When Jordie said no, the man nodded, then brought it to his own lips and lit up. He blew a stream of smoke upwards, over the table. As the cloud drifted over his head, Jordie began looking around for the waitress.
The man held up his hand. “Amico mio, prego. Allow me this honor. I will buy your colazione today.”
Jordie started, “Wait…” before cutting himself off for not speaking Italian. The man continued.
“Let us speak in English. I do not think Italiano is suitable for you.”
Jordie nodded.
“But who am I, you are thinking, am I not right, piccolo?”
“Yes…”
“I am Luca Castelvetere. Perhaps you have heard of me?” Jordie stared and the man continued.
“No? Well, scusi, scusi. Sometimes my reputation precedes me. What is the phrase, you never know?”
“Yes, that’s it, but why…”
“Yes, you never know. That is it. Perhaps my famous ancestors you may have heard of.”
“Maybe, but…”
“Why am I here with you now? Destino, perhaps.” The little man shrugged. “Who can know? Maybe the spirits of my ancestors Arturo Toscanini and the ones called Pliny have led me here to you so that I may help you. You need help, I think.”
Thoughts of leaving the table fled Jordie’s mind. This turn was too intriguing. Before he could respond, Luca was talking again. “You are looking for a guide, si?”
“Si, yes. How did you know?”
“It is my business to know these things, piccolo. I will guide you.”
“But I’m on a limited…”
“Tut!” Luca held his hands over his ears. “I know what you are doing, but please do not, I beg you. Speak not to me of money. I do not wish to hear of such things.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Prego, take my assurance that it will be fair. Are we not honorable men?”
“I’m sorry, this is all a little bit…”
“Trust me, amico mio. You can trust Luca in all things.”
“Let me think about it a little.”
“Si, si, yes, yes, of course, piccolo. There is no rush. Whenever you feel yourself ready, I will be waiting right here.”
Jordie got up from the table. He wanted to get started, but didn’t want to appear too eager. “Ok, Luca. I must return to my room for a bit. If you’re still down here when I return, we can discuss this further.”
Luca nodded his head and waved down the waitress, who nodded and brought him a double portion of the same type of breakfast as Jordie had.
Walking down the hall, Jordie mounted the stairs to his room. He’d intended on getting his maps and phrasebook, but if Luca spoke and understood English that well, it would only be extra weight. Stopping dead on the landing, he spun about face and walked back to the table where Luca was rapidly dismantling the bread-cakes. “What do you call that?”
“This? Is Pandoro.”
“It’s quite good.”
“Si.”
“If you’re my guide, can you also teach me to speak Italian?”
“You wish to parli Italiano? Si. I can do this.”
“I think we have a deal.” Jordie held out his hand. “Jordie Danielson, pleased to meet you. Let me get my things and let’s get started.”
Luca coughed slightly and Jordie paused. “I mean, when you’re ready. I’ll let you finish with your col… cola… zee…”
“Colazione.”
“Right. That. I’m going to go upstairs and get my things and meet you back here.”
“Si, piccolo.”
Back in his room, Jordie smiled. He leafed through the phrasebook, but couldn’t quite decide why Luca was referring to him as a miniature flute. Jordie shrugged, then flipped the unhelpful phrasebook onto the bed. He’d heard the Italians were a very musical people, maybe that was it. Putting the maps and diary in his backpack, he went downstairs to the restaurant. Luca was not at the table. Jordie sat down to wait for him.
The waitress returned and handed him a piece of paper. He looked at it, but could not make out anything other than a figure at the bottom. It read ₤4030. Eyes opening wide in horror, he stared up at the waitress,. Italy had struck again! The little man was a shyster, working tourists for breakfast. Jordie had heard about such things.
