Shout in the Dark (29 page)

"
Laura told me the Nazis shot Canon Angelo's family." Marco
closed his eyes. "Against a wall. I was taught we had to leave
vengeance to God. Now I'm not so sure. Vengeance is a powerful
force, Father Josef." He felt uncomfortable, walking from the
window to the table as he spoke.

The old priest shook his head. "Powerful,
yes, but also destructive. Do not wish the judgment of God upon
anyone, Marco -- not even upon your most evil enemy. Try instead to
pray for their forgiveness. Can you do that?"

Marco had a vivid picture of Anna lying on
the steps. His anger at the three drunken tourists and the terrible
craving for revenge. His anger at being falsely accused by
the
carabinieri
of
involvement in Anna's death. The hatred, the bitterness that had
twisted into his heart like a knife. His ruined life, the long
nights, the tears.

"
It's hard. I've never prayed for the men who killed Anna.
Yes, perhaps I should."

"
Life is hard, Marco. You must remember: God's forgiveness
is a free gift, through the death of Jesus on the cross. No one can
earn it. I have always thought that it is easier for God to forgive
than it is for man. We find it hard to forgive and offer love at
the same time. God offers his forgiveness because he loves us, but
because of pride many do not take it. Do not judge Angelo Levi too
harshly. I cannot believe he would have allowed the neo-Nazis to
bask for long in their new-found glory. He would surely have come
into the open with the genuine relic, and completely discredited
them. They could hardly ask for their money back, and he would be
free to give it away as he thought best."

"
Perhaps," Marco conceded somewhat reluctantly.

Father Josef laughed. "It might not be
divine justice but it would certainly be good enough for
me."

Marco looked down into the piazza. A
figure was marching purposefully towards the building making
passers-by jump aside. It was Monsignor Augusto Giorgio, his black
cassock flowing. He was sailing along like a dark pirate ship in a
storm ready for battle.

"
You're talking as though you know something of Canon
Angelo's motives, Father Josef."

"
Perhaps I do. Even senior figures in the Church require
someone to confide in."

"
Then if you..." Marco paused. It would be insubordinate to
suggest that Father Josef had been party to a conspiracy. And would
he admit to it anyway?

The Monsignor had already entered the
building. A further question might help, but Marco knew he must be
quick. Laura had asked it first, by the fig trees. "Can the motive
make the action right?"

Before Father Josef could answer, the black
clad Monsignor thrust himself into the large chamber, cutting short
any further speculation on divine condemnation and forgiveness.

Chapter
25

LAURA CAME ROUND
in the early afternoon to say that her car had turned up near the
Via Nazionale. The Alfa had become the center of attraction for
the
stradale
, the
traffic police, who had found it illegally parked. Laura said she
was pleased to be reunited with her car, and Marco responded that
he was pleased to be reunited with Laura. They walked together to
recover it.

"
I'll see if I can get it going," he offered as he got
inside and studied the broken steering lock. "I know a thing or two
about hot-wiring." He laughed. "It's my background in used cars. If
the detector's okay, can you take me back to Monte Sisto for one
more look? It's what we went there for yesterday -- before you had
your car stolen. We need to find the bronze head and we're
desperately short of time."

Laura hesitated before agreeing, as though
making an important decision. Then she gave him a firm but slightly
self-conscious hug. "We'll go now -- if you can start the
engine."

Ten minutes later Marco wiped his hands and
put the key in the ignition. The engine fired immediately. Laura
would need a new steering lock but it had been easy to put the
wiring back correctly, and there was no rush to get it fixed. The
person who had hot-wired the Alfa certainly knew his job.

"
I learned to do this in the trade." Marco climbed across
into the passenger seat. "It was legal -- most of the time. Drive
gently, Laura, I've had a bad morning with Monsignor Giorgio. The
Vatican can't seem to make up its mind what I should be doing.
First I'm told to look for the relic, then the Monsignor turns up
shouting that I've got to stop."

He wanted sympathy from Laura. Augusto
Giorgio was a difficult man to get on with; but Father Josef,
although being significantly outranked by a monsignor, had made
good use of the telephone. It would be easy to believe that the old
priest had power considerably beyond his status.

"
Three more days, Laura. That's all they've given me to wrap
this up, and then I'm being moved on to other duties."

Laura said nothing as she swung the silver
Alfa into the fast-moving traffic, slipping between a row of
vehicles waiting at the first street junction.
Marco shut his eyes. Laura, even when not
in a hurry, made good use of the accelerator and considerably less
use of the brakes. "I told Father Josef we went to Monte Sisto
yesterday. He's contacted someone in the records department and
they confirm that the Vatican arranged the reburial of the
Christian Brothers after the war."

"
And?" Laura turned to face him, apparently oblivious of the
rapidly diminishing distance between their car and the one in
front. There was something hostile about her attitude.

Marco shrugged. "It's somewhere in Umbria.
The records are badly filed. They're looking into it."

"
You weren't meant to tell
anyone
what we're doing." Laura sounded furious and raised her
voice. "You've broken a confidence, Marco -- and you
still
don't know where the monks are
buried!"

"
Don't start on at me, Laura. I don't need to say sorry," he
protested. "I still think Canon Angelo took the bronze head back to
Monte Sisto and buried it there. The neo-Nazis are after it, so we
can't afford to waste time."

Laura sounded repentant. "Yes, well, I
didn't mean to raise my voice, but I don't want Riccardo finding
out what we're doing. He and Bruno can get very hot-tempered.
They've gone off somewhere together. Maybe it's
not
Monte Sisto."

