by Nick Vellis
“What do you know about his background?” AJ asked.
Alessandro sank back into the rich leather sofa, wine glass in hand. “We think he’s a Greek national. He came to Italy as early as 1946, maybe earlier. He started by smuggling cigarettes. Many men did back then. He worked with a couple of aid groups slipping undocumented refugees into the country, but he was smuggling and gun running from the beginning.
“Does he have any business in Greece?” AJ asked.
“He ran guns for both sides during the Greek the Civil War. He’s an old timer in black markets throughout Southern and Eastern Europe. He was making deals before the Cold War, particularly with the old Yugoslavian and Romanian governments. He made a fortune running guns. Hell, he even sold stolen tanks during the Bosnian war.
“How do you smuggle a tank?” AJ asked.
“I don’t know how, but he did it and more than once. He’s a pro. He’s smuggled everything from transistor radios to American cars. You need ships to smuggle, and Solaris owns two shipping lines, maybe 150 ships, and boats of all sizes. He has used his criminal proceeds to build an immense legitimate business empire.”
“You said you think he’s Greek. What’s that about?” AJ asked.
“The birth records on him are suspect.”
“Oh, how so?” Gia asked, leaning forward. During her time with Guardia di Finanza, she had not heard anything about this.
“The only record on file for him is a Greek baptismal certificate issued in Athens in 1920. We got a copy of it when he applied for an Italian passport. During the war, the Archbishop of Athens arranged for false baptismal certificates for Jews trying to flee the country. Nearly all of them were dated 1920, so anything from Athens, anywhere in Greece for that matter, with that date is subject to question today. They could be legitimate, but we think this man got one of those fake certificates. Either he had it made or stole it.”
“Why would he do that?” Gia asked.
“To get out of the country, I suppose,” Alessandro replied.
“Why would he want to get out of the country? He was working for the Germans. Why wouldn’t he use his own name?” Gia asked.
“He was working for the Germans? I didn’t know that,” Alessandro said. “See, you can help me nail him,” Alessandro said, looking over at AJ. “Why leave the country? Who knows?
He could have left once he had the certificate, during or even after the war. Many official documents were destroyed so customs officers accepted nearly anything that looked official.
As to the name, I don’t know. Maybe he thought no one would be able to check. At the time, they couldn’t.”
AJ had been listening carefully, his chin resting on steepled fingers. He looked up at Alessandro, leaned forward, and said, “When I was with Army JAG, I defended a man charged with murder at Fort Hood. That’s in Texas. The guy was on the run for eight months. Some small town cop stopped him because he didn’t dim his headlights when he passed the cop’s car.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Gia said.
“Give me a minute,” AJ said, holding up one hand. “They stopped him because of the headlight thing. The cop claimed it was an indicator of a possible drunk driver. He didn’t show the cop his driver’s license because naturally that would identify him, so he said he’d lost his license. The cop asked for his name, and he made one up.”
“OK, so he made up a name,” Gia said.
“The name he made up was the name of guy wanted for a different murder. He got arrested anyway because he was unlucky,” AJ said.
“So Solaris is a name our man made up?” Alessandro said.
“Or the name of someone he knew,” AJ said, sitting back in his seat. “Nikko Solaris shouldn’t be alive. He got the baptismal certificate or some other document, maybe years ahead of time just in case. He didn’t use his own name. He’s just unlucky.”
“Whoa,” Gia said. “That’s a good theory, but how do we prove it?”
“I don’t know,” AJ said, “but at least we have a place to start.”
“Gia,” Alessandro said, “did you tell me the Greeks executed Solaris?”
“Yes, in the late 1940s. I don’t recall the exact year.”
“If that’s true there must be archival photos of him somewhere,” Alessandro said.
“What good would that do?” AJ asked.
“I do some pro bono work for the Justice Center in Switzerland. They use photo-aging software. It can take an old photo and give you an approximation of what a person would look like today,” Alessandro said.
