Legacy of Sorrows (34 page)

The next morning as Marco was dressing; he reflected on the coincidence of the date. It was exactly forty-two years to the day that Sergio Rossi had first hidden the briefcase with the letters. What a morning to retrieve them, he thought.

He had arranged for Anna to pick him up outside the hotel at ten am, and they would drive straight to the hide. He pushed these thoughts from his mind and finished getting ready. He had decided that after today he would start making plans to head for home. He was concerned about his parents and how they were faring after their traumatic ordeal with the terrorists. They were getting on in age, and living in some temporary accommodation would only be adding to their stress.

He put on his jacket and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back to his dresser for the handgun sitting on top. He had kept the SISI agent's pistol from last nights adventure and today he felt he had need of a little more insurance.

He stood outside on the hotel steps breathing in the fresh morning air. He loved Lucca, with its neat squares, many fine restaurants, and medieval streets and churches.

The Luchese also boasted of having the finest jewellers' shops of any Italian city in Tuscany. Perhaps I'll take a look in some of them before I leave, he thought.

The sound of a car drawing up to the pavement brought him out of his day dreaming. Anna lowered her window and shouted, ‘buon giorno bello, you ready to go?'

Marco waved at her, walked to the passenger side and got in. Both of them failed to notice the car parked in the side street beside the hotel. The driver was pretending to read a magazine, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the couple.

Anna asked, ‘is it in order to ask where we're headed for, or is it still a state secret?' Marco laughed and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Just head out to Borgo a Mozzano and we'll park the car there.'

As they drove, the spring sunshine flooded the interior of the car, adding to the jovial atmosphere of the couple. They sat closer together than was necessary. Marco could feel the heat of where their bodies touched and restrained the desire rising up within him to reach out for her. They smiled a lot, laughed a lot and joked with each other. They could not be any happier. Isolated in their own private world, each wishing that their journey would last forever and never end.

The Black Alfa Romeo behind was in no hurry to keep up with them. The tracking device the driver had placed underneath the wheel arch of Anna's car last night gave out a constant reading of their position. He kept his distance to about four cars behind them. His focus was now on the couple ahead, and on revenge. After getting hold of the letters, he would take great delight in killing these two upstarts. They had proved to be a big stone in his shoe, and it was time to end this farce.

He thought back to the start of his mission to become part of the Red Brigades. He smiled to himself. Even though his politics were in truth left wing, he had a higher allegiance than mere politics. His cell knew nothing of his oath taken over forty years ago to an ideal that surpassed political parties. This ideal was guided by the ancient code of control and domination by stealth. Outside of the membership, the mere thought of such a power would have been laughed at, a joke, a delusion. He knew better. Lorenzo and his team were little more than puppets, as was much of the Italian state apparatus. He would build another cell of fanatics and forge them to be obedient to his will. They were not important. What was important is that the organisation he represented met their aim of control and domination of every facet of Italian life by stealth. Church, Financial, Political, Military, Corporate and State. All subservient to the Organisation that he was part of. Even that fool Aldo Moro eventually understood the reach they had in Italian society.

He felt elated, refreshed. How could anyone stop the Organisation now.

Anna slowed down and stopped the car off the road onto a farm track, a few miles from their destination. Marco looked at her with suspicion, 'is this a scheduled stop, or have we broken down? Anna looked at him mischievously, ‘I thought we could stop for a while and take in the view.'

‘I thought I was already doing that Anna looking at you.' Anna leaned over and gently kissed him on the lips. He could feel her closeness and he welcomed it. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her hair. ‘Marco, where do we go from here? I mean, what are we doing?' Marco looked down into her eyes and said, ‘what we are doing Anna is getting to know each other a little better. If it changes and develops into a romance, then I for one will be very happy. If it doesn't then we will have enjoyed each others company, and hopefully we will remain friends.' Anna was silent for a while before answering him, ‘I want to be your friend Marco for the rest of my life, and I think I already am. Now I want to be more. I want to share my life with you in anyway I can.' Marco was taken aback by her openness and he held her close again.

‘Would you remain in the Police or would you consider a more mundane role with me in Scotland?' She kissed him gently again, ‘Yes Marco, as long as were together.'

They smiled at each other, and kissed again. Eventually Anna started the car and drove once more onto the road.

As they approached the outskirts of Borgo a Mozzano, Marco guided her to the small car park just off the Via della Republica. They parked the car there and headed for the Devil's Bridge.

