
be purged of the demon too.

He sat back. Laura had done well by making
friends with the young priest. Sartini had fed them bits of
information straight from the Vatican. The spider's web was secure,
and soon it would catch all the guilty. Young Karl Bretz was next,
and then Enzo. Two deaths at the Colosseum.

"
Open the window wider, Bruno. There seems to be no air.
Laura is young, but she would be so right for you. Don't let
Riccardo Fermi have her."

"
No, Mamma." But there could soon be a problem with Laura
and Marco Sartini. Laura was setting her sights on the priest -- in
spite of her vehement denials. She'd not wanted him at first. He
was merely a tool in their quest for revenge. And then she learned
of his marriage and the death of his wife called Anna. For some
reason that made her become obsessed with him. Not that Riccardo
minded -- or so he said. That was probably true: Riccardo Fermi had
only started dating Laura to make her feel committed to the
group.