Legacy of Sorrows (28 page)

Her Aunt Rina, a kindly old woman, had taken her in and brought her up as her own daughter until she had left home at eighteen for Pisa University. The effect of her parents' death had left her with an inability to form lasting relationships with most people, especially men. Her counsellor had told her it was just an irrational fear that something may happen to them. She shivered slightly at these memories and consciously made an effort to focus on the job in hand.

She had phoned Marco to say that she would meet him just as soon as she was finished at the Station, and she felt slightly annoyed that she had no time to freshen up from the afternoon and change into something more appropriate for dinner.

It was only five minutes to the hotel but as she walked along, she felt an unease creep over her. She had been a police officer long enough to know it was not just her imagination. Was she being followed? She began to walk a little faster and reached the hotel within a few minutes. Instead of going straight inside, she opened the door and stood just inside the porch looking through the glass door onto the street.

The only person walking past was a tall bearded man who didn't seem to be interested in the hotel and who kept on walking past. Anna relaxed a little, and stood looking out onto the street for a few more minutes until the night porter came up and asked her if everything was all right. ‘Yes, perfectly fine.' Said Anna. ‘I'm just a little early for a dinner engagement.' The night porter saluted stiffly and walked away mumbling to himself. Anna put her experience down to a case of the jitters, and moved to the house phone to contact Marco's room.

There was a strange tension between Marco and Anna over dinner. Almost as if they were aware of the attraction between them, but not wanting to acknowledge it. Anna was decidedly quiet for much of the meal, and it wasn't until Marco ordered another bottle of Chianti that she began to relax, Marco had felt the awkwardness between them all night and now wanted to find out why. ‘Are you feeling alright Anna, or have I done something wrong? Anna looked up from her plate and scanned the near deserted dining room before reaching across the table for Marco's hand. ‘Marco, I'm sorry for being less than amiable. We may have a problem with our plans. The operation may have been compromised. The Commandante's secretary was listening into his office conversations and we believe she may have been passing the information onto others.'

‘What others?'

‘We suspect she was a communist informer and that we could be in danger from them, or from more extreme elements of the left. I was going to tell you later on after dinner. I also think I was followed to the hotel tonight.'

Marco sat upright in his chair, ‘Why should anyone follow you here? It's not a secret that I'm staying at this hotel, or that you have visited me here.'

Anna lowered her voice to a whisper, 'Perhaps because they are trying to find out what we are up to, or planning to follow us to the letters.' Anna looked around the dining room one more time, making sure no one was within earshot before continuing,' I said we could be in danger and I don't think that's putting it too strongly. We have to be very careful and alert. The secretary has been arrested on some made up charge on anti-terrorism and is now in close custody, however she may have passed the information on before she was caught.'

Marco, who was still holding Anna's hand, smiled reassuringly at her, ‘don't be alarmed Anna, we may be seeing danger where there is no danger, anyway, I'm not a novice to danger. I told you I spent some time in the British Army, well I was with the Parachute Regiment, and spent some time on the streets of Northern Ireland, which wasn't exactly a picnic.'

‘You were a Paratrooper?'

‘Yes, I was in for 6 years, then left to join the family ice-cream business.'

‘Anna thought for a while before saying, ‘You seem quite relaxed about this Marco? Do you have an idea of what you would like to do?

Marco nodded in agreement. ‘We need to leave early tomorrow morning, probably around 4am. If we leave by the back door to the hotel, we should be able to avoid being seen by anyone watching out for us. They won't know were onto them at this stage, so we should get clear without being seen.

Anna innocently asked, ‘What's our destination Marco. Marco gave a low laugh and took Anna's other hand in his before saying, ‘Anna, I can't tell you just now, but I promise you it will be worth the wait.' He looked at her earnestly in the eye, then said, ‘to save time and avoid suspicion I suggest you spend the night here.' Anna was surprised at his suggestion and felt herself blushing.

‘It might be better if we just shared the one room,' Marco said. ‘Of course, only in case some ones watching the front desk.' Anna smiled knowingly at him. ‘Of course,' she replied. ‘However I think it best if I go home, change clothes, and get a few hours sleep. I can pick you up at four outside the back door and we can go straight to the letters. I also have to meet two SISI agents tonight and brief them on our plans. They will also ensure were not followed to the letters tomorrow by any interested party' Marco sighed and gestured as if helpless, ‘a man can only try,' he said, ‘perhaps next time Anna.' She gave him a rye smile and said ‘perhaps.' As she stood up, she leaned over the table and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘See you in the morning Marco ‘and she left. Marco, feeling quite pleased with himself, finished his glass of wine then asked for the bill.

The bearded man sitting at a back corner table put down the newspaper that had hidden his face, rose to his feet and approached Marco. ‘Signor Corti?' he said in a heavily accented voice. ‘My name is Lorenzo, and I believe we both have a similar interest in something close to our hearts.' Marco took in the man's appearance. He noticed how tall he was, the expensive suit he was wearing, and the gold Omega Constellation watch on his outstretched arm. Whoever this man was he certainly gave off the appearance of wealth.

‘How do you know my name? ‘He asked as he shook hands with Lorenzo. Reaching for a chair, Lorenzo said, ‘may I sit down
signore
and I will explain.' Marco motioned to the chair. Lorenzo sat down and joined his hands together on the table as if in prayer. ‘I understand that you may have access to some correspondence that would be of interest to many people in this country and your own.' Marco remained silent. He decided to hear him out before saying anything.

