The skies had been grey over Cedar Boulevard and it had added to the gloom and anxiety they felt as they cruised slowly past the Montis’ house for the second time that day. There had been no activity at mid-afternoon and there had still been no activity at seven-fifteen – no lights on and no car in the drive. On the plus side, there’d been no sign of the cowboy either, so they’d avoided another confrontation and the risk of him raising the alarm. But he had to assume that at some point, other neighbours might get suspicious if they saw a strange car driven by the same strangers day after day. They’d driven back to St Louis and tried again the next day with the same result. Time was running out for them to warn the family; Kessler might never come, but if he did, it could be at any time.
“He will come,” she said over dinner. “He has nothing left to live for. Unless he is caught, he will do anything to reclaim what he thinks is his.”
“And does Catalina belong to him?”
“She is his blood. He did not give permission for her adoption. And I have seen a side to him you have not seen.”
“That’s true, but you’ll forgive me if I say I just can’t imagine Ernst Kessler’s sensitive side.”
“He has committed terrible crimes but he is still human.”
“I can’t feel sorry for him, Lucia.”
“I’m not asking you to feel sorry for him. I just say that his human side will dictate what he does next. He will not kill you and he will not kill me. Maybe, like you, he just wants to see his daughter.”
“Catalina is not my daughter,” he said. He felt regret in saying it and she recognised it immediately.
“But you behave as if she was your daughter, now you know what happened in Solano. You saved her and gave her life and now she lives a good life in a nice house in a rich country with loving parents. What else does she need?”
“She needs to be protected from a monster like Kessler. He’ll either hang or die in a hail of police bullets and until that happens, he has to be kept away from her.”
“Then you have to tell the police. You can’t protect Catalina yourself. Not with that pistol. He will kill anyone and anything that gets in his way.”
***
“Johnny, tell Admiral Webb I’d be delighted to come back, if he’ll have me.”
“I’m sure he would, old chap. What changed your mind?”
“Sorry about yesterday, I was just a bit overwrought. But I never left the service really; it’s in my blood. In fact, I’m in a unique position to help with the Kessler case. I’m in the US at the moment.”
“Yes, I know – Las Vegas,” said Johnny with aplomb, confident with the latest intelligence.
“No, moved on from there. I’m in St Louis, Missouri and Kessler’s on his way here too.”
“How do you know?”
“Believe me, I know. He’s been following me around Europe ever since he killed Bergmann.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over a beer one day, but for now, just accept my word; he’s after me and he’s seen the same transcripts as you. Now I’m happy to be the bait but you must mobilise the US authorities. Get onto Interpol and the FBI and tell them they’ve got a Nazi war criminal turned commie assassin turning up on their doorstep and you have an agent already in St Louis waiting to brief them.”
“Harry, mate, they’ll go berserk if they think we put an MI6 man on their patch without permission.”
“Tell them I’ve been chasing him across the world, Johnny. Tell them I’m just trying to help. Special relationship and all that.”
“Okay. Where can I contact you?”
“You can’t. I don’t know who’s listening.”
“Cheeky sod.”
“Whatever. Do it now and I’ll call you tomorrow at the same time.”
***
They did the Belleview run again without success. A neighbour was mowing his lawn in front of the house directly opposite and he gave the Falcon a long hard look as they drifted by. They were running out of time.
***
“The wheels are in motion, Harry,” said Johnny Bristow the next day. “There’s not much else I can do.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’ve informed the relevant authorities and they’re taking it up from here.”
Harry saw red. The “relevant authorities” meant nothing was happening and nothing would happen. He’d lost patience.
“Get me Webb!”
“Er, I can’t do that, Harry.”
“Now!”
The line went quiet and he thought he’d been cut off but after two minutes another familiar voice came on the line, pompous and lugubrious in equal measure.
“Admiral Webb speaking.” Jesus!
“Harry Male, Admiral.”
