I was stunned. ‘It’s probably just routine questioning,’ I said, more in hope than belief. ‘What did they ask you about?’
Italo gave a nervous shrug, ‘They asked if I knew Kuller personally or had ever met him. They even asked if I knew him by reputation. I completely denied any knowledge of him. They then asked me about Reder and his connection with Monte Sole. I had to admit to knowing about him through recent TV coverage. They seemed happy enough with that, although I was blown away when your name even came up in questioning. They knew about your family being killed by the SS, and they wanted to know how friendly we were and how we first met. They asked me if I knew about Italian hand grenades from our time with the partisans, or had any in my possession. I denied anything that would have compromised us.’
‘They’re certainly fast off the mark Italo, but they can’t prove anything, it’s all just wind in the air.’
‘Maybe so Bruno, but we have to be extra careful from now on. My main worry is that nut case Graziano. Suppose he goes for Reder and his gang again and is caught this time. He will have no problem singing out to the police about us. It wasn’t me mister, it was the big boys, they made me do it.’
‘We’ll have to speak to Graziano about this and there’s no time like the present. Come on.’ We left the park feeling, for the first time, that this was all spiralling out of our control. We made for my car and drove to Graziano’s flat; number 1A, ground floor on Via Venezia.
Graziano heard the knock on the door and looked at his watch. ‘Ten thirty at night. This can’t be good news at the door,’ he said to himself.
When he opened the door and saw me and Italo standing there he was taken completely by surprise, although he quickly recovered his composure.
We stood at the door looking at each other for a while before Graziano invited us in.
‘Is this a social call, boys?’ said an ever cool Graziano.
‘The police have been talking to Italo about Kuller. We think they suspect our involvement in his murder,’ I said.
Graziano smiled as he sat down. ‘Sit down, boys and rest your legs for a while. I have to say that they may suspect both of you of murder, but it certainly doesn’t involve me. I wasn’t even there.’
Italo, his face reddened with anger, stood up and pointed his finger at Graziano. ‘You are as guilty as us, you lying bastard! If we go down then you do as well.’
Graziano smiled that annoying little smile of condescension that can infuriate a man to kill another. ‘Prove it Italo, I’ll deny everything.’
I said, ‘What about the grenades you planted?’
Graziano shrugged his shoulders, ‘What grenades? I don’t know anything about grenades. Aren’t you boys the experts in bombs and explosives? Haven’t you killed using them before? I’m sure the authorities are aware of that. I only sold fruit and veg in mountain villages, which is not much of a training background for bomb making. Wasn’t it you boys who were trained by the partisans in explosives and various other ways in killing people?’
Italo, holding his temper in check, tried another tack. ‘Knowing that the police are sniffing around us, don’t you think it would be wise not to aggravate the situation by planting any more bombs?’
Graziano laughed, ‘Are you boys wired for sound or something? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What bombs?
Without saying anything else Italo turned to leave. We could both see that it was no use even talking to the old man. Graziano didn’t trust anyone and especially not us.
‘Graziano,’ I said, very quietly, ‘don’t try for the rest of Reder’s gang or even Reder himself. You have already killed over thirty people and maimed many more. If you do try again I will take you down without a second thought, so don’t try taking the moral high ground. You are a mass murderer and I will kill you to prevent you killing again.’
Graziano stood up and faced me; ‘Bruno, you forget who these people are. Do you think you can stop me bringing justice to the dead of Monte Sole? To do that you will have to turn a deaf ear to your parents, your brothers and sister, and also to your other relatives. They cry out for vengeance Bruno, are you listening?’
We stood silently facing each other, and without another word Italo and I left the flat.
Once we were outside Italo said, ‘That bastard is going to set us up for a fall. We have to take him down and make it look like an accident otherwise the police will screw us.’
I looked at my friend, ‘We can’t just go around killing people on spec, Italo. Even to protect more lives. I know what I said in there, but I couldn’t just kill an old man who hasn’t harmed us.’