Marco felt a chill in the car. "Maybe?
What do you mean -- maybe? You should have told me this before we
went to get your Alfa. You're sure Bruno and Riccardo aren't trying
to find the relic first?"

"
I told you yesterday, they're doing something quite
different. They're planning to smash the fascist
movement."

"
At Monte Sisto?"

"
Forget about them and enjoy the drive."

Marco felt for his seat belt fastening and
made sure it was firmly latched. "I'll try. I've been thinking:
there are bound to be older graves somewhere on the hill. The monks
must have been burying each other for centuries. The few graves at
the top of the hill are almost as old as the monastery. No one's
been digging there. So where are all the other graves?"

THEY PARKED in a small disused quarry
beneath the hill from where they could walk up between the ancient
olive trees. The path would take them to a level patch to one side
of the main route up, well below the high rock where the monastery
was built. Marco carried the spade and Laura took the detector.
Although the path climbed gently, the ascent in the heat exhausted
them both. As they paused for breath, Marco noticed the small
cemetery.

The monks had buried one much loved
brother after another on a level patch of the hill. The small
garden up at the monastery could never have held all these
graves.

Marco extended the telescopic stem and
switched on the detector. The small loudspeaker squealed loudly.
With the tuning knob turned down and the circular search head set
at a comfortable angle to the ground, he began to swing it from
side to side in gentle sweeps. Laura threw a handful of coins on
the grass while he adjusted the sensitivity until the detector gave
a short blast from the speaker every time the search head passed
over them. It even worked on a single coin.

"
Impressed?" he asked. "I just have to be careful not to
pick up the metal crosses on the graves."

Neat rows of iron crosses were now
overgrown with tall grass and brambles. Here was the final resting
place for each member of the spurned order of Monte Sisto, betrayed
by the official Church. Marco looked up to see the ruins of the
monastery perched high above. He kicked a stone down the slope and
watched it bounce until it fetched up against the broken stump of
an olive tree. Then he swept the detector over the first grave in
the row and the speaker beeped a continuous note.

"
There's iron all around the grave," said Laura. "It's not
just the cross."

They moved to the next grave and the same
thing happened. "The Jews shared a shelter with Christians and they
shared a common death," Marco said tensely, "but the leaders of the
two religions said they couldn't share a final resting place. I
find that deplorable."

"
If you think Jews can be buried on Christian ground, you're
naïve!" snapped Laura.

The detector was totally confused by the
iron. "I know it's the rules, but I bet the community here wouldn't
have wanted it that way. Nor would your family." He wouldn't get
into an argument. He smiled wryly. "Every grave is covered in metal
bits and pieces. It's going to be the same at the top. And look at
all these thorns. It's like nature gone wild."

"
That's because nature
is
wild," said Laura grumpily, hitting the brambles away from
a grave with a short stick. "We're city dwellers, that's our
trouble."

Rocky outcrops and dark shrubs broke through
the grass on the steep hill, the rock face folding back in places
to make the smallest of caves. These crevices seemed too narrow to
provide shelter even for sheep, but there were enough of them to
make the search for the missing relic an almost impossible task. He
pushed the detector search head into a few at random. The speaker
remained silent. They would need pegs to mark the off the holes as
they searched them. They were going to need far more than the three
days allowed by Monsieur Giorgio.

"
We'll start here and work our way up the hill," said
Laura.

"
I don't suppose the relic
has
to be buried," said Marco. "Your father didn't say anything
about it being
buried
. He just
said the Living was amongst the dead."

"
That's sounds like a grave to me."

"
And me. Ask Riccardo or Bruno if they can borrow a couple
of metal detectors that tune out iron. We can search the graves
properly with good detectors."

Laura shook her head in alarm. "I told
you, they don't even know we're here. I don't see why..." She broke
off and listened. Down below, someone was blowing a car horn with
long blasts; a strong, vibrant tone. "It's Riccardo!"

"
Are you sure?" Yesterday Bruno had turned up; now Laura's
boyfriend was here. This was not chance. They probably
were
after the relic.

Laura shook her head in dismay. "I'll go
down and find out what he wants. I expect he's seen my car. I
thought we'd hidden it well in the quarry. Riccardo will be all
right if he doesn't know you're with me. Just make sure you stay
out of sight with the detector."

Laura's bare arm felt soft as he gave it a
gentle squeeze. He sounded more cheerful than he felt. "I'm not
bothered about Riccardo. I can stand up for myself if I have to.
I'll tell him I talked you into bringing me here."

"
Not a good idea. Just keep away."

"
He's not jealous is he? I'm sure he trusts us to behave
ourselves." It was a clumsy joke and he immediately regretted
making it.

"
I should hope he does." Laura sounded unexpectedly hostile.
"You surely can't think we've got anything going together. I'm
Riccardo's girl."

The words hurt. "I'll give you ten
minutes, then I'm coming," he said curtly.

He watched Laura hurry down the hill,
holding on to the long branches of the olive trees to swing herself
from one level of ground to the next. Towards the bottom he could
see stone walls and traces of early terracing, but years of neglect
had taken their toll. Laura was having trouble getting through the
undergrowth in places. He could have kicked himself for what he'd
said. He'd spoiled the friendship -- whatever sort of friendship it
had been.

There was no way he was going to hide
because of Riccardo. There seemed to be an alternative route to
Laura's car from this plateau of graves. It would be longer, but he
was in no hurry. If he could judge the mood of a driver from the
way he sounded his horn, then a meeting with Riccardo Fermi should
be avoided. This was an unhealthy place. The feeling might be
irrational, but there was a sensation of death in the air. He
picked up the detector and spade. He was waiting no
longer.