Necroscope 9: The Lost Years (63 page)

‘Er … how’s it going?’ Darcy rubbed his hands in a businesslike fashion. He was lost for words if only for a moment. ‘So, where have you been, Harry? And for that mater,
how
have you been?’

‘How do I look?’ The Necroscope was unsmiling.

‘Fine!’ Darcy answered, then slumped and shook his head. ‘Hey, we’re friends, Harry,’ he said, his tone of voice flattening out a little, losing its bounce. ‘I’d like to think so, anyway. And in that respect I’m pretty much like Ben Trask: I don’t like to lie.’

‘So don’t.’

‘You look about the same as last time,’ Darcy told him. ‘You’ve lost weight, gained a few wrinkles, and you seem very tired. But at the same time - I don’t know - somehow you look more like you, too? But you don’t
talk
like you. I mean, I’ve given a lot of thought to that conversation we had about Alec Kyle - could he have been a secret drinker and so forth? That was pretty strange stuff!

So, you know, apart from Brenda and the baby … what is it that’s troubling you, Harry? I mean, I’d realy like to help, if I can.’

And suddenly the Necroscope felt he could relax a little. Darcy’s friendship was genuine. Oh, there would always be this E-Branch thing, but that aside Darcy was real, and Harry felt able to talk to him. About certain things, anyway. And he did talk to him: Told him about Alec Kyle’s precognition, how he seemed to have inherited it, and something about his strange new problem with drink. He didn’t go into details on the latter, but enough that Darcy got the message. Certainly he got the message on the other thing.

‘About Alec drinking; I still think you’re wrong,’ Darcy said, when Harry was through. ‘And even if you’re right, it’s amazing to me that he hid it so wel! As for this,’ he picked up the picture from his desk. ‘You say you’ve seen it before?’

The Necroscope nodded. ‘Yes. A scene, or sudden vision - in my head - but absolutely real. Actually, it was during our conversation about a Russian Fort Knox. Do you remember?’

‘Of course, as a result of which I sent you the picture.’

‘Right, but my mind - or maybe Alec Kyle’s mind, the last wrinkle in his grey matter? - had
already
sent it to me! Only I didn’t recognize it, didn’t know what it meant.’

Darcy nodded. That’s how it was with Alec, too,’ he said. ‘He rarely understood anything he saw but simply had to run with his visions to see how they worked out. He had to wait until he caught up with the future.’

‘Me, too,’ Harry said. ‘Except this time I’ve been given more than just a precognitive glimpse, more than a mental clue.

I have your photograph, too,’ he leaned forward and tapped his index finger on the picture. ‘And I know that
you
know quite a bit about this … what, target? So I won’t be going in blind, because now that I’m sure this place
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is waiting to happen to me somewhere in my future, you’l be giving me al the details.’

‘As much as we have,’ Darcy said. ‘Certainly. But even so, it’s still
fait accompli.
You
are
going to do it.’

‘So it would appear,’ Harry’s face was grim. ‘So maybe we can start with you telling me who it is I’ll be doing it to …’

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IV

DARCY’S TARGET. BONNIE JEAN AT HARRY’S.

‘First the place,’ Darcy pushed the photograph back across the desk closer to Harry. ‘We don’t know much about it; its history is vague at best. But you can probably find out more localy if you’re so inclined.’ (In fact the ‘probably’ was redundant, for Darcy knew that the Necroscope could do just that - could actually talk to the original owners or builders, if he so desired - but he didn’t want to broach that subject).

‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘it’s called Le Manse Madonie, named after the mountainous region in Sicily where it stands.

It was built about four hundred years ago on the foundations of a castle dating back to crusader times. And like most ancient properties, it’s been added to and subtracted from for centuries.

‘As to what it was originally: a watchtower looking out over the Tyrrhenian? Possibly. The redoubt of some princeling? We don’t know. And actually it mightn’t be so easy to find out after all - not from books, at least - because as far as we’re able to discover most of its historical records have been destroyed. I mean, utterly.

