by Wolf Wootan
He paused at that point and looked at Carmelo and Hatch. Carmelo nodded for him to continue.
“I waited for the police to arrive and told them what happened. I have a permit to carry, so my gun was no problem. They did take it for ballistics checks, however, just to sort out if I was telling the truth, I guess, and who shot who. They also took the paper.”
“It’s good you got a picture of it, or we would have no clue as to why they wanted it,” said Hatch.
Carmelo said, “I’m not sure we do know, yet. I have translated it from Italian to English for you. Maybe someone here can make some sense out of it. It is a letter written in 1863 by a man named Gardo Carfagno. I have two translations, one using the language style of that period, the second using modern English, which is easier to understand.”
He took a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Hatch. Hatch read it quickly, then sipped his wine.
“Syd, I know you’re supposed to be on vacation, but you’re the history specialist here. Would you look at this and see what you can make of it?” asked Hatch.
“Sure. You know me, I love a mystery!”
She took it and read it through twice, then passed it to Sara.
“In a nutshell, this guy Carfagno says that in 1863 that his wife had a son. He, Carfagno, was some sort of lackey, or servant, for the Prince of Monterra, Alfonso di Conti. On the same day, the Prince’s wife had a daughter. For reasons not stated in the letter, Carfagno is approached by the Prince, who made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: swap kids, keep his mouth shut, and get a large sum of money; or be executed. The purpose of the letter—it’s not addressed to anyone in particular—is evidently to document the fact that the Prince’s son is a Carfagno, not a di Conti, and that his daughter, who will be raised as a Carfagno, is really a di Conti, possible heir to the throne. My question is ‘So what?’ Why would anyone kill for this information?” answered Syd.
“Where in the fuck is Monterra?” asked Sara, putting the letter down.
“It’s an island nation off the coast of Italy, northwest of Sardinia,” replied Carmelo, grinning at Sara.
“Any ideas on how to proceed, Syd?” asked Hatch.
“First, it sounds like a police matter. What have the police said, Carmelo?” asked Syd.
“That is also a very strange situation, which really confuses me. I went to the police to make arrangements to have Gino’s body released for burial. They told me that the case had been taken over by SISDE,” replied Carmelo.
Hatch interrupted, “Maybe a little background is necessary here, Carmelo. SISDE is Servizio Informazione e Sicurezza Democratica, the civilian arm of the Italian intelligence services. Carmelo was a high-ranking member of that organization until 1997. He left them to take over things here in Rome for Triple Eye. The entire intelligence community here was undergoing a big shakeup and Carmelo was caught in the crossfire and chose us as a better career path. We’re still thankful for that. The strange thing here—SISDE taking over the investigation of what appears to be a common mugging—is that SISDE areas of interest are anti-crime, anti-mafia, and anti-terrorism; not ordinary street crimes.”
Syd absorbed this information, then said, “So, you’re saying that this is something larger than just two thugs trying to rob Gino and the archeologist?”
“I’m beginning to think so,” replied Alberto. “As I think back, those thugs were definitely interested in the document. There is a strange thing about the pictures I took of the one I killed.”
He took a picture out of his pocket and laid it on the table.
“This is not gory. It’s a blowup of his right hand. You can see a tattoo in the fleshy part between the thumb and index finger, a common place used by some gangs. As you can see, it is a star inside a circle,” said Alberto Piovesan.
Syd reached for her wine glass and drained it. Teresa materialized and refilled it.
“Thanks, Teresa,” Syd whispered to her.
“Signorina,” replied Teresa.
“What did SISDE tell you?” asked Sara of Carmelo.
“They released Gino’s body to his relatives, but they would tell me nothing. They just said the investigation was ongoing. However, they have not interviewed Alberto yet, so I do not know what kind of investigation they could be doing,” he answered.
“Does that tattoo tell us anything?” asked Syd.
Carmelo laughed and answered, “Trying to make me look bad in front of the boss? Triple Eye is the largest intelligence organization in the world, so we should be able to identify a group using a tattoo, if in fact it is a group. Especially if it is an organized crime group.”
“All right! You’re toying with me—emphasizing my ignorance!” laughed Syd. “Tell me about the crime group.”
Carmelo was still smiling, crow’s feet radiating from the corners of his eyes. He motioned for Teresa to refill his wine glass.
“As a member of SISDE for many years, and as Triple Eye’s Man in Rome, so to speak, I am an expert on Italian crime families,” he chortled.
“You mean like the Mafia?” asked Sara.
“Yes.”
“Are you saying that thug was Mafia?” Syd asked, her eyes widening.
“Not exactly. Organized crime, yes. Let me explain about Italian organized crime groups,” Carmelo said, sipping his wine.