The waitress must have had a sense for things too. He watched as she summoned over the manager, who stood impassively at the table while the waitress rapid-fired a stream of Italian words that washed over Jordie like a hot summer rain. Standing quickly, he dug in his pants, pulling out first a dollar, then two, then three. He tried to hand them to the waitress, who shrank back. His hand moved toward the manager, who shook his head. “Lira, prego.” Jordie didn’t have any lira left after the cab ride and hotel last night, having only converted a couple twenties at the airport. He held up both hands in a sign of helplessness, but before the manager could say “la polizia” or shackle him to a sink in the back to wash dishes, Luca returned.
He quickly took the money from Jordie’s hands and pocketed it, then handed over some folded paper and a couple of coins to the hotel staff. This seemed to satisfy them and they bowed slightly to Luca, then left.
Luca turned to Jordie. “So, we are ready to get started, yes?”
***
They were walking along the Via Villa dei Misteri, Luca insisting it was too nice of a day to ride inside a car and Jordie readily agreeing because his finances were in a state where every cab ride shortened the amount of time he could stay in Italy. He was no closer to finding his father, but Luca had listened to his story, pored over the maps and decided their best route was to head right into Pompeii itself. The little Italian had not wanted to listen to Jordie’s tapes, however, politely insisting they were not necessary.
Their conversation during the first part of the walk seemed strange to Jordie. “Where are we going?”
“Scavi di Pompeii.”
“Why are we going there?”
“You said your father was alive, yes?”
“I think so, yes… but I don’t really know for sure.”
“If he is alive and in Italy, he will be there, piccolo.”
“How do you know?”
“Is New York nice place?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“All my life I dream of going to New York.”
“I don’t understand what that…”
“They say there is a street corner somewhere in the city that if you stand there long enough, everyone in the world will walk by and you can find an old lover or friend. I would like to see this place, to stand there, if only for a moment.”
“I’ve never heard of it. Sorry.”
“Is like that here, except that place in New York is in the ruins of Pompei. Many peoples come here just to go there.”
They walked side by side, Luca first telling then making him repeat the Italian words for lamp post, street, sidewalk, car, bicycle, stroller, sky, cloud, sun, trees and feet. When they passed a flower vendor in the sidewalk, Jordie learned the names for fifteen types of flowers, the cart and half a dozen colors. Luca was cheerful, a very pleasant companion and Jordie was almost sorry to see the ruins of Pompeii ahead of them.
An old woman came up to them before they could make the entrance. Jordie automatically shoved his hands in his front pockets, as his grandmother insisted he do anytime he was in the big city. Luca started to tell him the word for beggar until the woman began speaking.
“Caveo dal tempiale di Isis!”
Jordie made out “of Isis” and looked to Luca for clarification.
Luca was angrily glaring at the woman and making shooing motions with his hands. “Vada via!”
She moved closer and reached her hands toward Jordie. He shrank back and she stopped moving. “Assomigliate al vostro padre. Siete qui per lui. Dovete girare indietro. Non potete aiutarli.”
He looked to Luca, who had his hands on his hips. “What is she saying?”
<
br /> “Don’t worry, piccolo. I told her we have no money.”
The woman spoke again. “Vada a casa. Ciò non è il posto per voi.”
He turned from the woman back to Luca. “She doesn’t seem to want money, Luca. What is she asking for?”
“These beggars… they have many tricks.”
The woman adamantly shook her head. “Vada a casa!” She turned and walked off, muttering something.
Jordie stared. “Luca, what’s going on?”
“Don’t worry about it, amico mio. She’s insane. Crazy, you know?” Luca held his finger up near his head and made a spinning motion by his temple.
Jordie watched her shuffling away. He was getting ready to turn back to the ruins of Pompeii when he heard the woman’s voice say, “He is not a good man, ragazzo.”
A glance back showed the woman’s vacant eyes and her head shaking slightly. The view was dispelled when he felt Luca’s hand on his arm. “Come, we waste time and daylight here.”
They walked under the Porta Marina gate and into Pompeii itself. A number of suited dark-haired men came to them immediately and before Luca could shoo them away, Jordie took a map one of them held out. He opened it up and saw the words “casa” and “tempiale”. They walked down the streets, surveying the surroundings.