“That’s how they’ve identified some of the Nazi war criminals they’ve found, isn’t it?” AJ asked.
“Yes it is,” Alessandro replied.
“I wasn’t able to find a picture of the Solaris living in San Marino in my research. He’s quite a recluse,” Gia said.
“We can get a copy his Italian passport photo to make the comparison,” Alessandro replied.
“It might not hold up in court, but it sure would be a good start to know who he is,” AJ said.
“May I use your computer, Uncle Alessandro? I saw some old pictures of Solaris when I was searching this afternoon,” Gia said.
“Get me a good facial photo, Gia. I can email it to the Center’s Bern office. I’m sure they will take an interest in this man,” Alessandro, said reaching for his laptop.
Two hours later, Gia was saving the last of a half dozen 1940s era pictures of Nikko Solaris to Alessandro’s computer.
“These should be fine,” Alessandro said, looking at the pictures. “This full face one should do nicely. I will email these to the Center. The tech guys there are good. They’ll be able to tell us if the aging software will work on any of these.”
“That’s great, Alessandro. Thank you,” AJ said. “You’ve been a wealth of information and a big help.”
“Yes, my dear Uncle Alessandro, thank you.” Gia said leaning over and kissing Alessandro on the cheek.
“You’re welcome, but my motive for helping you is in part a selfish one. I want this man, too. Let me know of your progress. I believe we can work together on this.”
“We had better get going if I’m going to get you back to the hotel tonight,” Gia said, looking at her watch.
“It’s too late to go back to Milan. I have a second floor full of empty rooms. Stay tonight and I’ll make you breakfast.”
“OK with me,” Gia said. “I haven’t had one of your country breakfasts in ages.”
“Whose fault is that?” Alessandro said. Turning to AJ, he said, “How about you, AJ?”
“It is a long drive. Sure, that would be great. Thank you. I guess it’s too late to call Ceres though,” AJ said.
“Wonderful. I’ll freshen up a couple rooms and get you two settled,” Alessandro said.
“Oh, let me help,” Gia said as she stood.
“No. If I’m going to learn to be an innkeeper, I need to do this myself. There isn’t much to do and it will only take a few minutes. You two go out on the terrace. The vineyard is lovely in the moonlight,” Alessandro said.
Gia led AJ through a set of French doors out to a broad terrace as Alessandro disappeared up the stairs. The vineyard, rolling down gentle hills, spread out before them, under a hazy crescent moon. The crisp air was alive with soft night sounds. Fireflies danced in the moonlight.
“Thank you for bringing me here tonight. I’ve learned a lot, and I think I know where we’re going with this, what do we call it, a case?” AJ said.
“I was sure Alessandro would have a useful perspective. I’m surprised he shared so much,” Gia said. “I guess he hopes by sharing what he knows you will share what you know.”
“I’m willing, but honestly, Ceres is the one with the knowledge. He’s been looking at this for years,” AJ said. “We both have our agendas, but I’m sure now we will get some answers. With Alessandro and his agency in the background, we may just solve this thing. Thank you,” AJ said.
&nbs
p; “It is beautiful here, isn’t it?” Gia said with a sigh. “I haven’t come here since my father was killed. This is the last place I was with him before ...” her voice cracked with emotion then she was silent. Gia looked out into the darkness and said, “I haven’t told Uncle Alessandro, but I’ve been afraid to come here, afraid of the memory. Please don’t tell him.” She paused to collect herself. “He’s not really an uncle you know. He was my father’s best friend, and he has looked out for me since I was little.”
“I didn’t realize it was difficult for you to come here. I’m even more appreciative of what you’ve done,” AJ said.
“It’s OK. Being with Alessandro and with you has made it less painful than I expected,” Gia said, putting her hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Gia. How long ago was it? Do you want to tell me about it?” AJ said, thinking of the passing of both his parents.