‘The one sure thing we do know is that it’s stayed in the hands of the same family for centuries. Their line goes back a long way, you might say immemorially. But records? - forget it! Where they exist they’ve been altered, updated, re-written from scratch. Not that there’s much we can deduce from that; quite a few old families have skeletons in their closets. These people have cleared them out, that’s all. Or maybe that’s not all. It could be they were simply making room for a few new ones …’

These people?’ Harry sat wrapped in his own thoughts. He had absorbed all that Darcy had told him, which wasn’t much so far. ‘Well, it seems obvious to me that you’ve been interested in “these people” for quite some time. And that’s E-Branch I’m talking about,
keenly
interested! So who are they?’

‘They’re called the Francezcis,’ Darcy told him. ‘That’s their family

name, anyway: the current owners and occupiers of Le Manse Madonie. But as I’ve said, it’s been Francezci family property, oh, since the year dot. They’re brothers, twins, but not identical. Anthony, or Tony, and Francesco Francezci. That is
who
they are, but it’s
what they
are that interests us.’

Harry nodded. ‘So what are they?’

‘First the facts,’ Darcy answered. ‘Let me tell you what we know for sure, and then what we suspect. And finally we’ll be down to best bets. The Francezci brothers are the sole surviving heirs to one of the richest families in the world.

You can measure their wealth … well, in billions! So we believe. Okay, okay!’ He held up a hand. ‘I said I’d tell you only what we know, and we
do
know. But it isn’t easy to tie these people, or their assets, down. Put it this way: if you could calculate their wealth in terms of the Italian economy - if you could find a way to put back half of what they have taken out -then Italy and Sicily wouldn’t be in half the shit they’re in now.’

Harry could see where they were going. ‘Mafia,’ he said, very simply.

‘Shhh!’
Darcy put a finger to his lips and pulled a mock-horrified face. ‘What, the Francezci brothers? But that’s akin to blasphemy, Harry! Even suggest such a thing in polite Italian society, you’d be ostracised in a moment - and later you could end up circumcised, too, from the neck up! No one talks about them in such terms, but we’re pretty damn sure it’s how people
think
of them. Except… well it’s amazing how things get warped with the passage of time. I mean, look at the so-called “legends” of Robin Hood, Jesse James, Ned Kelly - all the murderers and thieves who’ve become folk heroes.’

As he paused for breath, Harry said, ‘Are you telling me the Francezcis are heroes?’

Darcy grinned, or grimaced, and said, ‘But when you’re powerful enough you can be what you want to be. I’l give you an example of what I’m talking about. Some forty-odd years ago it was a Francezci -allegedly one “Emilio” Francezci, a shady

“uncle” to Anthony and Francesco - who helped to organize the collaboration of a then underground Sicilian Mafia in the American invasion of 1943. That was a joint effort that came about as a direct result of an old debt owed by Emilio to Lucky Luciano, who was then rotting in an American prison cel.

‘It was Emilio’s “suggestion” that in exchange for Luciano’s freedom and later extradition to Italy, Lucky might like to contact several Sicilian
“ex”-capo
friends on behalf of the American invasion force, and request that they and their

“ex”-Mafia soldiers - who were still scattered throughout Sicily’s villages - tighten the screws on what remained of II Duce’s armed forces and make them an offer they couldn’t refuse: life if they ran away, death if they chose to remain at their posts. Except

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while a clean sudden death as the result of an American blitzkrieg couldn’t be guaranteed, a very ugly one on the cutting edge of some
mafioso
guerrilla’s garrotte most certainly could!

The reason for all those “ex”s is simple: you’ve got to remember that at the time, Mussolini was hanging
mafiosi
from whichever handy lampposts he could find, and so it was a very good time to refute or better still cancel your membership in that organization! But the Mafia never dies; it might go away for a while, but it always comes back.

And II Duce, by standing against them, had put himself in their line of fire. They wanted rid of him - and they certainly didn’t want Hitler!