He turned to Luca. “Casa means house and tempiale means temple, right?”
“Si. Is correct.”
“What does vada mean?”
“Vada is like… traveling. You want to make a trip to someplace else.”
“What about caveo?”
“Is a warning… be something… careful. Like that.”
“Why was she telling me to go to a house and to watch out for a temple…”
Jordie stopped. He quickly reached into his jacket and pulled his father’s diary from an inside pocket. His fingers navigated the well-thumbed and familiar pages until he got to his father’s final passage. Perhaps Luca was right, after all, about his father being there. He put the book away and turned to his guide. “Where is this Temple of Isis?”
***
The two travelled due east but well before they got close, Jordie got the distinct impression that he wouldn’t have needed Luca’s guidance to find it. There was a palpable pull long before they turned north and walked past an open air round theater.
Jordie glanced at his pamphlet and pointed. “Is that the amphitheater?”
“No, amphitheater is about the size of what you call stadium. This one is large theater only.”
Jordie was fascinated by the size and stared at it until he nearly plowed into a sawhorse barricade. Luca stopped him, then steered him past and motioned for Jordie to duck down when they saw one of the black-suited men walk by.
Jordie turned to Luca and whispered. “Why are we hiding?”
“This place is… how you say? Off limits.”
He was about to ask why when Luca abruptly stood and ran underneath some boards nailed to a makeshift frame around an entrance. Jordie followed, halting as soon as he turned the corner.
Before him was an open structure, like someone had built the foundation then forgotten to put up walls and the roof. On either side of the top of a short flight of gray stone stairs stood imposing twin columns. Bleached red bricks sparsely interspersed with more heavily sun-faded light tan bricks formed walls and even in its current debilitated state, the building looked foreboding. Jordie suppressed a chill and glanced around. Bordering the area was a number of square posts, covered by plastic sheeting and plywood boards. There was more construction equipment in the area, but Jordie tore his gaze away from counting wheelbarrows and shovel handles to try to locate Luca. The small Italian was not visible.
After checking to make sure there were no more of the suited men nearby, Jordie crept to the temple. As he got closer, he could see long scratches on the insides of the columns. A walk up the steps and a tour around the top of the foundation revealed nothing unusual. After jumping back down and circling the foundation, he again found nothing of interest, just cracks in the exterior facade.
He shook his head in frustration. Dare he call out Luca’s name? Best to not, lest one of the guards in the suits answer. Back to the front and wearily plopping down on the steps, he wished he had thought to pack a sandwich and something to drink. Perhaps there was a place nearby to get a cold Coke… but given his recent run of luck, most likely not. Jordie soberly concluded his research had been woefully narrow, leaving him truly unprepared.
What were his options? One was to leave now, find one of the wandering, pamphlet-dispensing suited men and vacate the ruins of Pompeii, return to the hotel and figure out how to get to Boscoreale and start over on his previous plan. The other option was to try again to discover where Luca had gone, though he’d already done that once and come up empty.
The sun was hanging low in the sky before he decided, as long as he was there, to examine the foundation more thoroughly. The scrape marks on the columns were deeper than he’d previously noticed. After running his hand up one, he turned toward the other, caught his foot on the first stride and fell to his knees. Clambering somewhat delicately back to his feet, he brushed off his pants and looked down. One of the giant flagstones covering the base of the temple was set higher than the others. Muttering softly, he moved to examine the other column, when he felt a draft. Listening intently, he heard a low grinding. Glancing back, he saw the flagstone finish settling into place, sinking until it was level with the others.
He searched, but couldn’t find a switch and didn’t have anything at hand to pry it up. Except… By the wheelbarrows and buckets, he noticed a spade. Running wildly, he skidded to a stop in front of it and with it held tightly in his fist, he sprinted back up the stairs. He slid to a stop again. The flagstone had been shoved aside and a square hole offered a dark invitation into blackness. There was still no sign of Luca and he had a good mind to run the spade upside Luca’s head when he found him… if he found him. Closer to the hole now, a narrow set of stairs leading down was revealed. After casting another furtive glance about and finding nothing, Jordie shrugged and descended.
