to Norway under forged orders on my first assignment for Uncle Ike. Click. Another memory fell neatly into place. Click. Harry at the MTB base in Algeria, swinging his fist and threatening to kill me. That had been on my next assignment. Not every memory was a happy one.
Except for one. Who was that one?
'I am speaking to you!' Genovese shouted, a white gob of spittle hanging from his lip. He wiped it and slammed his hand, palm down, on the table.
'We are deserters,' Kaz said, with a quick glance at me. 'The dottore was going to hide us in the mountains. We thought we could sell cigarettes on the black market. We have connections.'
'What, are you going to sell Limey smokes?' Legs thought he was a comic.
'No, we have someone in the American supply services. He has access to everything-cigarettes, penicillin, liquor.'
'What about this one?' Genovese asked, pointing to me.
'He is shell-shocked. He's been in the fighting. The man in supply is his cousin, so I need to keep him safe. That's why we're hiding out here.'
I had to admire Kaz-it was a good story. A little truth, a little lie, and told with no hesitation. Liars usually hesitate, even for a fraction of a second, but the truth comes out smoothly, since people don't have to think about it. It just is.
'How did you choose this farm?' Genovese asked.
'I have access to reconnaissance photos. I picked it out because there are no main roads, no intersections, nothing of military value. The track turns to a trail and winds up into the hills. No one, German or American, should be very interested. So I offered the Ciccolos payment for a few days' shelter.'
'How did you get here?' Legs asked.
'We had a jeep, but a Messerschmitt came out of the sun and strafed us. We jumped out, but he got the jeep. We left it burning in a field a few miles from here.'
Legs looked at Genovese, reluctantly conceding that they'd seen the wreck.
Except for one. My mind raced, and I felt the woman of my dreams close by.
Except for one.
'How much penicillin can you get?' Legs asked. He'd bought the whole line and was ready to cash in. He was a solid enforcer, but that didn't make him the brightest guy in the room.
'Stop,' Genovese said. 'They are lying. Don't be stupid.' He caught Muschetto's eye and pointed at Sciafani and the door. The big Sicilian grabbed Sciafani and led him outside.
'No,' Kaz said, 'don't…'
'Don't worry,' Genovese said, his voice calm again. 'We need doctors in Sicily. It is time for us to talk, just among soldiers.'
'What do you want?' I asked. My hands were still in my lap, but they weren't shaking. When Legs said penicillin, there'd been another click. The hospital in Algiers. Kaz had been shot in the arm while rescuing Harding and me from the Vichy jail. Click. I was somewhere else, watching a newsreel of my life play out in my mind, each new episode a revelation.
'I respect a man who can focus on the business at hand,' Genovese said, the smile playing across his face a mask, broad and false. 'So I will tell you what I want. I want the man who was put ashore before the invasion to meet with Don Calo Vizzini. I want to help him to complete his mission. Do you know such a man?'
'He sounds like a failure,' I said. I tried to concentrate on Genovese, but I was seeing a woman raise a pistol to her head-who was she?- echoing the thoughts I'd had earlier. An end to all this, an end to suffering and pain. I understood what she'd wanted. To go to that other place, where the suffering had not yet reached, and never would.
'Not yet. He still can complete his mission, and I can help him.' Genovese sounded like a pal. 'Even though he has done 'many bad things'.'
I laughed. 'Many bad things? We're in the middle of a fucking war, and you talk about 'many bad things'?'
'Billy,' Kaz began.
I cut him off. ''Many bad things'. You don't know, Vito. Even in your blood-soaked dreams, you have no idea.' I couldn't stop laughing.
'Where is the handkerchief? Search them,' Genovese said to Legs. 'Find it and we will all bring it to Don Calo.'
Legs lifted Kaz up by the armpits and started to pat him down. It was just the four of us in the kitchen now, and while Legs was searching Kaz, Genovese drew his. 45 again, but this time held it cradled close to his chest.
'Do you know who Don Calo is?' he asked me.
'Somebody who needs to blow his nose?'
He snapped his hand holding the. 45 at me, slamming the barrel against my temple. He was fast, so fast that before I noticed the blood dripping from my head he had brought the pistol back, a satisfied smile on his face.
'I believe you are the man we have been looking for,' Genovese said. 'I believe that you know where the handkerchief is. And I believe you will give it to us, and we will all be heroes.'
'He's clean,' Legs said after thoroughly searching Kaz, who was lacing up his boots.
Genovese, gestured at me with the pistol. 'Search him, then the house, if he doesn't have it.'
I thought about going for the gun, and then there was another click. Harry, going for a woman's gun, coming up from behind her, and snatching it away.
Diana. The woman had been Diana, Daphne's sister. She was the woman of my dreams. Diana, who'd been kidnapped, drugged, and raped by a Vichy rat, Luc Villard. Except for him, I was sure every man I'd killed was a better man than Vito Genovese. Diana, who wondered if I still loved her, if I'd be man enough to stand by her.
I'd killed Luc Villard in Algeria with a knife slid between his ribs. He wasn't resisting or shooting at me. But I'd deliberately pulled a knife and ended his life. For a brief time, he had been the enemy, officially. But when I'd killed him, he was technically an ally. I'd had murdered him. I'd had to murder him. It was impossible to let him go on living after what he'd done. It was my decision, and all the blood in his veins couldn't wash away the fear and shame I'd felt, not knowing for certain if I would be man enough to take Diana into my arms and love her after what had happened.
Harry had saved Diana, stopped her from ending her life, and as certain as pulling the hammer back on a revolver, the next click fell into place. Harry Dickinson. I owed him for that, but I'd repaid the debt by killing him. Here in Sicily, in the Valley of the Temples, the night before the invasion. Click. I felt Legs lay his hands on my shoulders. My head was pounding, I was dizzy, and it felt like there was a weight pressing down on my chest. I didn't know if I could stand, but Genovese had his. 45 leveled at me.
'Up,' he said.
'Fuck you,' I told him. I had nothing left but a curse.
Vito's mouth curled into a sneer. He was about to speak when the door flew open and Muschetto stepped into the room. ' Molti tedeschi ,' he spat out. ' Andiamo.'
'Germans?' Genovese said in disbelief, his eyes wide. Muschetto vanished outside and we heard the sound of the Fiat motor starting. I jumped up, the dizziness gone, grabbed Legs by the arms and threw him at Genovese. The two of them collapsed to the floor as Genovese's chair tipped back. I knew Kaz was following me as I ran out the rear door, but I didn't look back. I ran-past the grape arbor, around the house, trampling beans and daisies as I went, diving for cover behind a jumble of rocks.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still see Harry, coming around the stone column of an ancient temple, not knowing that I'd just rolled a grenade in his direction. I'd hesitated a fraction of a second, but that was all the time it had taken for the blast. That was the last thing I remembered, except for fleeting glimpses of Roberto helping me.
I'd killed Harry.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