“Ah yes, Male, I hear you’re in a spot of bother.” Harry was almost apoplectic with rage. I’m in a spot of bother?
“Admiral. Listen carefully before I do something we’ll all regret. I’m in the United States of America on the trail of a notorious international assassin who has, so far, been able to elude justice in West Germany and Italy. He’s wanted for war crimes, a string of political assassinations, the murders of several policemen and civilians and he’s been able to do most of this with the help of the British Secret Services.”
“Now wait just a minute, Male…”
“I have evidence that his arrival in St Louis, Missouri is imminent. He’s armed and extremely dangerous and if the Yanks want to grab him before he kills any of their own people, now’s the time to do it.”
“Look here!” blustered Webb.
“Shut up! So you get on the blower now to either the foreign secretary, Harold flaming MacMillan, J. Edgar bloody Hoover or the goddam president of the United States, whoever it takes, and you make sure they get a message to the St Louis police to alert them to an imminent threat and that they can expect a detailed brief from an MI6 officer in the next twenty-four hours.”
“You’re in no position to—”
“Or my next call will be to The Times. Do you understand… sir?”
“You’ll pay for this, Male.”
“Someone will, sir, that’s for sure.”
***
The afternoon traffic on the road to Belleview was light and the trip took less than half an hour. Harry steered the Falcon into Cedar Boulevard and past the Monti residence. Neither cowboy nor lawnmower man were in evidence, but then neither were the Montis. He drove to the end of the road and pulled into a car park that overlooked football fields.
Harry and Lucia stood in the sunshine, leaning against the front wing of the car watching a few dozen young men, all kitted out in helmets and padded American football gear, running around in circles throwing a ball and colliding with each other for no apparent reason. A rumble overhead distracted them all.
Five enormous bombers with impossibly long wingspans cruised by at low altitude, their eight whistling, whining jet engines throttled back, their flaps down and undercarriage lowered for landing. Even so, the noise was deafening.
“B-52s. Must be landing at Scott Air Force base,” said Harry but Lucia had her hands over her ears and her eyes closed. He put an arm around her and she clung on tightly.
“I can still hear the bombs,” she said, “as if it was yesterday.”
“I know.”
“What are they for, Harry? These planes are made to kill people.”
“They are made to deter people from killing other people.”
“Maybe one day, we won’t need them any more.”
The noise subsided and the college boys resumed their training session.
“C’mon, I’ll buy you a weak milky coffee and a Dunkin’ Donut,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Yuck! I’d rather have espresso and cannoli.”
“When in Rome…”
“But we are not in Rome?”
***
They decided to make one last pass of the house. It was six thirty; they were tired and subdued and had no expectations of seeing anything other than an empty drive and a dark house. The Montis could be on vacation for another week or more. They had no way of knowing. Lucia suddenly sat forward in her seat and gripped the dashboard.
“Harry! There is somebody there!” she gasped, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.
A large station wagon was parked in the drive: a twenty-foot long monster in two-tone brown and cream with faux-wood panelling along the sides and rails on the roof. The light was on in the porch, the curtains drawn. Harry drove the Falcon to the end of the road, turned round and pulled the car up fifty yards away from the house. He switched off the engine.
“I’m frightened, Harry.”
“I know. I’m nervous myself.”
“Maybe we should leave it until tomorrow. Then maybe the police will get the call and they can come too?”
Harry had already tried to think through the next steps but in the absence of the family, it had all seemed unreal, a perverse fantasy. He’d tried to rehearse what he would say to Gino and Viviana Monti and how he would feel when eventually he saw Catalina, what she would look like, how tall she’d be, how slim she’d be, how long her hair would be and whether she would be as beautiful as her mother. And her aunt.
He saw the baby again, pink and dusty and stained with Isabella’s blood, kicking and crying, clinging on to life when all around her there was only death, and he could not equate her to or imagine the eighteen-year-old woman in the house up ahead. He’d come this far. He could not bear to wait another day.
