by Felice Arena
Antonio exhales and thirty minutes later he pulls up anchor and continues rowing further out to sea and towards the cave.
When he approaches the sea cave, Chris appears from out behind a shrub on the base of the path that leads up to the cliff. The tide is up and has completely covered the entrance to the grotto.
‘I was starting to think you weren’t coming,’ Chris says, as he limps down the path onto the rocks. He is holding onto a cloth sack – in it is the German radio Antonio has snatched.
Antonio glides up to Chris and helps him into the boat.
‘You’re sure this friend of your mum’s isn’t coming home soon?’ he asks.
Antonio nods, hoping it’s true. He’s already paddling back towards Signor Piccolo’s place. ‘Lie down flat on your back and keep out of sight,’ he says.
‘Aye, aye, captain,’ says Chris.
As they slowly drift back into the view of the German searchlight, Antonio stops rowing and casts his fishing line.
‘What are you doing?’ asks Chris.
‘They have me in their sights,’ Antonio says. ‘I have to look as if I’m actually fishing.’
Chris chuckles quietly. ‘Told ya, kid. You have the makings of a great spy.’
Antonio smiles but is startled by a voice coming out of the dark.
‘Signor Piccolo!’
Antonio swears under his breath. He pulls a tarpaulin out from under the seat and throws it over Chris. He hopes it will be enough. Another lamp is flickering in the night and it’s approaching quickly.
‘I thought you were going to Siracusa . . .’ A fisherman sitting in a rowboat similar to Signor Piccolo’s glides closer to Antonio. He trails off when he realises that Antonio isn’t who he expects to see.
‘Hey, who are you?’ he says aggressively. ‘What are you doing with Signor Piccolo’s boat?’
Antonio thinks fast. ‘I’m working for him,’ he lies. ‘He’s visiting family and said I can use his boat to make a bit of money for myself, so long as I give him a percentage from the fish I sell.’
‘Really?’ The fisherman glares at Antonio.
Antonio does his best to look calm.
‘Now I recognise you,’ the fisherman adds, catching a glimpse of Antonio as the searchlight pans across him. His voice is kinder now. ‘You’re Mamma Nina’s boy, aren’t you?’
Antonio nods.
‘The rota, right?’ he says bluntly.
Antonio sighs. He tries not to be offended. The man seems friendly now.
‘Well, you’re not going to catch anything here,’ the fisherman adds. ‘You need to go farther out. And next time bring some nets. You won’t catch much with a pole.’
‘Thanks,’ says Antonio. ‘I’ll do that tomorrow night.’
The fisherman continues on towards the shore.
Antonio exhales.
‘Smooth talking there,’ says Chris, sliding the tarpaulin back from his face. ‘I could hear your heart beating from here. I think you should stop pretending to fish and we should get going.’
Antonio agrees and starts rowing back towards Signor Piccolo’s place.
When they reach the beach that leads up to the villa, Antonio and Chris extinguish the lanterns. They crunch across the pebbles towards the house.
‘It’s out of sight of the road,’ Antonio says, as they step up to the front entrance.
‘Nice going,’ Chris says, opening the door. ‘I can’t tell you how great it’s going to be sleeping in a bed. I’ll sleep well tonight.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it!’ a voice snarls as the room is suddenly flooded with light.
Antonio recognises the Italian soldier Morelli, who is pointing his gun directly at them.
la resistenza
THE RESISTANCE
Chris reaches for his gun.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you!’ Morelli barks. ‘Put your hands on your head . . . both of you! NOW!’
Morelli snatches the pistol out of Chris’s hip holster. The gun is still pointed at his head. ‘And you!’ he growls to Antonio. ‘Do you have a knife?’
‘I don’t have anything on me,’ Antonio says, his pulse racing. ‘How did you . . .’
‘How did I what? Know that you were up to no good, you dirty little rota?’
‘Hey!’ Chris snaps.