He continued, “Thanks, in part, to American gangster movies, people tend to paint all Italian mobsters with the Mafia brush. To be precise, the word Mafia refers to the Sicilian Mafia, which began as far back as 1282 when the French invaded Sicily. One version of the origin of the name was the battle cry Morte Alla Francia Italia Anela—‘Death to the French is Italy’s Cry.’ The Mafia is like a religion—a lifelong commitment from which the only way out is death. The American branch of the Mafia, which is often called La Cosa Nostra, was started by Don Vito Cascio Ferro in 1893 when he fled Sicily after murdering a respected banker. This group was fueled by mafiosi fleeing Mussolini in the 1920s when he declared war on the Mafia, trying to rid the country of them.”
He paused again to wet his throat with wine, looking at Sara, then Syd.
“I am slightly embarrassed to continue this story—about how many crime organizations originated or are based in my country. Not all Italians are obsessed with criminal activities,” he said, not laughing now.
“My father’s ancestors were German,” said Syd, “and I’m not thrilled about how some of them acted in the past either. We can’t be blamed for what others do, Carmelo.”
“Thank you, signorina,” Carmelo replied.
“Please call me Syd, Carmelo. This signorina stuff doesn’t sit well with me.”
“As you wish, Syd. To continue, I will skim over the main groups other than the Sicilian Mafia. In no particular order, there are the Camorra, the Sacra Corona Unita, the ‘Ndrangheta, the Stidda, and the Catena di Morte. There are also an assortment of street gangs, but I will skip those for now. In fact, unless anyone wants a run down on all of these groups now, I will talk about the Stidda first. Stidda means ‘star’ and members of this group are referred to as stiddari. This is one of the newer Italian crime groups, and less is known about it than the more established groups. Also, Stidda differs from the Mafia because it is not based on an ‘honor’ system, but is only interested in criminal activities and the resulting profit. In this sense, they are a competition to the other groups, not in consort with them. Members use the tattoo of a star, usually between the thumb and index finger, but sometimes elsewhere on the body, to indicate their membership in the group.”
“So that tattoo on the guy in the picture means he was a member of Stidda?” asked Sara.
“No. The circle around the star indicates that he is a member of Catena di Morte, which means ‘chain of death.’ The Catena di Morte—members call themselves catenari—was formed by people who left Stidda and formed a vicious, competing group. Since they had a star brand, they had to do something to change it, so they
chose to draw a circle around it,” answered Carmelo. “This group is located mostly in southern Italy, though I’m sure there are splinter groups in other parts of Italy. We know that at least one group is here in Rome.”
Everyone was silent for a long moment. Teresa was serving coffee for those who wanted it.
Finally, Syd asked, “Could this explain why SISDE became involved?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. They don’t become involved in every street crime involving a member of a gangster group. They are more interested in the bigger picture,” answered Carmelo Cifelli.
“So, you think there is a bigger picture?” stated Syd.
“Definitely, but what?”
Syd replied, “Well, let’s start with what we have: a letter about Monterra. I don’t know if you know, signori, but I was a history major in another life. I would be happy to look into the Monterra thing—see what pops up. When I was at Harvard I was a subscriber to a history web-site that is very good. If you can give me access to a computer that can get on the Internet, I’ll see if my password still works and do a little research.”
“There is a computer and communications room in the back of this portion of the castle. Teresa can take you there whenever you are ready,” said Carmelo with a grin.
“It could take awhile. Where can we meet in, say, an hour and a half?” asked Syd.
Hatch said, “Let’s all meet back here at 5 o’clock for cocktails. While Syd is doing her thing, I want to see if we can come up with a plan to find that catenari guy who got away. He was wounded, so maybe that will help.”
“OK, I’m out of here. Teresa, lead on,” said Syd.
When Syd and Teresa were out of earshot, Syd whispered, “Grab another bottle of this wine. I get thirsty when I work.”
Chapter 24
Il Castello di Bragno, Outside Rome, Italy
Tuesday, August 14, 2001
5:00 P.M.
At 5 o’clock, Hatch, Sara, Carmelo, Alberto, and Syd reconvened in the small dining room. A bar had been set up and plates of appetizers were placed strategically on the table. After everyone got a refreshment from Teresa at the bar, they took the same seats as they had occupied before. A whiteboard on an easel was a few feet behind Syd’s chair. She had asked Teresa to find her one and she had obliged; there were also various colors of marker pens on the shelf below the white board. A sheaf of papers was in front of Syd.
“How did you do, Syd?” asked Hatch.
“My password still worked, so I was able to bone up on the history of Monterra. We can put this off if you want. History tends to be boring to most people,” replied Syd, munching on an appetizer.
“You listened to my dissertation on SISDE and Italian crime organizations, signorina … Syd, so I would be less than polite not to listen to what you have to say. After all, you gave up your afternoon to gather this information for us. Besides, I’m really interested in what you have discovered,” said Carmelo graciously.
“In any case, she gives good lectures—and she’s much prettier than you,” laughed Hatch.
“I found your information to be very well presented, Carmelo, and very interesting,” interjected Syd. “I would like more detail on Italian crime organizations later, if you don’t mind. So, do I give you a run down?”
“Yes, please do,” said Hatch.
She held up the stack of computer printouts for all to see.