“No. We have to do this now.”
“Think, Harry!” she whispered and he sensed the urgency and fear in her voice. “If you go there now, what are you going to say?”
“I’m going to tell them the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth. There is only one truth.”
“No, there is the truth that you know and the truth they know. You know what you know because I told you. You were not there. You did not see it for yourself.”
“Are you saying it wasn’t true?” It filled him with dread to think she may have misled him in some way. No, please, God. Not you too, Lucia. What’s it got to do with God, Harry? “All those things you told me about Kessler and Isabella and the baby and Viviana. They were not true?”
“Of course they were true!” She burst into tears and covered her eyes with both hands.
“Then I don’t understand. Come here.” She fell into his arms and sobbed and he stroked her head and held her and after a while, she pulled a small handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her face.
“Let me explain,” she said with a final sniff and he turned in his seat to watch her. “Viviana thought the baby was hers. She thought God had brought her baby back from the dead or maybe had given her a new baby in its place. She would not let me near her. It was her baby. She had suffered for it and it was rightfully hers. And I remember the look on Gino’s face when he came home and his wife presented him with their child. Their child. Viviana could not explain even if she wanted to. It was too late for her by then. She had accepted her own version of the truth and Gino did not know otherwise. His wife was pregnant when he went away and when he came home, he was a father. You cannot now tell them it is not true. And you cannot tell Catalina or Giuliana that Gino and Viviana are not her parents. She will not believe you.”
“But Viviana must know. At some time in the last eighteen years, the reality must have dawned on her.”
“Yes, maybe. And if so, she has kept a terrible secret and she has paid the price for it, worrying every day that someone will come along and betray her. You cannot tell them it is a lie and that Viviana has known all this time. It will destroy them. It will destroy their family. You cannot do that, Harry. Why would you do that?”
Harry felt overcome with sadness. She was right. What exactly was he trying to achieve now and what price would have to be paid? It wouldn’t be he who suffered. It would be the Montis and they would be made to suffer for no reason other than to satisfy his own pathetic insecurities. He would get to meet the young lady whose life he’d saved and he’d be able to tell her how it all happened and who her mother really was and who her grandfather really was. And then, she would hate him forever. It may as well be a lie because it would never, ever take the place of the truth as they knew it.
“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t upset them for anything and I wouldn’t upset you either, Lucia. It breaks my heart to think of it. The sad fact is, though, it’s too late.”
“Why? Why is it too late?”
“Because someone else knows the truth, our truth, and he won’t hesitate to use it to get what he wants. If I don’t do something, Kessler will cause pain and suffering beyond anyone’s worst nightmare. I have seen it. I know him. I have to stop him and that means speaking to the Montis and warning them.”
“Wait for the police, Harry.”
“I can’t be sure Webb did anything or if he did whether they took him seriously or even if they did, how long it will take for them to react. The Montis are here now and Kessler will be here soon and I can’t afford to wait. I caused this mess and I have to clear it up. I owe it to them.” She turned to look at him and he affected a weak smile. “Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”
She leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips. “We owe it to them, Harrimale.”
“We?”
“I told Kessler the baby lived, not you. You didn’t know. I’m the reason he’s coming after her. It’s my problem too.”
“Well then,” he sighed. “What do we do?”
***
Lucia rang the doorbell and stepped back. Harry stayed one or two steps behind. They’d decided she would lead the conversation, gauge the reaction and then they might be able to steer the conversation towards the threat. Gino had been a partisan; he’d killed Germans; he was on a list; there was a crazy Nazi hell-bent on revenge; they were here to warn him. It was flimsy, but it was better than nothing.
Harry looked around; there was nothing untoward. Nobody watching or driving by; just a typically quiet evening in Cedar Boulevard. He heard the door latch and he faced forward again. A man in his forties, paunchy, thinning hair and black moustache, appeared in the open doorway. He looked questioningly at the two strangers outside his house, as if waiting for one of them to explain their presence. Lucia opened the pleasantries.
