Shout in the Dark (6 page)

"
Welcome to our spider's web, Enzo. If you're still up to
your neck with the neo-Nazis, I'm going to kill you."

Bruno Bastiani could feel only hatred for
the half-brother. How long was it since he'd last seen Enzo? Ten
years? Maybe twelve. Enzo was older now and had come to look
exactly like his father in the war. Bruno was suddenly overwhelmed
with a horrifying childhood memory at the age of four of watching
his mother, naked, rolling around on the bed with the German SS
officer and crying.

Via Nazionale

IN HIS TOURIST class hotel off the Via
Nazionale, Manfred Kessel was watching the
TV Roma news channel. Karl Bretz had
destroyed the relic and risked being caught -- for nothing. His
dream of the Shrine of Unity lay shattered. The
Jungling
had seen to that. And then, as if the
imbecile hadn't already done enough damage, the young thug boasted
that he'd
left the note in the studio
--
as planned!

"
Karl, I suppose you know that Phönix is going to
kill us when he finds out we're involved in this mess."

"
But you told me..."

Kessel waved his hands to silence Karl as
the young priest on the television screen started to tell his
story. Karl began playing with his homemade dagger. The
implications of there being a possible eyewitness to his stupidity
didn't seem to register.

Kessel took in every word. This priest had
seen them talking in the park, and had probably seen Karl holding
the handgun. The name on the caption said
Fr. Marco Sartini.

"
Keep still
,
Karl!
"

"
So would you recognize these two men if you saw them
again?" asked the interviewer.

"
Absolutely," responded Sartini.

"
That
verfluchter
priest!" Kessel felt his Nordic skin turning red from the
neck upwards.

The interviewer held up to a small
fragment of metal. "You've seen what happened to the relic, Father
Sartini. You must feel devastated by the events here at TV Roma
tonight."

"
It's a disaster." The priest did indeed seem genuinely
upset. "That relic could have been exhibited to raise money for the
poor. In my opinion it should have been used to raise money for the
poor a long time ago."

"
An interesting point of view." The interviewer lowered his
voice for effect as he posed the next question. "Do you think some
higher force decided that the relic was not meant to be
seen?"

The priest grinned wickedly.
"Higher force? Do you mean
God?"

The interviewer appeared disconcerted by
this blunt response. "The relic survived for nearly two thousand
years, Father Sartini. In mysterious circumstances. Then, just as
the world at large is being given the chance to see it...
Bang!"

"
There's certainly something strange about its history,"
agreed the priest. "I believe the late Canon Angelo Levi owned it
for a time. He was with Vatican Archives, but I've no idea how he
obtained it. He's a man of mystery. I heard this morning that he
had a daughter."

"
A canon in the Catholic Church with a daughter? Are you
serious?" The surprise in the interviewer's voice was not just for
the viewers' benefit; it seemed to be a reaction of genuine
shock.

Sartini shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway, if
his daughter is still alive, maybe she could tell us how her father
got the relic in the first place."

The interviewer turned to the camera,
speaking to the viewers. "So the mystery deepens by the minute. As
a security guard from TV Roma fights for his life, the
carabinieri
want to interview two men seen
hurrying from the scene. And Father Marco Sartini here could hold
the key to the puzzle of why a Christian relic, said to show the
face of Christ, should be so brutally and wantonly
destroyed."

Kessel flung a book at the television set.
"That bloody priest. Get out there, Karl. Find him and kill him.
But be more careful this time. Sartini is trouble."

Karl tossed his knife into the air and
caught it deftly by the handle. "A pleasure, Herr Kessel. But right
now I'm off to my room for a lie down."

"
To play with yourself more likely." He watched the youth
heave himself from the bed. It was difficult to think that this
lump could be Rüdi's child.

In the 1980s, in Düsseldorf, he'd spent
many pleasant evenings with Rüdi Bretz -- a time when his own name
was still Enzo Bastiani.

The
Past

Düsseldorf

HE WAS SITTING in a dark corner of the bar,
drumming his fingers on the table.

Tall, blond and Nordic, he somehow managed
to feel out of place in both Germany and Italy. A psychologist once
told him it was an identity crisis. Not that the information had
ever done him much good. More comfortable in Germany than in Italy,
he always felt uneasy. The smoke in the bar was affecting his eyes.
He began to rub them as Rüdi Bretz returned to the table with two
dripping glasses of lager.

"
Full in here tonight, Enzo."

At least Rüdi sounded cheerful. He nodded,
forcing a smile. "These bars are where I feel at home, my
friend."

If only it were true. Where did he feel at
home? Not here -- or anywhere else for that matter. "Perhaps we
should get down to business."

Rüdi Bretz laughed. "I sometimes think
there's Jewish blood in you, Enzo. I can tell by the way you say
that!" He leaned forward, catching him by the nose and twisting it
playfully. "I know all about that little secret you're
hiding!"

He pulled himself away angrily, before
carefully raising his shoulders as though to shrug off the very
possibility. Deep down inside he really hurt. If anyone in the ADR
found out about his mother they would drop him from membership. He
looked around warily, wishing Rüdi would keep his stupid jokes to
himself.

"
Have you got something on your mind?" Rüdi swung his
briefcase onto the small table. "Here you are, six videos and a
sixteen-millimeter film. The film is even better than last
month's."