‘You say one more thing and it will be your last word,’ Morelli hisses, drawing his gun closer to Chris. ‘Are you English? Or American? It doesn’t matter. Talk about catching fish – I’ve just caught myself a big one, a big slippery spy. I’m going to be promoted for this, that’s for sure!’
He turns to Antonio again. ‘The Germans alerted us that a field radio had been stolen. I got to thinking that it had been you who orchestrated the soccer game, but then you were nowhere to be seen. So today, I decided to tail you. And I’m so glad I did.’
Morelli takes out a flashlight and shoves Antonio and Chris outside. ‘Now move it!’ he orders.
Antonio’s mind is spinning. What will happen to us? Will we be shot when we’re handed over to the Nazis? How could I have been so careless as to allow Morelli to trail me?
When they reach the road, Antonio glances at Chris. He’s limping but he looks determined. Antonio’s heart beats furiously as Chris stumbles and falls to the ground.
Morelli immediately cocks his gun. ‘What are you doing? Get up.’
Chris groans in agony. ‘It’s my leg.’ He grimaces. ‘It’s seized up on me.’
‘Get up!’ Morelli snaps, shining his flashlight into Chris’s eyes. ‘Or I’ll shoot you here! And don’t you think of doing anything stupid, Rota! Help him back up.’
Antonio crouches down to help Chris. He knows this must be part of a plan. But what?
Does he want me to do something? To fight or run? Antonio decides it’s probably best to do nothing.
‘Can’t you see he’s in pain?’ he says to Morelli.
But Morelli doesn’t react. ‘If you don’t get up on the count of three, I will shoot.’ The soldier begins to count. ‘One!’
Chris doesn’t move. Antonio tries to read his expression. He’s not giving anything away.
‘Two!’
Antonio’s chest tightens.
Morelli looks surprised – he expected him to move. The soldier’s hand tenses around the trigger.
‘NO! NO! NO!’ Antonio cries, throwing himself in front of Chris. ‘You can’t shoot!’
‘Get out of the way, Rota,’ orders Morelli. ‘Or I will make sure that not only you but your mother will be arrested and . . .’
Suddenly Morelli crumples and falls, hitting the ground hard. The flashlight rolls away.
Confused, Antonio looks up to see a figure stepping out of the darkness.
il posto di controllo
THE CHECKPOINT
‘Quick! Help me get him back to the house.’ The voice is familiar, but Antonio can’t work out where he knows it from.
He reaches for the flashlight and holds it up. A woman is standing in front of them, holding a soldier’s truncheon. She’s wearing a bottle-green dress and her curly ginger hair is pinned under a headscarf. She collects the guns.
‘Resistance?’ asks Chris in Italian.
The woman nods.
They drag Morelli back to Signor Piccolo’s villa and Chris ties the Italian soldier’s hands and feet together.
‘I heard you behind us,’ says Chris, ‘but how did you know we were here?’
The woman glances back at Antonio.
‘Well,’ she says. ‘If it weren’t for your young friend here I wouldn’t have found you.’
‘Me?’ Antonio says.
‘Yes,’ adds the woman, moving to the front door and sounding out a sharp whistle. ‘Well, thanks to you and my daughter.’
A girl appears in the doorway. She’s grinning from ear to ear.
Even in the dark, Antonio can see it’s Simonetta. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he says, ‘but I should have known. You speak English. That should have b
een my first clue! Of course you’re with the Resistance.’
‘No,’ Simonetta’s mother interjects. ‘Simonetta is definitely not in the Resistance. And don’t put any silly ideas in her head. I confronted her about why some of my husband’s medical supplies had gone missing and when she finally confessed, I decided I should also make a confession.’
Simonetta smiles at her mother, who is standing by the window, keeping a watchful eye on the road.
‘I’m Lucia,’ adds Simonetta’s mother. ‘We’d had word that an allied plane had gone down further up the coast. When Simonetta told me this morning that you had stolen a German field radio . . .’
Chris holds up the cloth sack as if to say, ‘It’s in here.’
‘Well, it didn’t take much to realise that the two things were connected. So I followed you . . . and ended up trailing this soldier as well. It was clear he was after you.’