“It’s been a little over a year, but there isn’t much to tell,” she said, lost in her sad memories. “He left Guardia di Finanza. I was never sure why, and opened the private investigations office. He knew many of the lawyers in Milan…”
“And they trusted him, so he got a lot of work. I know how that works. I’m an attorney, remember?” AJ said.
Gia smiled, and AJ felt warm all over. “Yes, I’d forgotten,” she said, patting his arm again.
“He was on surveillance for a divorce case. Divorces can get ugly in Italy. He was in his car taking pictures of the husband with his mistress. The police found him in his car the next morning. He’d been shot six times.”
Gia paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
“The Polizia Provincial, the local police, found the gun and traced fingerprints back to a street kid with a record of robbery. The kid was convicted but I was never sure he was the right one. My father still had his wallet, and his expensive cameras were still in the car,” Gia said, trying to keep her professional detachment intact.
“I think I know how you must feel. My father’s murder was just a few months ago. That’s what set me on this trail. It’s how I met Ceres,” AJ said.
“He’s a nice man,” Gia said. “I like him.”
“Just him?” AJ said moving closer to Gia.
“I like you, too, AJ. You’re interesting.”
“Just interesting?” AJ said tilting his head toward Gia’s face and her inviting lips.
“I just met you,” she said softly, putting a hand on his chest then gently pushing him away. “We have a business relationship here, Mr. Pantheras. Stop now before you get yourself slapped,” she said playfully, but regretting she had to reject him.
“All right, but I hope we can conclude our business soon. I would like you to get to know how interesting I can be.”
“I’m sure you can be very…” she stopped short and reached for her iPhone.
“Ciao. Yes. What! When? How bad is he?” Gia said as she sat down on the terrace’s brick wall. “I can be there in two hours. Tell the damn Provinciale I will, we will be there as soon as we can. Thanks for calling Marco. Ciao.”
AJ looked at Gia, questions written all over his face.
Gia put the phone down, put her fist to her mouth, and pressed her index finger knuckle to her teeth.
“What?” AJ said.
“Your friend Mr. Savas was attacked in his hotel room. It’s bad.”
“Is he… dead?” AJ said, tears coming to his eyes. Was everyone close to him going to die? AJ thought.
“No, he’s at the hospital, but it sounds bad. That was my friend Marco, the hotel manager,” Gia said. “Some Provinciale, the local police, saw two men pushing a laundry cart out of the hotel service area. They called for them to stop, but they ran. They got away, but the Provinciale checked the cart and found a man, Ceres, who had been beaten unconscious. They got him to the hospital. I’m sorry, that’s all Marco knows.”
“We have to go,” AJ said. “I know it’s late, but I have to go. Now.”
“I understand. I’m so sorry. If we’d brought him with us….” Her voice trailed off in sadness and frustration.
“There are a lot of ifs. If he came with us, he wouldn’t be hurt, I know. I was thinking the same thing. It’s my fault. I wanted to be alone with you. I was selfish,” AJ said, looking into her dark eyes.
“I have to get to him.”
“We can leave immediately. Let me find Alessandro,” Gia said, a forced smile creeping over her flushed face as she sprinted away.
AJ sighed. He wondered when this would all be over and thought about Ceres and when or if he would be with Gia again.
AJ didn’t object to Gia’s driving on the trip back to the city. He hardly noticed the bends and switchbacks that made his butt pucker on the earlier drive on this same road. He saw lightning over the mountains. Here and there, powerful shafts of light, some at steep angles, slashed through to the ground as light struggled to overcome dark. It appeared the moon light and the lightning were battling each other. The stormy horizon loomed ever larger in front of him as they raced on, and AJ wondered how he would face it.
San Raffaele Hospital was less than a mile off the A 51 highway and reminded AJ of Miami’s Jackson Memorial. Staff rushing, waiting room overflowing, and ambulances lined up- the nighttime trauma center dance was apparently universal.
Gia took charge once they hit the hospital doors. She was formidable, dark eyes flashing. She dismissed the uniformed police at the door with a wave of her hand and a single curse, bowled through the waiting room, and soon had the doctor in charge, a young, dark haired man, under hot cross-examination in loud, rapid Italian.
