Road to Rome

Father Clement was like—Marco was thinking of suitable metaphors from the moment he sat down, and with the help of his second cup of coffee, he finally decided that the most suitable image was the aging fox: although the hair was completely white, he could still The original handsome and cunning can be seen at a glance.Clement was somewhere between sixty and seventy, probably closer to the seventy end, with his gray hair carefully combed so that not a single strand escaped the comb's grasp.Even if he didn't speak, the wrinkles at the corners of the priest's mouth were very deep, as if they were deliberately knocked out along the pre-drawn lines with a chisel.The pointed nose and narrowly spaced eyes gave the elderly priest a vigilant look like a carnivore. Perhaps this is not natural, but shaped by years of church life. He is always sniffing, always pricking his ears to listen to the surroundings. little noise.

"I'm not just here on behalf of the church, you already know that." The white fox spoke first, pronouncing every vowel beautifully, too beautiful to hear the accent, Marco instinctively resisted this kind of control A person whose mask fits perfectly.There were only the two of them in this room that looked like a living room and a conference room. If Antonio didn't participate in this conversation, it could be inferred that he would no longer play a role in the following plans, and the mission of the messenger was over.Will they ever get a chance to say goodbye?Or that Antonio is already on his way back to New York at this moment?But now is not the time to think about Antonio.

"I want to see my parents, face to face, not a photo or something."

"Of course, we'll talk about it later." Father Clement smiled at him, clasped his hands, and put them on the table. Marco noticed that he didn't wear a ring, nor did he have any other ornaments, not even a crucifix. Neither did the pendant. "Mr. Costa, our friend and client—"

"Just say 'President,' and cut our conversation short."

"Mr. President knows and appreciates your valuable information, but capturing a few hooligans at the Hoboken docks is not enough. Our ships sank one after another in the Atlantic Ocean. To plug the loopholes in the docks, we have to take many measures. other means."

"Kidnapping or murder?"

"Arrest." Father Clement tapped his finger on the rim of his coffee cup, "but the whole thing has to look like a gang conflict from start to finish, and the federal government can't get involved in any way, at least not on the surface. We're going to use some This method draws out Bruch and puts him in a position where he can be legally arrested."

"What kind of 'method', what 'situation'?"

"That's why we're talking here today, Mr. Costa. The FBI agents are eager to borrow your experience and wisdom. If you agree, we can set off to meet them right away. They are waiting for your parents. In the house where you are temporarily staying, after discussing the plan, maybe you just have time to have dinner with your mother."

"Going right now?"

"Yes, Mr. Costa, let's go now." The white fox looked at him, his smile moved the wrinkles around his mouth, but his eyes were cold, maybe it wasn't a fox, Marco realized, it was an older python that was better at sneak attacks.Father Clement took a sip of coffee and continued: "I understand that life here is very boring, and you must be very worried about your parents. Neither Theodore nor I want to prolong this psychological torture for no reason. Don't worry about luggage—a canvas bag and a shotgun, if I remember correctly—in the few minutes we've been chatting, someone has packed them up and sent them to the car." The priest paused here, and for the first time there was a smile in his eyes Meaning, but not kindly, "Maybe you want to say goodbye to someone?" A voice in the back of his head yelled "Antonio!", but Marco cut it off.It's one thing for Father Clement to know what they're doing these days, but it's another thing to directly put the bed partner relationship on the table.He didn't want to be a nuisance to Antonio in any way.

"I believe no one here will miss me." Marco stood up, "I'm ready to leave this ghost place."

-

The rain turned light around ten o'clock, and suddenly turned into a thunderstorm at noon.Everything was hidden in the iron-gray rain, and the thunder echoed between the woods and hills, as if boulders were constantly rolling down and smashed into the red birch forest.Antonio went from the chapel to the kitchen, took some bread and cold ham, and sat alone in the cloister to eat a simple lunch.The cloister embraced a well-tended square garden, but now the plants were bent and their petals fell from the rainstorm.The water in the marble bird bath overflowed, followed the lines of the stone carvings into three miniature waterfalls, and fell into the turbid stagnant water.

He waited, huddled in the corner of the wooden bench, sheltered from the splashing rain.After talking with Marco, he should be the next person Father Clement will meet.Antonio had already prepared for this, and had already compiled a whole set of stories in his mind, not entirely in line with the facts, but absolutely logical.He prayed that Marco would keep his mouth shut in front of Father Clement, and not tear too many holes in this carefully crafted statement.

The bell rang and was almost drowned out by the thunderstorm.one noon.

Theo was the last to appear in the corridor.The friar approached quietly, sat down beside Antonio, leaned forward, with his elbows on his thighs, and together they looked at the garden amidst the storm.

"I have a hunch." Antonio said, looking at a clump of buttercups standing aggrieved in the muddy water, "What you are going to tell me is not so pleasant."