‘We feel it would be wrong if the interests of the people I represent are ignored. These people are at present in Glasgow and would not take kindly to the correspondence being given to the Italian government. Am I making myself clear
signore
?' Marco felt a rush of anger and had to work hard at restraining himself from pulling Lorenzo across the table. ‘Are you threatening my family you piece of shit?'

‘There are no threats necessary Signor Corti, just the realisation that as we speak my associates are in a top floor flat in Queens Park Drive in Glasgow and will remain there until the letters in question are handed to me. There is nothing left to say here, so if you wish to phone your family please feel free. I will expect the letters to be handed over to me tomorrow evening at seven pm outside this hotel, and if I am apprehended by the authorities, or followed by anyone, then my Glasgow associates will not be happy. If I am allowed to go on my way unhindered then I will contact my friends and they will leave Queens Park Drive without further incident. Is this clear to you?

Marco by this time had his head in his hands, and when Lorenzo had finished speaking, Marco angrily said, ‘I will give you the letters tomorrow night, however If you touch a hair on their heads I will promise you I will hunt you down and I will castrate you before killing you. I am more than capable of doing this' ‘Is that clear to you?

Lorenzo smiled nervously at Marco. ‘I'm glad we understand each other. Once we have the correspondence we will have no further interest in your parents. Until tomorrow then.' Lorenzo got up and left without waiting for an answer.

Outside the Hotel, Lorenzo reflected on his conversation with Marco. Lorenzo's training in the Libyan Desert with Gaddafis' terror squads had been of the highest standard and he had recognised in Marco a toughness that didn't just come from bluff. Part of that training was done alongside some of the hardest and toughest individuals he had ever met. Some of them belonged to groups like Bader Mienhoff, PIRA, ETA and of course the Red Brigades. I would not be surprised if young Marco is ex military, he thought. Maybe he's one to watch.

Marco sat stunned. He felt fear grip his stomach, like a giant knot, spreading through his body until he was almost paralysed with it. His mind raced. What would happen to his parents? What should he do now? The more he thought on his conversation with Lorenzo the more bizarre it seemed. He remembered his father's words to him before he left for Italy:
people would do anything to get hold of those letters including murder:
and really, for the first time the reality of those words hit him full force. He realised that underneath the civilised façade of a very cultured people, lay open wounds, left over from the war that would perhaps never be healed.

Wounds that spoke of memories, passed down through generations, of brutality, murder, and other shameful deeds committed by both sides in a bitter civil war, of which even today are seldom spoken about. For the first time since he was a child, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He forced them back and tried to pull himself together. He thought of his military training, the mental and physical toughness required for Para selection and he pulled to the fore all his reserves of strength.

He gradually felt more composed, and his breathing returned to normal. Slowly a cold resolve took over his mental processes. He was once again back in the ranks of the airborne. He was once again a disciplined fighting force. He was once again in control.

He got up from the table, made for the phone booth in the reception area, and dialled Anna's home number. After a few rings, she answered. He briefly explained the situation to her and asked her to contact her superiors and tell them that they had until seven pm tomorrow night to come up with a credible action plan to rescue his parents. He also told her that any plan would have to be approved by himself before any course of action was decided on, as he didn't want any unnecessary risks taken with their lives. Anna agreed. She also added that there was no need to leave at four am now that the terrorists, as she called them, knew of their intentions. She suggested they left later, and have the two SISI agents follow close behind as backup. They then set a time to meet and ended their conversation. Marco steeled himself to now phone his parents in Glasgow.

The phone rang out in the family home a few times before Angelo answered it. ‘Dad, it's me. Are you both ok?' Angelo took some time to answer him. ‘Marco, we are both ok and not harmed. The two men here say that they will not harm us so long as you do as you are told. They have left us alone in our bedroom and have promised not to hurt us.'

Marco was amazed that even though his father was under severe stress as a hostage, he had still been able to think clearly enough to tell him there were only the two terrorists holding them and that they were being left alone in their bedroom. ‘Tell them it's all in hand for seven pm tomorrow night, so look after mum and stay cool Dad. It'll soon be over.' ‘Look after yourself Marco and don't do anything foolish,' said a nervous Angelo, before hanging up.

Marco went to the bar and ordered a large brandy. The barman asked him what type of Brandy and pointed to the gantry. Marco pointed at a bottle and said, ‘give me a large Napoleon.' Finding a comfortable seat, he sat down and thought about events as they had unfolded. He also wondered why Anna had called them terrorists and not kidnappers or criminals. He knew that he would never sleep that night, so he may as well try his hardest to relax as best he could.

His mind roamed back to his time in Northern Ireland with his unit.

It was 1970 in Crossmaglen, sometimes called bandit country by the army, and Marco was on night operations with his section. They were staking out a barn in the middle of nowhere land that Army Intelligence suspected was going active that night. An informer had told them it was being used as a weapons dump by the PIRA, (Provisional IRA) and for the last four hours he had been lying in the pouring rain in a wet ditch that was gradually becoming swamp like, keeping a keen eye on the barn and the surrounding countryside with five other Paras from his unit. Their information was that the PIRA would be arriving that night to pick up weaponry for a planned op the next day, so they were all keyed up.