"
That's good." He wasn't listening; he was locked into his
own world. One day he was destined to be accepted by the believers
of the German Homeland. To be more honest, he'd find a way to
accept
himself
as a
true member.

The video trade was not for his personal
benefit. It never had been. All the income he and Rüdi derived from
this enterprise, or at any rate most of it, went straight into an
account they had opened for the Düsseldorf Chapter of
Achtzehn
Deutschland Reinigung
.
They had already deposited a considerable amount of money. Making
the videos was Rüdi's idea -- funding the neo-Nazis his. Together
they made a great team. He took the unedited material obtained by
Rüdi Bretz down to Rome where he had access to the facilities such
an operation demanded.

In the studios of TV Roma a co-operative
and sympathetic editor took the film and videos apart shot by shot,
reassembling them with additional sound effects into a very
attractive form. The market for such merchandise might be limited,
but the small demand involved extremely wealthy customers with
insatiable appetites for sex and sadism. The income was excellent,
the security was guaranteed.

"
Have you heard of a man called Phönix?"

Rüdi looked surprised. "Of course. He's
the driving force behind the ADR."

"
I met him in London last week. He sees the need for unity
with other right wing groups. He'll support my name going forward
as an instructor."

Having revealed and established the
contents of the briefcase, Rüdi snapped it shut and placed it on
the floor. "They're looking for youth instructors in Düsseldorf.
I'd go for it if Phönix is prepared to back you. Wasn't your father
with the
Hitler Schule?
"

"
He was an instructor." He could talk about his father; he
could never talk about his Italian mother. And never,
never
would any of his German friends
be allowed to find out
she
was
Jewish. "I've been thinking about the missing relic, Rüdi. It was
handed to a Jewish Christian in Saint Peter's in the war. His name
was Angelo Levi. The man's a canon now, working in the archive
department in the Vatican. If TV Roma can prove he still has it,
maybe he'll sell it back to me,
ja?
"

Rüdi nodded, but for some reason seemed
slightly bored. "So you keep telling me. Are you coming back to my
place for a drink?"

"
I'd like to, of course, but it's always the same problem.
There's only the one late night plane to Rome." He drained his
glass. "How's the wife?" Not improved in looks at all, he could be
certain of that. Helga Bretz had definitely been at the back of the
queue when good looks were being given out.

"
Fine." Rüdi nodded, though without any noticeable
enthusiasm.

"
And the boy? Karl, isn't it?"

Rüdi's eyes brightened instantly. "A big
lad. Nearly seven now. He's already into military modeling. Wants
to make that old paper knife of mine into a Göring dagger. He's got
a picture of one on the wall above his bed. I might let him remodel
it when he's a bit older."

"
Big, you say."

"
He's grown up quite a bit since I took him in hand. Helga
fussed over him too much. I recently found out that he was afraid
of everyone and everything at school. A son of mine, acting like a
babe-in-arms? Not my way to bring a boy up, I can tell you." Rüdi
laughed. "He's going to camp this summer. That should
help."

"
Good."

Rüdi now seemed determined to share his
family news, especially anything relating to his remarkable son.
"The hell of it is, Enzo, I've had to buy myself a new letter
opener. Got myself a real dagger for the job -- a wartime model
from the flea market. Karl reckons it's genuine, but he needn't
think he's getting his hands on it, the young
Rowdy!
" He used the word affectionately.

"
I see." He had no wish to learn anything about Rüdi's
family; he had merely felt under some obligation to inquire.
Meeting in bars like this was the best way of seeing his friend.
The late night plane was always a good excuse for not going home
with Rüdi Bretz. "We still need to know where my father found the
relic in Italy. Any luck with tracing the wartime
photographer?"

Rüdi tipped back his glass for the warm
remnants of lager. "Another?"

He shook his head. "Any news?"

Rüdi shrugged. "SS in Rome. I suppose
there could have been a photographer with the unit. A man with a
camera would have taken hundreds of pictures. Perhaps I'll get
someone working on it."

Rüdi was a good companion, but never
forceful enough. Why did the ADR see anything in him? "Do it soon,
my friend. You know how much I want that Shrine." He felt for the
briefcase.

"
The Eternal Shrine," added Rüdi, although he didn't sound
especially passionate about it.

"
Rüdi, you know it's been my dream to mount a display in
Berlin. The head from the statue of Jesus Christ alongside the
relics of Hitler and the Third Reich. It's what my father,
Sturmbannführer Kessel, would have wanted."

"
Not a chance," said Rüdi, wiping the beer from his mouth.
"The law would never allow it."

"
If we could advertise the event throughout the
world..."

"
No newspaper would take our advertisements."

"
You're right, my friend, but perhaps one day the situation
will change. If we had a way to make it known, the people would be
drawn in such crowds that the authorities would be powerless to
stop us. Remember that night in Düsseldorf when I showed you my
father's private papers and we talked about a magnet? You and I,
Rüdi, we'll find a way to draw believers from all over
Europe."

Later that night, on the flight back to
Rome, there was plenty of time to reflect on the plan. His plan --
the one way to win the approval from Phönix and the others in the
ADR that he so desperately sought. By the end of the century, by
the year two thousand, things would be very different if he had his
way.

It had been a clever move to get TV Roma
to stir things up at the Vatican. Soon he would recover his
father's property and put it to use in a breathtaking
plan.

The pilot lined up for the approach to
Fiumicino, the main airport on the outskirts of the Eternal
City.