***
Though the gloom defied easy sight, he could hear voices ahead. One of them was Luca’s. He was talking to another man, one with a deeper voice. Jordie could not make out their words, but it sounded like Luca was asking for something. Indeed, he heard Luca’s voice take on the pleading tone of someone begging a superior. The deeper voice was strong, powerful, sending a chill creeping up his spine.
Moving slowly, he kept his back against the roughhewn stone wall. There was no light in the tunnel and he hoped they kept talking long enough for him to use their conversation as a beacon. Pausing for a moment to collect himself, Jordie considered turning back. He’d found Luca but now wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to the Italian further. He spun about to leave, but was suddenly grabbed and pulled to the side. Before a yell could escape, a hand clamped down on Jordie’s mouth.
He was pulled into a narrow space and a beam of light struck his eyes. Jordie gasped. A voice behind the flashlight hissed. “Chi sono voi?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”
“Shhh! Lower your voice. You’re American?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here, American?”
“I came looking for my father.”
“He is not here.”
Jordie paused. The voice sounded familiar. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was certain he’d heard it before. “How do you know my father’s not here? Why did you pull me in here?”
“We have no time for your questions. If you go any further, you walk into certain death.”
“Who are you?”
“A good Samaritan.”
“What is this place?”
“Quiet! They’re coming.”
The flashlight clicked off and Jordie heard the deep voice in the hallway. “…occhi.” In his ear, the man with the flashlight continued narrating.
“He’s saying they need more eyes. They always need more eyes.”
“They need eyes? For what?”
“It doesn’t matter. As soon as the coast is clear, you have to get out and avoid the dark little man if you see him again. Whatever you do, don’t come back.”
“I have a shove…”
“Shhhh!”
Jordie sucked in his breath. He knew the voice. He’d heard it a million times, saying the mission was scrubbed. It was a grittier, cracked version of the voice on the tape who called himself Tiger One. His father! He let go of the shovel handle and began reaching out in the darkness. “Dad!”
“Be quiet, I said. Don’t make me tell you again and I’m not your dad, mister.”
“Sorry, but it is! It is you, Captain Kit Danielson. I’m your son. Me, Jordie.”
“You are mistaken. I have no son.”
“Come on, dad, don’t you remember me?”
There was a long pause in the stillness, finally broke by a deep sigh. “Jordan. What are you doing here?”
“I came here for you.”
“I’m already gone, Jordan. You should have let the dead stay dead.”
“When I heard your voice on the tape, I knew you would still be alive. I knew you didn’t die in a crash.”
“What tape?”
“There’s so much to tell you, Dad. I hardly know where to start. I’ve been waiting…”
A hand clamped over his mouth again. “Shhhh!”
In the stillness, they heard footsteps down the hall.
“Shit. Too late.”
“What’s going on, Dad? What is this place?”
“You shouldn’t have come, Jordan. Give me that shovel. I’m going to try and hold them off while you make a break for it.”
“What? Why can’t we just…”
The deep voice sounded from the hallway.
“Greetings, my little spider. You have something of mine. Bring it to me.”
A hand grabbed Jordie’s in the darkness. “Come with me, Jordan. We’re not caught yet.”
Jordie tried not to trip over his feet as father and son ran in the dark. He stumbled more than once, but caught himself before his father pulled him over. The pace his father set was hard and unrelenting. In all of his fantasies of the various father-son reunions he’d envisioned, none of them ever approached anything like this. Running through the caves of some underground labyrinth under a city buried long ago by volcanic ash was not a possibility he’d ever considered. The joy of finding his father was rapidly being replaced by an expanding unease with every succeeding footfall. The laughter that followed their mad chase wasn’t helping things either.
Ruined Cities Page 28
