Empire of Light (25 page)

PHOOM!

18 

First You See Napoli, and Then You Die

Painting 10: The Seven Works of Mercy

CLICK!!

Just as I figured…

I hear the shutter of the Brownie, and I’m back where I started.

The shutter system had opened and closed in a quarter of second, and within that fraction of time, Vittorio and I had been sent on a journey that lasted a good part of the afternoon. Matteo and Trish were oblivious to the entire thing.

I open my eyes, still blinded a bit by the flash. I can barely make out the image of Matteo, still aiming the camera at me.

“Whoops. I think your eyes were closed, Jason,” he says.

“A pity,” says Trish. “Maybe we should take a second shot?”

“No!” I yell at her, prompting a smirk from Matteo as he hands the brownie back to me.

“This is a nice camera. I have a couple of these Brownies at home. But you don’t just keep it in that sack, do you?” Vittorio asks as he spies my battered messenger bag.

“Yeah,” I say sheepishly. “I never got a chance to find a good case.”

“Ah! I have just the thing,” he replies, suddenly ducking into his office.

Matteo’s iPhone buzzes. “
Merda
. I have to go back to the lab. Jason, thanks again.” He offers me his hand. “Call me when you get back to the states. Tell me about the snap shot I took of you.”

“
Certo.”

“
Ci vediamo, my friend,”
he says before dashing out of the door.

“See ya, Matteo.” I can’t hate anymore. This feels right. This was his shot, not mine.

Vittorio enters the room again and holds up a camera case, seemingly custom made for my model of Brownie camera.

“Please, allow me to give you this.”

The case is buttery leather, wonderfully distressed with age. The camera fits perfectly inside it, as if it were made for it. I flip the case over to admire the craftsmanship, and I notice that it’s engraved with Vittorio’s name.

“What a coincidence. You have a case for the specific make and model of my camera just laying around, collecting dust,” I say gazing at Storaro skeptically.

“It’s a case for a camera I no longer own. Consider it a thank you souvenir.”

“Grazie! Um,
Signore
, did you notice anything strange when Matteo snapped that shot of us?” I ask cautiously.

“No. What do you mean?”

I peer into Vittorio’s eyes and he looks sincerely clueless.

“Nothing. Thanks again for the case. I have to get going. Catching a a train to Naples this afternoon.”

Napoli! Vedi Napoli e poi muori,”
Vittorio commands.

“See Napoli and then you die?” I attempt to translate. “Is that right?”

“
Si!”
Vittorio responds.

“You’re actually predicting my death in Naples? That’s it. I’m done.” I pull out my iPhone to call the airline. “I’m canceling.”

“No. It means that once you’ve seen a place as beautiful as Napoli, you no longer need to live.”

“What?” I freeze with my finger on the airline vCard, ready to re-route my return flight home out of Naples to Rome.

“Napoli! You’ll love it. It’s wonderful,” he says as if he’s talking about a perfectly grilled steak.

“Really? Are we talking about the same Napoli? Because everybody else makes it sound like I’m headed into Nam.”

“There is danger to be found in Napoli, of this there is no doubt. But you can’t keep being afraid of the dark. Go on your journey. And when you get home, tell Edge I said,
hello
.”

***

I’m frozen within the foyer of the Napoli train station, gazing out at the chaos of the city. I’m excited about the idea of exploring this city, and there’s actually a part of me that’s hoping for a little adventure. Maybe. I can’t stay afraid of the dark. Right?

Having said that, before heading to the hotel, I think I’ll perform a quick recon of the city first. I stash my heavy gear in a pay locker, planning to travel light and get the lay of the land without stressing out over my bags. I venture out with only the Brownie camera. As I make my way to the glass doors of the station, I think back to the first time I jumped into the deep-end of the pool when I was a kid, scared to death of drowning. However, I was just too hot and too tired of freaking out over something as stupid as water. The heat finally got to me, and I snapped. The next thing I knew, I was running towards the brink.

“Hey! No running!” screamed this gorgeous babe from her perch on the lifeguard stand.

Screw that ho
, I thought.

An aggressive assault was the only way I was going to get over this fear. I remember the toes of my right foot curling over the curved tiled edge before I sprung into the air. Hanging high above the water, I caught the shocked glances of my friends’ faces, bobbing in the crystal, cool blue water below. Those niggas were about to get straight up cannonballed. As I hung over the water, time slowed down. I’m pretty sure that leap into the deep end was the highest I had ever propelled myself up off the ground in all of my eight short years on the planet.

The thought of that jump gives me courage as I explode through the doors of the terminal and onto the streets of Napoli. I sling the Brownie camera around my neck, now safely packaged in Vittorio’s case. It’s only after I’m engulfed by the commotion of Naples, well past the fail safe point, that I remember what happened
after 
that brave leap into the air.

SPLASH!

I had slapped the water surface hard, stinging the hell out of my legs before sinking to the bottom like an Acme anvil. The chlorine blinded me. Water shot up my nose and flooded my head with an acrid nasal drip.

What the hell did I get myself into?

“Hey!” I scream as I’m spun to the ground, snapped rudely back to the present by the buzz of a scooter blazing past me! As I roll onto the sidewalk, I catch a glimpse of some punk riding the bitch seat of a scooter, his right arm wrapped tight around the driver, his left arm held high in the air extolling his trophy, my vintage 1930 Number 2A Brownie Camera.