After several minutes’ interrogation, Gia turned to AJ.
“Your friend is in serious condition. He was bleeding from his right ear and his nose when they brought him here,” she said, taking AJ’s hand.
“How seriously is he hurt?” AJ asked.
“He took at least two blows to the head. He has a skull fracture behind his right ear, four broken ribs, and he is unconscious. Doctor Ponzio has him in a drug-induced coma and on a Mannitol drip to reduce the swelling in his brain. The doctor says his brain activity is good and he is stable for now, but Doctor Ponzio worries about brain swelling. Your friend is not a young man, and these are serious injuries.”
“Is there anything I can do? Is there anything he needs?” AJ asked. The fear he’d fought during their silent, frantic drive to the hospital crept into the back of his mind now that he knew the seriousness of Ceres’ injuries. “Can I see him?”
Gia turned back to the doctor with the question, and he responded in halting English to AJ.
“No. Not yet. Your friend needs rest,” the doctor said. Then he spoke to Gia in Italian again, shook hands with her and AJ, then headed down the corridor.
The two watched the doctor walk away. AJ flashed back to his mother’s death, the plane crash. She had survived the impact and the fire, but she died in a place exactly like this, alone on a gurney in a sterile room. His father, the great Andreas Pantheras, never even came to the hospital.
“AJ, Doctor Ponzio is chief of neurosurgery here. This is a good hospital, a teaching hospital. Doctor Ponzio is one of the best in the country. They called him in to see Ceres.”
AJ looked at Gia and said, “I’m going to see him, and I’m going to hold his hand until he wakes up. Understand?”
“AJ you can’t … of course, he’s in room 9,” she said, nodding in the direction the doctor had disappeared.
“I’ll try to answer the questions from the police. Is there anything you don’t want me to tell them about what you’re doing?”
AJ thought. What was he doing? Good damn question. “Ceres and I are here on vacation. That’s all they need to know. You and I are just friends, but don’t you believe that,” AJ said, gently squeezing Gia’s hand. “You are more than a friend, and thank you for… for dealing with the doctor. For everything. Oh and you should call Alessandro and let him know what’s happened.
> “You’re welcome. I’m so sorry this has happened. I will deal with the police. Go see your friend,” Gia said.
She turned and headed toward the clutch of three police officers eyeing her from the far end of the hall.
AJ crept into Treatment Room 9. He had steeled himself for what he expected to see, but was still shocked when he saw the old man. He felt the clutch of his terror grab his mind and his gut. Ceres’ head was lost in a mass of bandages. Tubes and wires, beeping monitors and gauges surrounded the bed. Gauze, papers, and blood were all over the floor. Stuffing down his rising fear, AJ pulled a stool over to the gurney and took Ceres’ hand. AJ looked at the tiny bit of his friend’s face not covered by bandages. Four years ago in a room just like this one, he held his mother’s hand. For the first time since that night, he closed his eyes and began to pray. AJ hoped this time his prayer would be answered.
CHAPTER 21
The tiny Republic of San Marino is pinned between the Adriatic and the Apennine Mountains and is surrounded by Italy. Of its nine municipalities or Castellios, Castellio di Montegardine in the northeast corner of the country is the smallest. In the smallest municipality in the smallest country, sits Bella Vista, and nothing about it or its owner is small.
The villa’s vineyards comprise four hundred fifty acres in a country that is only twenty-four square miles. Robust vines produce Sangiovese, a strong red wine, and Biancale, a dry white wine, and bring their owner a tidy profit every year. The vineyards, barns for cattle and cheese making, and various other utilitarian buildings are but a backdrop to an enormous reconstructed 17th century castle. The medieval structure, completely revamped with every modern luxury is Bella Vista, the private enclave of Nikko Solaris, reclusive billionaire, self-proclaimed financier, commodities expert, and captain of industry. The place is anything but small.