“Gino?” she said extending her hands and it was clear she recognised him. “It’s Lucia. Lucia Girardi?”
Gino Monti opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shriek from behind him and he turned. A woman appeared at his side, a hand over her mouth, a look of shock and terror on her face.
“Lucia?” she whispered, barely able to pronounce her name. Harry’s heart filled with an icy dread. This was all going wrong before it had even started. The box was open and the demons ready to escape. There was no going back. “Is it you?” continued Viviana Monti. “Oh my God! Gino, it’s Lucia!”
Then to Harry’s astonishment, Viviana stepped through the porch, rushed forward and threw her arms around Lucia and squeezed her so hard he thought Lucia might suffocate. The two women held each other, weeping uncontrollably, while Gino looked non-plussed and embarrassed and shrugged at Harry, who gave him a rueful smile.
“Madre Maria. Dio abbia pietà di lei!” God have mercy on her. “Nel nome del padre.” Viviana launched into her mantra and Gino stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. She released Lucia and kissed her forehead and made the sign of the cross in the air between them. Then, grabbing Lucia’s hand, she pulled her inside the house. Gino shrugged again and gestured Harry to follow.
The hallway was wide and long and opened into a large open-plan sitting room. Harry could see a dining table and chairs at the far end and, beyond that, floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto a wide expanse of lawn. The women were hugging each other again and talking animatedly in Italian and Harry couldn’t keep up. He extended a hand to Gino.
“Harry Male.”
“Eugenio Monti. Welcome to my home. Ladies! Hey! Please speak English or Harry will think you are talking about him.” It broke the ice and they all laughed.
The two couples sat opposite each other on sofas separated by a glass-topped coffee table and Gino served them white wine and olives. Harry felt inadequate trying to compete with three excitable Italians, even if they were speaking his language.
“How did you find us?” said Gino. It sounded an innocent enough question but to Harry it signalled the start of the interrogation. He decided it was time he made a contribution.
“Immigration records from the National Archives. Even in the land of the free, they keep track of who’s coming and going.”
“You are English?” asked Viviana.
“Yes, for my sins.”
“And how do you know Lucia?”
“We met a long time ago. I was in Italy during the war. In Solano. We met briefly then and I was lucky enough to find her again after all this time.” He tried to make it sound innocuous, but as with all half-truths, it simply spawned more questions.
“And what brings you here, to Belleview?” said Gino, looking first at Harry and then Lucia, who jumped in.
“I wanted to see you again.”
Gino nodded sagely. “You wanted to see us?” He was inviting her to continue, to say what she really meant, lest he had to spell it out.
Lucia kept smiling but sounded anxious. “How’s Giuliana? She must be a beautiful young woman by now?”
Viviana and Gino looked at each other and she took his hand.
“Gino knows, Lucia. He knows we are not Giuliana’s parents. He knows we adopted her from you.” She turned her eyes on Lucia and they were kindly and warm. “We will be forever grateful to you for bringing Giuliana into our lives and I will be forever sorry that I sent you away.”
Harry watched the scene unfold as if he were in a dream. It had never once occurred to him their meeting would be so wonderfully benign and emotional. He’d assumed they’d encounter denial, rage and rejection; their meeting would turn out to be destructive and hideously awful with nothing to be gained other than, potentially, the capture of Ernst Kessler. Kessler’s evil had pervaded his thoughts, rendering him incapable of seeing the good. Well, he was seeing the good now and his relief was palpable. He tried to lighten the mood.
“I’m pleased you sent her away. Otherwise I may not have found her.” He took Lucia’s hand and winked at her.
“Are you two married?” asked Viviana.
“No!” they said simultaneously.
“Not yet,” said Lucia. She took a deep breath. “Harry delivered your baby.”
Their eyes said it all. They could not have expected it.