“NO!”

The strap had snapped clean as if that shit were designed to break-away.

“Hey! Stop that guy!” I scream as I lift my butt off the ground, helped by a couple of Good Samaritans. I barely thank them before I haul ass after the scooter, but then Graziella, my neighbor from back home, suddenly pops into my head.

Ehi! Che cosa fai! Did you not listen to me? I said, don’t trust anybody!

I slap my front pocket to feel for my wallet.

It’s gone.

I whip my head around and spot the two Good Samaritans who helped me off the ground, casually walking away from the scene.

One turns and makes eye contact with me.

He panics.

They bolt!

It’s been a good four years since I’ve played football. In high school, I was a defensive back who busted a 4.8 forty. I’ve lost a step or two, but I think I can still chase down a couple of sissy soccer players.

I pin my ears back and jet.

I don’t bother wasting any more of my breath screaming for help. I just focus on closing. I have absolutely no clue what I’ll do when I catch ‘em, and I’m pretty sure that chasing down criminals in Napoli is not very smart, but I don’t give a damn.

I close on ‘em fast, making up ground as these two amateurs keep slowing down to look back at me. If we were on a straight track I would’ve caught these guys already, but they know the geography, suddenly breaking around hidden corners and forcing me to take my foot off the gas.

Finally, they make a mistake and run down one of Napoli’s tall, narrow alleys. It’s a straight shot for the next 30 yards. I kick in the after burners, single out the slower of the two and take air.

Parallel to the ground, I grab this asshole around the neck with my left arm. With my right hand, I grab a hand full of hair. Upon impact with the ground I brake our momentum by grinding his thievin’ face into the pavement.

“Give me back my goddamn wallet!” I scream as loud as I can into his ear, over and over again. I’m getting tired. I need help.

“
Aiutami! Aiutami! Aiutami!
” I begin to scream.

To my relief, a bunch of people come screaming around the corner to my aid.

Here come the cavalry!

Why is this guy laughing?

Uh oh.

I take a closer look at the “cavalry” who now surround me.

Thugs, the lot of ‘em.

The other guy I was chasing stands among them, wallet in hand and a big fat smug smile on his face.

I guess I better stop grinding this guy’s face into the stone. I roll off him and he scampers away to the safety of his crew. The leader, the Young Capo, examines the bloody cuts on his face. I can tell by their body language that this kid is probably the Capo’s baby brother or something.

It really is shocking how screwed I am.

“
Sto bene,
” the kid yells as he pushes the Capo’s hand away. The dour-looking Capo then focuses his attention on me.

Diplomacy.

That’s the ticket.

Maybe he’ll cut me some slack if he sees me attempting to appeal to him in Italian. I beg for my wallet back with his native tongue.

“
Senti. Questa è la mia prima volta qui e consosco nessuno. Non ho molti soldi. Ho bisogno di avare il mio portafoglio. Per favore. La darmi e vado.
”

“Jesus Christ! Shut the hell up. Your Italian is horrible. I can’t stand here and listen to you destroying my language,” he says in English.

“You should hear my Napolitano. Now that sounds like ass.”

He smirks, just a little.

“May I please have my wallet back?”

He thinks on it. “
Va bene
. You can have your wallet, but we’re going to keep the cash and credit cards.”

“Your English is way too literal, dude.”

“And you can have your passport back, too.”

“My passport? Shit. I didn’t even know you took that.”

“We take pride in our work,” the Young Capo says as he hands it back to me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Exactly what kind of asshole chases a pick-pocket in Napoli?” he asks, almost admiring my
chutzpah
.

“Obviously, your kind of asshole,” I say.

He grins.

I grin back.

Say, maybe I made a friend?

SMACK!

I’m lit up with a sucker punch from behind, sending me crashing to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The left side of my face goes numb and my ear is ringing so loudly I can barely hear what the Young Capo is saying as he stands over me, spitting with anger.

“If I see you again, I swear I will kill you,” he says before kicking me in the chest.

They walk away, leaving me on the ground.

I really should be thankful that they left me alive, but the camera…

I at least have to try to get it back.

“
Una cosa più,
”
One more thing
, I say as I climb to my feet.

They stop and look at me like I’m insane.

“
C’e una machina fotographia…”
I can’t finish my sentence.

The delayed pain of a bruised eye-socket creeps up to the surface as I stand and the blood rushes from my head. For a moment, it sends me doubled over in pain.

“My camera. I need that back, too. Maybe—”

When I’m finally able to look up, I discover that I’m standing all alone in the alley, talking to myself.

They’re all in the wind.

I walk out of the alley and again come face to face with the bustling chaos of Napoli. I think about how I’ve only been in this city for fifteen minutes, and it’s already beaten me up and left me penniless in a back alley.

I explode.

“Are you kidding me!” I scream at no one in particular. “I’m twenty yards out of the damn train station, and you’ve already robbed me blind! What is up with you people! Are you insane! I
just
got here!”

Unlike Roma, odds are none of these people speak English. From their perspective, I’m just five kinds of crazy delivering a gibberish rant on the corner.

Wait. I’ve still got my iPhone zipped up in my inside coat pocket.