“After all of this, I still don’t see what is important enough to kill for,” announced Syd. “Let me give you a little lecture on what was going on in that part of the world in the middle of the nineteenth century, and maybe one of you guys will see something I don’t.”
“That will help. I have no knowledge of that kind of stuff,” stated Hatch.
All of them nodded, agreeing with Hatch.
“OK, guys. If I start sounding like a history professor, stop me. There are eleven regnant dynasties left in Europe,” said Syd as she walked to the white board. She picked up a marker and began pacing in front of the white board.
“Reg what?” asked Sara.
“Regnant. That means countries with royalty,” answered Syd. “They are, including Monterra, the United Kingdom, Belgium, the Netherlands, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Spain, Liechtenstein, Luxemburg, and Monaco. Monterra’s history is more closely related to Monaco than the others, as you will see.”
She paused and took a sip of her vodka and tonic.
“That’s something I never got to do during a lecture before,” she laughed, as she put her glass back on the table. She went to the white board and started drawing three family trees on it. When she was through, she labeled the tree on the left “Monaco,” the middle one “Italy,” and the rightmost one “Monterra.”
“Will this be on the final exam?” laughed Hatch.
“Who knows? Anything I tell you could be on it, so pay attention!” Syd answered with a stern look; then she giggled when she could hold the look no longer.
She stepped back from the board and looked at what she had drawn and written. Satisfied, she turned to face her audience again.
“Before I get into these royal ascension charts, let me give you an overview of how things were in Europe in the mid-nineteenth century. The wars in the Middle Ages had left things in turmoil, and Italy was still torn into fragments, even into the nineteenth century. There were all sorts of armed clans—pseudo-countries, if you will—all with their own kings and agendas. They were always forming short alliances so they could gang up on others and usurp their territories,” lectured Syd, pacing again. “Let me show you something.”
She took a globe of the world from a side shelf and put it in the middle of the dining table in front of her four “students.” She spun it around so that Europe was facing them.
She pointed at Italy on the globe, then continued, “Italy as we know it today had much different boundaries in the 1840s. King Charles Albert of Sardinia”—she pointed to Sardinia on the globe—“attacked the Austrians who occupied Northern Italy in 1848, but he was defeated. He was trying to unify Italy, and was the leader of a political movement the Italians called risorgimento. He tried again in 1849, same result. At that point, losing credibility, he abdicated. Over the next few years, the liberal movement—as opposed to the radicals, who wanted Italy unified under the Pope—gravitated to Albert’s son, Victor Emmanuel II, as their leader.”
Syd continued to describe the power struggles which plagued the area as Victor Emmanuel II of Sardinia followed his quest to unify Italy under his rule, not the Pope’s. Her audience was spellbound at her knowledge and eloquence. It was as if she were a different person when she was lecturing. She occasionally referred to the printouts on the table, but this never detracted from her presentation.
I never thought history could be so interesting, thought Hatch. She is absolutely amazing! She puts things so vividly; it’s as if I actually was there when it all happened. And, of course, she is simply the sexiest teacher I ever had!
Carmelo was thinking, Ragazza bellissima! Hatch is one lucky man if he’s sleeping with her! And she’s smart, too!
Syd went to the white board and pointed at her charts.
“Let’s skip some of the other battles and get to the key players in the turmoil. In 1859, we’ve got Victor Emmanuel II of Sardinia, Charles III of Monaco, and Alfonso di Conti of Monterra. Now, Emmanuel’s minister, Conte di Cavour, talked to the French and convinced them to join him in attacking the Austrians again; the battles were so fierce and costly that the French bailed out and made a separate peace with the Austrians. Some provinces changed hands again. Then in 1860, an Italian patriot who supported Emmanuel, Giuseppe Garibaldi, along with support from di Conti of Monterra, conquered Sicily and Naples—the so-called Two Sicilies—and turned the fruits of their conquests over to the King of Sardinia. Then in 1861—and this is the part you’ve been waiting for—Victor Emmanuel II of Sardinia was proclaimed King of Italy. I won’t list the provinces which were included in the Italy of t
hat time. The important thing was, Alfonso di Conti, as a reward for his aid, was ceded Monterra and granted sovereignty, under the protection of Italy. He became Alfonso I, Prince of Monterra. At about the same time, Charles III of Monaco played Monopoly with France, swapping some provinces, and the sovereignty of Monaco was assured by France.”
At that point, Syd sat down and took a gulp of her drink. She smiled sweetly at her audience. They all put their hands together and gave her a brief interval of applause.
“Well done, Syd!” beamed Hatch. “So this guy Alfonso di Conti became Prince of Monterra officially in 1861. Maybe, after you catch your breath, you can run down his family tree to the point where the alleged baby swap was made.”
“Glad to, Hatch.”
While Syd wet her throat with another sip of her drink, Carmelo said, “God, my ancestors were an unruly lot back then. At least we finally became lovers instead of fighters! Best lovers in the world, I might add.”
“I thought that was the French,” ribbed Sara.
“No way! An Italian can out love twenty Frenchmen, any day!” said Carmelo with a snort.