“You are a doctor?” asked Gino, but before Harry could answer Lucia jumped in.
“No, he’s just a soldier. But he’s a brave soldier. Giuliana was born of my sister Isabella. There was an explosion which destroyed our house and killed Isabella and my papà. She was killed giving birth and Harry was trying to help but he was injured too. He cut open her dead body to get Giuliana out. I saw it myself and then he collapsed and I thought he would die too, so I took the baby and ran and then eventually I turned up at your house.”
They sat quietly for a while, sombre, in prayer for the dead.
Viviana wiped away a tear. “I must have had my baby at the same time. But God took her. And then the angel brought one to me and I pretended I had given birth to a healthy child. I lied to Gino and I was afraid you would say something and spoil it for me. I am sorry. For five years, I kept a terrible secret. And then, Giuliana became ill and no one knew what was wrong with her and we decided to bring her to America. The doctors said she needed a blood transfusion and we said we will give ours. We will give all of ours!” She gave a hollow laugh. “I am type O blood and Gino is type B, but Giuliana is type A. This is not possible.” Gino squeezed his wife’s hand. “He forgave me. He said, ‘It does not matter, Viviana. We have a child.’ But I always wondered what happened to you, Lucia.”
“We have to thank you both,” said Gino, “for our beautiful daughter. Giuliana knows too. We told her when she was twelve.”
But the girl they were all talking about was nowhere to be seen and Harry could wait no longer.
“Is Giuliana here? May we see her?”
“She has gone out with her boyfriend, Brad. We have been away for two weeks and she has not seen him. You know how these young folks are. She will be back soon.”
The doorbell rang. Gino got to his feet and went to the window. He turned with a look of consternation.
“It’s the sheriff,” he announced and went out into the hallway.
Harry jumped to his feet, a brief wave of optimism and relief washing over him. He hoped the arrival of the sheriff was the advance party, the precursor to the cavalry. But his professional instinct told him there was something wrong. He rushed to the window and looked down the drive. A brown sedan was parked on the road. It had lights on the roof and a six-point star motif on the door. Even from the distance of fifty feet, he could see the driver’s window was wound down and through it, the crazed pattern on the windscreen, like a spider’s web. He followed Gino, pulling the Colt from the holster and yanking back the slide.
“Gino! No!”
But he was too late. Gino’s frame was blocking the door and his view to the outside. His hands were in the air and he was shuffling backwards.
“Drop the weapon, Harry,” said the hidden voice. “Or you know I will kill this man without hesitation.”
Lucia came up behind him and Viviana screamed. “Gino!”
“Back inside,” said Harry, fingering the trigger.
“What’s happening?” said Lucia. “Oh God.”
“I said drop the weapon.”
Harry reluctantly lowered the Colt to the floor and they all retreated into the sitting room. A tall man with a shaven head appeared from behind Gino, holding a Makarov. He wore an ill-fitting, crumpled sheriff’s uniform with bloodstains on the collar. He picked up the Colt and slid it into his pocket.
“Please, everyone, sit. I shall not take long and then I shall leave you.”
“Who is this guy?” said Gino, holding his distraught wife tightly.
“His name is Ernst Kessler,” said Lucia.
“What do you want?” gasped Viviana.
“Where is my daughter?”
The Montis looked at each other in shock, but it was Lucia who answered. “He’s Giuliana’s father.”
“Signora Lucia, how nice to see you again. Lucia is my sister-in-law. Please. Sit. Now!” He waved the gun to emphasise his point.
“You know this man?” said Viviana as they lowered themselves onto the sofas as if in a daze.
“He was in love with my sister.”
“Isabella was in love with me too,” countered Kessler.
Harry blinked. He’d sensed a flicker of emotion, the faintest whiff of humanity from the mouth of the monster.
“She had no choice,” continued Lucia calmly.
“She had a choice!” the monster roared, snuffing out the human in a split second.