As a precaution, Marco stopped short of the bridge and faced the way he had just come. Even though there was no sign of anyone following them, he stood for a while just to make sure. Eventually, when he was satisfied, he walked onto the bridge, and stood in its centre. He had memorised everything his father had told him about the location of the briefcase and now he felt the emotion of the moment. He was conscious of Anna looking at him, obviously wondering what he was about to do next. He faced the wooded hillside and looked for a large Oak tree growing on the ridge, slightly offset to the bridge. He soon saw what he was looking for and taking Anna's hand, they crossed the bridge and set off up the hillside.

After some twenty minutes of walking through the rough undergrowth Marco saw the massive Oak tree standing directly ahead of him. He felt a surge of excitement coursing through him, so he put on a spurt, much to the annoyance of Anna who was being left behind. He stood before the tree and looked for the boulder sitting a little off from it. ‘Quickly Anna, I've found it. It's here.' Anna, slightly out of breath, joined him. ‘Where is it, I can't see anything,' she said, looking around frantically. ‘It's under the boulder; give me a hand to move it.' They both got on their knees and pushed with their shoulders against the rock. It had not been moved for a few years and grass and weeds had sprung up around it making it difficult to shift. Eventually, they were rewarded with the sound of movement, and the boulder began to slide over just enough for them to see the hole it revealed.

Marco leaned over the hole and gently put his hand inside. ‘I can feel it Anna, it's there,' he said, as he steadily pulled out the briefcase. With almost a feeling of reverence, as if viewing some religious relic, they just sat and stared at it. The oilcloth had all but disintegrated, although the briefcase itself appeared in reasonable condition. The fascist emblem of the bound rods and axe was clearly visible near the handle. Marco traced the outline of it with his finger. He noticed that Mussolini's gold initials on the side of the case were quite badly tarnished and he hoped that the contents would be better preserved.

Anna's voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Are you going to open it or just look at it? She said impatiently. Marco took a deep breath and turned the catch to open the briefcase. He pulled out a thick sheaf of papers and laid them on his lap. ‘There must be about a hundred letters here' he said in an unbelieving voice. ‘The outside letters seem to be damp affected, but not too badly. The main body of correspondence, thankfully, seem well preserved.'

‘Can I read one,' Anna said stretching out her hand to take one, ‘please.' Marco took one out from the centre of the bundle and gave it to her. ‘Take great care with it Anna; your hands are holding a piece of world history.'

She saw that the letter was addressed from Mussolini to Hitler and was dated 1940.

My Dearest Fuehrer,

Once again, I write to you in the warmth of our friendship and of the certainty of our victory. Your Armies are poised for the invasion of England and at this moment I am concerned at the thought that as you shed German blood on the soil of Europe for the eventual victory over England, the Bolshevik hordes are gathering to the East for a traitorous thrust to your rear. We have often discussed that England is not the real enemy, that they only entered the war out of honour for Poland and that the Bolsheviks are our real historical and eternal enemies. There are many in England who identify with your aims, and your philosophy, from the average person to Royalty, and perhaps if given time to think about events, they may even decide to join in our crusade to crush the eastern threat together. What a crusade that would become and what a united force it would make to see the West unified against Bolshevism, with you at its head.

I know you to be a man who will do what is right for the glory of your people, and for you to take your place in history as the one who defeated Communism and united the West under your outstretched arm. Perhaps we should turn and face the threat all together instead of invading England at this time. It may well be that the forces of progress and reason in Britain will come to realise who the true enemy is and turn away from this futile conflict with fascism and join us in our victory.

I salute you Fuehrer and your vision

Benito Mussolini

Duce of Fascism

They dipped into the bundle of letters and avidly read more revelations of what actually happened behind the scenes to influence world events. They avidly looked at the photographs of world leaders with Mussolini, and were amazed at the scenes. After about an hour, Marco began to tidy the letters up and place them back in the briefcase. They both realised that what they had just read was political dynamite in the wrong hands. ‘Do you realise that we have been reading private letters written by Churchill, Mussolini, and Hitler and been privy to their thoughts,' an excited Anna proclaimed. Marco looked at Anna with complete adoration. Her eyes were shining with emotion and as she dramatically waved her arms about as she spoke, she had never looked as beautiful or as desirable. He moved over beside her and gently took her face in his hands and passionately kissed her. At first, Anna was taken by surprise, but she soon recovered and kissed him back. He lowered her to the grass and began to unbutton her blouse. She responded warmly and passionately. They then entered a world of pleasure and joy. They explored each other's bodies with soft kisses, and revelled in the delight of touching each other, until eventually, unable to wait any longer; they joined together and were consumed by the intensity of their love.