‘What if the police are thinking of pinning the murder of thirty odd people on us Bruno? What then? What if their evidence is based on Graziano’s testimony? What if they charge him and he implicates us in exchange for immunity? Should I carry on, Bruno? Because I can think of a hundred reasons why we should get rid of him.’
‘Do they include the scenario that if the police are watching us with undercover surveillance and possibly electronic as well, they may be slightly annoyed if they see us killing someone who may be their star witness in a multiple murder case?’
Italo stopped walking and stood still. He looked at me with an incredulous look on his face. I didn’t say anything and waited to hear what he had to say.
‘I remember you as a young boy hiding on the hillside outside Marzabotto, frightened and angry. I said I would help you Bruno, and you trusted me with your life. We saw things that took us into a hell where we shook hands with the Devil, but we survived; and now I’m asking you to trust me again. I know it’s hard to believe but we have no option. We have our own families to protect, not just ourselves, and we should bear in mind that this murderer is as bad as they come. Never forget Bruno, he has already killed thirty people and is planning to kill many more. He has to be stopped, and we can’t ask the police to do it.’
Reluctantly, I agreed.
We eventually pulled into the first roadside trattoria we came to and parked near the entrance. I wasn’t sure if we were just being paranoid or merely careful but, for sure, we were both spooked. I wanted to make sure that if we had to, we could make a fast exit.
‘You feel hungry Italo?’ I said, trying to appear light. ‘Let’s try the pizza. This place has a reputation for making a good tomato and seafood.’
Italo looked at me with mock pity written all over his face; ‘Don’t feel you have to give me a pep talk, Bruno. I was the one who helped train you, remember?’
‘Suitably scolded old friend, let’s eat and then talk about what we do next.’
Our snack was rapidly devoured without much conversation passing between us.
We both knew that we had to do something about Graziano, but what?
Even if we killed him it still wouldn’t get the police off our back. We passed it backwards and forwards between us for about an hour, and we were getting nowhere. The problem always came back to the police. How do we get them off our scent and onto Graziano?
The answer to our problem came unexpectedly to me as we mulled over the problem. ‘Italo, we need to kill the two of them together, Graziano and Ivana, and make it look like a suicide. We need to get them to sign a letter admitting to the bombing and the killing of Kuller, and as they are now so full of remorse at their terrible actions they have decided to end their lives. That clears us of any involvement in the bombing and also gets us off the hook for Kuller’s death as well.’
Italo said, ‘Quite a good plan, but how do we get them both to write and sign the letter? Old Graziano is as tough as they come.’
I admitted I hadn’t worked that part out, but I couldn’t think of any other way of silencing the Sambuccis and getting the police off our trail.
‘Bruno, doesn’t Graziano have a niece on his brother’s side that he treats like a daughter? Maybe we could put some pressure on him there.’
‘Do you mean to threaten her?’
‘No Brun
o, to threaten Graziano with her death if he doesn’t sign.’
‘So you think that giving him the choice of killing himself and his wife or allowing his niece to be killed, that he will say “yes, I’ll kill my wife and myself; let my niece live”?’ We both burst out laughing at this ridiculous notion.
Even though we discarded this idea, there was some merit in part of his plan, perhaps we could fake a suicide note from them and work out some way to kill them so it looked like suicide.
We decided to sleep on it and meet again the following day.
Alone at home, I allowed my mind free licence to roam over these events.
What a twist of fate it was that was now proving to be the driving force in my life, that I should be striving to save the lives of the SS men who were responsible for the deaths of so many of my friends and possibly even my family; and that I should be plotting the murder of two old villagers from Monte Sole. Such irony could fail to go unnoticed and perhaps could even prove to be the thing that saved Italo and me from arrest by the police.