‘Thus the American invasion of Sicily was a walkover, and the course of the war - and a great many world-shaping events since - was altered. And so while this Emilio Francezci might be a difficult man to trace, by which I mean that we know
absolutely nothing
about him, still he could become one of those fake folk heroes I was talking about. But then, I’m told that there are people who idolize the memory of Al Capone, too …’

Harry was silent a while, then said: ‘But we
are
talking about Italy, or more properly Sicily, which is a place apart, surely? The way I understand it, graft, political corruption, crime in general, these things are almost a way of life. Just because this one Francezci - this “Emilio” - had bad connections, does that mean they’re all tarred with the same brush? I mean, isn’t everyone in that sort of culture tainted or at least touched by it, from the politicians down? … Or up, as the case may be? What else have you got, Darcy? Why don’t you tel me what brought about E-Branch’s interest in the Francezcis in the first place?’

‘Cut straight to the point, right?’ Darcy answered. ‘Okay, let’s try that. E-Branch’s interest in the Francezcis:

‘Harry, I have prognosticators, people like Alec Kyle, yet unlike him, who are mainly interested in the future. The future of this country, and its welfare - and, I hasten to add, of the world as a whole. But charity begins at home. So what do I mean, these people are like Alec yet unlike him? Well, you were with us long enough to understand that no two sets of ESP skills are exactly alike. The talents of my precogs don’t work like Alec’s did, that’s al. But they
are
skiled at making damn good guesses. Except as any precog will tell you, the future is devious as hell and therefore hard to gauge.

But they do their best.

The point is, as an island and a race we’re moving closer and closer to Europe. Not in the physical sense, no, but ideologically, politically, and financially. So it would seem, anyway; so my precogs - my futurologists - have predicted. Well, if that’s how it will be, it’s how it will be. But in a future world where we are tied to Europe, we’d like to give ourselves the best possible advantage. Just because we happen to be divided from Europe by the English Channel and the North Sea - a situation which has given us a positive advantage in the past - doesn’t mean we have to be some kind of poor offshore relative, some sort of bare-arsed cousin!’

The Necroscope was quick on the uptake. ‘Your - futurologists? -foresee financial difficulties?’

Darcy was impressed. ‘Among others,’ he answered. ‘French governments come and go like day follows night, and the French franc fluctuates accordingly. Then there’s the deutschmark … except there we’re more worried about the
past
than the future! The old deutschmark may look good now, but it has one hel of a bad record, Harry. And as for the lira and the drachma? I mean, seriously, the pound sterling should end up tied to currencies such as those?’

‘So, you’ve gauged something of the future, you’re mindful of the lessons of the past, and you’re now considering the present, right?’ Harry nodded. ‘So that you can discover where the rot has set in, and stop it from spreading over here? Which led you to the Francezcis.’

‘Among others, right. But we’ve had to tread oh-so-carefully. The Francezcis seem immune from any kind of accusation. I can give you several examples in the last decade where Italian governments have fallen just because they
looked
like they were pointing a finger in their direction! E-Branch is E-Branch, yes, but on an international scale even we don’t have that kind of diplomatic clout. Let them get wind of the fact that we’ve been checking on them … why, even our plug could be pulled! And the intelligence of these people is awesome.’

Darcy had gone too fast. ‘Hold it!’ Harry held up a hand. ‘You could get the plug pulled? Cease to function? But surely, you’re first-line national security?’

Darcy sighed. ‘We’re E-Branch. There are people who should know better who still don’t even believe in us, and others who want to cut our expenditure … and we exist on a fucking shoestring anyway! And it isn’t just idle flattery when I tell you that you, personally, have saved our skin time and again.
You,
your successes, are what’s kept us afloat. We are ahead of The Opposition, which means we’re successful. Ergo: we are allowed to exist. But the Francezcis are just too
powerful
for us. As a covert organization, we simply can’t go against them. If we’re right about them, we lack the clout to do anything about it. And if we’re wrong and get found out - they’d have us by the balls

… ”

Harry was thoughtful. Two brothers, that powerful? Just the two of them? What’s their power-base - I mean, apart from money.’

‘Well, of course, that’s the most powerful force on Earth!’ Darcy exclaimed. ‘But okay, apart from money:

‘Harry, they’re like an octopus, with tentacles all over the place, in every kind of sinkhole. I mentioned their intelligence. Well, in the main that’s their power-base, too. Except the rest of this is really deep and you might find it difficult to believe, even hearing it from me, even here at E-Branch HQ.’