“But he is German. He was a Nazi?” said Gino as the terrible truth dawned on him.
“I’m afraid so,” said Harry. “The worst sort. We came here to warn you, but we were too late.”
“Enough!” barked Kessler. “Where is my Eva?”
“Eva?” Viviana’s confusion was complete.
“I named my daughter Eva.”
“Her name is Giuliana!” shouted Gino.
“That name is not valid.”
“She’s not here, Ernst,” said Harry, “and the cops will be here soon so I suggest you make a break for it while you can.”
“I will wait,” said Kessler. “I have waited so long.”
Viviana began to weep and Gino tried to comfort her. Harry stood up and faced him.
“Sit down, Harry, I don’t want to shoot you again.”
“Well, you’ve already had two tries and missed both times, Ernst. Don’t you know an angel was looking after me?” He knew the risk. Kessler would shoot them all in the blink of an eye. But he felt an unnatural sense of empowerment, an invulnerability that belied the facts of their situation. “I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here but whatever you want, it’s not possible.”
“I want my daughter back!” he snapped. “It is not complicated.” But then, he seemed to relax and his voice took on a courteous note. “I did not thank you, Harry, for saving her and I am sorry I tried to kill you. It was just a misunderstanding. And I thank you, Lucia, for finding these nice people to care for Eva in my absence. Signore and Signora Monti, I thank you for bringing her up on my behalf. I trust she was not a difficult child?” He grinned at his quip but then turned serious. “So, I thank you all for your help and sacrifice, but I have come back now and I no longer need your services. Eva will come with me and we shall live as father and daughter together.”
“No!” wept Viviana.
“You will have to kill me first,” snarled Gino.
“That is no problem and can be arranged.”
Harry gestured to Gino to stay calm. He mimicked Kessler’s tone, courteous but sympathetic.
“Ernst. Eva doesn’t know who you are. This is her home and these are her parents. There is no way she can be happy with you.”
“Nein!”
“Why do you chaps always have to shout? Can’t we just have a grown-up conversation without you frothing at the mouth and bellowing orders? The trouble with you lot is you always think you’re right.”
“But I am right. Eva belongs to me. She is my flesh and blood!”
“We know that, Ernst.” Harry was determined to stay on first-name terms, like a hostage situation where language and names were designed to placate the aggressor; calm things down. But somehow it seemed appropriate for another reason. He knew Ernst Kessler. They had a shared history and a shared trauma. Harry wished they had met before the war. Maybe he had once been normal? Maybe they could have been friends? “But you’re a man on the run. You’re wanted in Germany and Italy; you’re wanted by our side and your own side…”
“I do not have a side!”
“… and soon, you’ll be wanted in America. Where are you going to run to next, Ernst? Where are you going to hide with Giuliana?”
“Eva!”
“You have no place to go. You have no country, no home, no friends. Only enemies. The whole world is against you.”
“The whole world was always against me!” he shouted. “The whole world was against us all. All we wanted was to make a better world for everyone!”
Harry forced a laugh. “Really? You mean everyone apart from the Jews. And the Slavs. Oh, let’s see.” Harry made a show of scratching his head. “Then there’s Communists, blacks, homosexuals – although you had one or two of your own, didn’t you? Let’s skip over that one. Gypsies, er, anyone with a disability, an IQ under a hundred. I could go on.”
“The trouble with you English is you think the same as we do but you say something else. We asked you to join us. Together we could have conquered the world, be rid of the filth and the retards, but you wanted it all for yourself. And now look. The world is a mess and you created it.”
“You lost Ernst. Get over it!”
“We have not finished.”
“You won’t be finished until you’ve killed everyone. How many have you killed, Ernst? Did you keep score or have you lost count?”
“Sometimes it is necessary.”
“Are you going to kill us all too?”
“It should not be necessary, unless you try to stop me or get in my way.”
Kessler’s anger was building steadily, but Harry still felt