Comandante Vittorio Bertolini had just left a meeting with his two subordinates who had interviewed Italo Arcari. He was left with the impression that there could be something in this story of bombs, murder, and intrigue from Austria that had landed on his desk. Probably the next step would be to interview the other Italian national in the story; Bruno Verdi. He noted with mild interest that Verdi was Jewish and wondered if there was some connection with the SS massacre on Monte Sole during the war. Was this an act of reprisal? He decided to interview Verdi himself as he had probably been primed for police questioning through his friend Arcari and could prove to be a tough nut to crack.
His interest factor moved from mild to very interested when his research revealed that Verdi and Arcari had been together in the Partisan Brigade from Bologna, and that Arcari had originally been in the partisan band that was wiped out on Monte Sole. This information, coupled with the fact that he already knew that Verdi’s family was massacred on the mountain by the SS, gave the investigation a new edge.
He would visit Verdi the next day.
Chapter 15
When I heard the officious-sounding knock on my door I suspected it was the police. Maria opened it and was greeted with the introduction, ‘Good afternoon signora, I’m Comandante Bertolini.’ I could see that Maria was taken by surprise as she let out a little gasp. Perhaps she had been expecting something like this to happen.
‘Could I have a word with signor Bruno Verdi, if he’s at home?’
At this, I went to the door and invited the Comandante in.
I thought the best place to speak to him was in the kitchen, so I sat there at the table in front of him and waited.
Bertolini took his time to speak. He shuffled some papers around in his briefcase in an apparent attempt to unsettle me.
‘Signor Verdi, I’m investigating the death of Hans Kuller and the bombing of the Hotel Bristol. Are you familiar with these events?’
‘Yes I am, but only what I’ve seen on TV or read in the papers.’
‘Were you and your friend Signor Arcari not at the hotel the night Herr Kuller was found dead?’
‘Yes we were, but with all the police activity and a suicide in the hotel it wasn’t a good atmosphere to be in, so we left.’
Bertolini looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Why would you travel all the way up to Vienna and not stay overnight? Why should you come straight home because you were put off by the activity in the Hotel?’
Without hesitation I answered him. ‘Comandante, we were there on a short visit, and by accident we found ourselves in a hotel full of ex SS comrades, plus a dead man who apparently committed suicide. We found it the least distasteful to say and we decided to leave. We didn’t know where to look for a room at that time of night, so we went for a drink then caught the train home.’
‘Why did you choose Vienna and that particular hotel at that particular time?’
At this point in our conversation, Maria walked into the kitchen and sat beside me at the table. ‘I couldn’t help but listening in Bruno. I never knew you were there at the hotel when it all happened.’
I knew she was secretly seething at me for lying to her, but at least she had the presence of mind not to show it in front of Bertolini. I held her hand in mind and gave it a loving squeeze. ‘I was just explaining to the Comandante that it was a spur of the moment decision that didn’t work out very well, Maria.’
Bertolini was watching us very closely, obviously looking for a weakness in my explanation. He said, ‘Tell me about the Sambucci couple you met there at the hotel.’
I took a deep breath before answering, ‘I knew them from when I was a boy in my home village before the massacre. I know you’re aware about what happened on Monte Sole from your talk with Italo Arcari; however I knew the Sambucci’s lived in Bologna on Via Venezia and I also knew they would be there at the Hotel Bristol at the same time we were going, so we had agreed to meet up there.’
Bertolini gave me a condescending look, ‘Do you expect me to believe that four survivors of the Monte Sole massacre booked into the same hotel, on the same night that the SS unit responsible for the slaughter were having a reunion dinner, and that one of the main perpetrators of the massacre was found dead in his room by an apparent suicide. Also, the fact that the same hotel was bombed later by Italian WWII hand grenades that you and your friend Arcari were trained in using during your time with the partisans, and that thirty innocent people were killed. Have I missed anything out?’ he asked in a pseudo-comical sounding voice.