"Based on personal experience, after the age of 15, most things in life become unpleasant." Theo straightened up and smiled at him, as if regretting, "Father Clement left two hours ago."

This was indeed unexpected, Antonio pursed his lips, but did not make a sound.Theo answered the question he didn't ask directly: "Mr. Costa went with him."

"To New York?"

"Father Clement didn't tell me where to go."

"Did he leave me any message? I mean Father Clement."

"No Mr. Costa." Theo replied mildly, without teasing, and Antonio was grateful for it, "Father Clement asked me to tell you that your 'errand' is over, and you can return to the city at any time. Another accommodation has been arranged for you, and the driver knows the address."

"Okay." Antonio breathed out, trying to hide the bubbling disappointment, and at the same time tried his best to prevent his thoughts from flowing in the direction of Marco, so as not to ignite other uncontrollable emotions, "Okay, that's good."

Again there was silence.The rain showed no signs of slowing down. The gravel path in the garden was swallowed by the accumulated water crawling inch by inch. A spider escaped along the long grass blades, jumped into the corridor, and climbed up the pillars. Get into the cracks in the bricks and disappear.

"Antonio."

"Just ask."

"What is the 'errand' assigned to you by the church? Are you in danger?"

"You know I can't tell you." Antonio rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But I think the danger is over. That's Mr. Costa's trouble, not mine."

"That's fine, I mean, I'm glad you got away with it."

Antonio didn't want to continue this conversation anymore, he needed to hide, hide in a blanket or an old book, until the name "Marco" was completely out of his mind. "Yeah, I'm glad too. Look, Theo—"

"Father Clement didn't set a deadline, you know." The monk interrupted Antonio, obviously worried that he would find an excuse to escape, "I think you should stay here for a few more days until you are sure that everything is safe outside. Maybe we will tonight Can we eat together and then... chat? Just like before?"

before.Antonio thought, was that 12 years ago or 15 years ago?I never imagined that time can pass so fast.Theodore was his first friend since he left home, and Antonio remembers him well in his early 20s: a pleasantly round face, smiling, and far less slick than it is today.The two have not seen each other since they graduated. After Antonio was ordained a priest, he thought about writing to him, but he never wrote.Perhaps what Theo misses is the 21-year-old Antonio, but that Antonio has disappeared. "I think I'd better get back to New York as soon as possible," Antonio replied, in the gentle tone people often use when they give bad news.

"Of course." Theodore cleared his throat and stood up. "I'll get you an umbrella. The car is at the side door. The driver is in the kitchen. Brother Oliver will go and notify him."

Antonio gently shook his friend's hand and let go, "Thank you, Theo."

The friar bent down and kissed his forehead, and so suddenly Antonio sat so still that he didn't even have time to think to move away.The fraternal kiss ended as soon as it started, and Theodore left the corridor quickly without saying goodbye or looking back, probably without actually looking for an umbrella.

"Good-bye," said the priest to the deserted garden.In the distance, deep in the invisible clouds, the low thunder sounded again.

The way out of the monastery is slippery and dangerous.Even though he couldn't see outside, Antonio could deduce it from the occasional whispered curses from the driver.Not long after driving on the highway, the rain cloud suddenly opened like a curtain, revealing the translucent sky. The road was still wet, but the wind and rain had passed, and they left behind, moving slowly to the west and north.

At sunset, he finally saw the skyline of Manhattan Island, and when the car stopped in front of an old apartment building, the street lights were already on.The porter glanced at the car, without asking any questions, stretched out a thin hand, and handed Antonio an envelope containing two keys. "The big one is used to open the door, and the small one is used to open the mailbox. I'm not responsible for sending the letter upstairs." The porter explained dryly, and slammed the door shut.

The apartment was small with uneven floors, but it was cleaner than expected and there was fresh food in the fridge.On the first night, Antonio slept on the sofa with a blanket in his arms. He didn't know why. He might subconsciously think that this was someone else's home, and the owner might come back at any time.He has only moved into the bedroom since the third night, still sleeps badly, repeatedly dreaming of a dark forest, many people hiding behind trees and shooting at him, he keeps running away and always ends up falling off a cliff, or Stepping into a frozen lake that suddenly appeared, I woke up panting.

He went to the Costa family's former residence, where the police cordon was still in place, a small part of the roof had collapsed, exposing wooden beams that looked like broken bones, and the fire had blackened every window.Sometimes he went to the pier and looked at the freighters bound for England and the convoy moored further afield.The rest of the time he waited for Father Clement at the bishop's mansion, and although he had no duties at the moment, no one drove him away anyway.Father Clement never showed up, and there was never news of bombings, gang fights, or police rounds up of dockside mafia in the papers.This gray May was suspended in time like an accidentally stuck pinion, each day exactly like the one before.

Only the war continues and Rome remains far away.