I could hear Maria taking a sharp intake of breath. This was the first time that all of the details had been packaged up so neatly for her, and it was proving to be a frightening experience. There was the distinct possibility that her husband was a killer many times over.
Werner Brenst sat at home looking over what he had just written in his notebook. He was concerned over a few points in his unofficial investigation. The first one was he didn’t trust the Italian police to follow this investigation through to its proper conclusion, and secondly, he was becoming more convinced that the older Italian, Graziano Sambucci, was responsible for the murder of Hans Kuller. He knew that he had the room next door to Kuller at the hotel, and that his family had been murdered by him on the mountain. In other words, he had motive and was in the right place at the right time. He suspected that the other two younger Italians were involved in the bombing of the hotel, but as that didn’t immediately concern him, they weren’t his prime focus. ‘I’ll sort out the old man first, then I will make the other two pay for trying to bomb us all. Yes, the old man was the one. He had killed my friend Kuller.’ To Brenst, the military bond of those years was indissoluble, even after all of this time in civilian life, in his eyes, if Kuller had not gone down in the snow to help him up, and then stay down with him when the Russian tank appeared, he would probably have died with the rest of his squad that day. He felt he owed Kuller a brotherly debt for saving his life, and in the SS tradition he now felt the time was right to repay that debt with the taking of his killer’s life. He now made plans to revisit Bologna, his previous killing ground, to kill again. This time it was for the honour of his comrade.
Chapter 16
Graziano was acting agitated and bad tempered. Ivana clearly knew the reason for his change of mood. He was concerned in case the two men returned to harm them. She watched him as he cleaned and loaded his old Beretta before putting it in the sideboard drawer in the kitchen.
He didn’t talk about why he was doing this. He didn’t have to. Ivana had known him long enough to recognise fear in his eyes. Like the day on the mountain when they had witnessed the massacre of their family. That day Graziano had the same look. A kind of fear mixed in with anger. He turned to face her. ‘Ivana, until all of this is over I want you to keep the door locked at all times and to be careful who you open it to. OK?’
Ivana walked across to him and gave him a hug. ‘Graziano,
amore, we have been through so much together and we will see this through together. Don’t worry so much, no one suspects us, we’re in the clear. Don’t worry about Italo and Bruno, they won’t come for us or harm us.’
Graziano seemed to relax a little. ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe not, but we’ll take extra precautions just in case.’
Maria had calmed down a little. She was now thinking clearly and wanted some more answers as she still wasn’t sure of the truth. ‘I want to understand why you lied to me about the fishing trip, Bruno, and why you couldn’t trust me to understand why you had to go to find Kuller.’I tried to explain to her that I wanted to keep her out of this. This was something I had to do, but even feeling that way, I still hadn’t killed Kuller. I had promised Maria that I wouldn’t and I had kept that promise.
She had gone upstairs to be alone and I sought comfort in a bottle of grappa. My mind was in total confusion. ‘Where do I turn now? Who do I speak to? What should I now do?’ I just sat in my armchair and gradually emptied the bottle until I fell asleep. It seemed to be an easier solution. When I eventually awoke it was daylight and Moreno was sitting opposite me with a look of disgust on his face.
‘Papà, this is no answer to the problem. Don’t go down this road.’ At this he got up and left for work. My head was throbbing and my throat was dry, so I went upstairs to probably face another hard time from Maria.
Werner bought his ticket at the platform machine before boarding the train. He wanted to get to Bologna for around sunset, do what he had planned and then return on the train back to Vienna the same night.
He had it set in his mind how this would go. He would force entry into the Sambucci’s home and kill the old man. Bang, bang. Two shots, then out the door. He would be wearing a face mask so he wouldn’t be recognised in case Sambucci’s wife was there. He smiled to himself ‘Once I kill him I will be even with Kuller and will be free of any commitment to the SS. I won’t attend any more of their meetings. It’s time to move on.’
Legacy of Sorrows Page 12