‘Two people were tailing you?’ Chris says, teasing Antonio. ‘What happened to you being invisible?’
Antonio shrugs, embarrassed. He’s annoyed – so much for having the makings of a good spy. He hopes there will be another chance to redeem himself.
‘Okay, our car is here. Let’s go!’ Lucia announces.
‘What about Morelli?’ Antonio asks, noticing that the Italian soldier is starting to moan and open his eyes. ‘Are you going to leave him here?’
‘No,’ says Lucia. ‘He didn’t see who I was, but he knows you two, and this might be a real problem for all of us. So our contacts will have to deal with him.’
Antonio is shocked by Simonetta’s mother’s harsh tone. ‘What do you mean?’ he says.
‘Kid, I wouldn’t . . .’ Chris cuts in, as if trying to protect Antonio from hearing the worst, which only makes him realise how naive his question is. But he wants to hear the answer – does she mean they will kill him?
‘He’s just doing his job!’ he protests. But he can’t forget that Morelli has threatened to shoot them both and has threatened Mamma Nina. They can’t just let him go.
Chris shakes his head. ‘Let them deal with it, kid,’ he says. ‘It’s not your concern.’
A four-door car has pulled up at the front. Chris, Antonio and Simonetta climb into the back seat. ‘This is my husband, Filippo,’ says Lucia, introducing the driver as they speed off.
Chris nods. ‘I’m Agent Cooper for the OSS, but call me Chris,’ he says. ‘Are you British?’
Lucia nods.
Antonio tenses and braces himself on the seat as the car starts accelerating.
‘Are you okay?’ Simonetta asks.
‘I’ve never been in a car before,’ Antonio says, feeling breathless.
‘Never?’ Simonetta repeats as the adults talk among themselves.
Antonio shakes his head.
‘Can you believe all this is happening?’ Simonetta says.
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Antonio says, his hands now gripping the back of the driver’s seat. ‘It feels as if I’m in a dream . . . I don’t know whether to be excited or afraid. How did your parents become, well, a part of all this?’
The adults are now silent, so Simonetta leans into Antonio and whispers.
‘They met when they were medical students in Bologna. They believe our country was wrong to side with the Germans – my mum says that’s why they joined the partigiani in the north. My father decided they would come back here, to his hometown, to help build the underground movement in the south.’
Antonio shakes his head. It’s hard to believe that just a few days ago he was nothing but a poor kid who’d never left his little town, who’d never even heard of the Resistance.
Simonetta puts her hand on his arm. ‘By the way, I’m sorry about what my nonno said about you in the piazza. He’s just old and he’s stuck in his silly ways. I don’t think he realises that it’s 1943 and that he’s got to move with the times. I don’t care where or how you were born. I think you’re amazing.’
After this compliment, Antonio momentarily forgets the thrill of his first car ride.
The car speeds through the night and approaches the outskirts of town.
The surrounding landscape is shrouded in darkness. Antonio has walked through it many times and knows they are driving past dusty, rugged farms. Only the lights from a few houses flicker in the distance.
Filippo slows the car and pulls over to the side of the road. He tells Chris that he will need to hide in the trunk. ‘We have to get past the checkpoint,’ he explains.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Chris says, hopping out of the car. ‘Don’t you think that’s the first place they’ll check?’
‘Trust me,’ replies Filippo, opening the small trunk and helping Chris squeeze into it. ‘I know the soldier who mans the checkpoint – he’s Italian. I’ve been through here so many times, he’s stopped searching my car. He’ll just wave me through as he always does.’
When they reach the entrance to the main corso of the town, the headlights light up the one-man booth that stands there. With a sense of dread, Antonio sees that it’s a German soldier who steps out and signals them to stop.
Simonetta’s father swears.
Lucia quickly turns to them in the back seat. ‘You two pretend to be asleep.’
Simonetta closes her eyes and drops her head onto Antonio’s shoulder. He can feel her silky hair against his neck – and it sends a tingly sensation down his spine. She smells like freshly squeezed oranges.
He closes his eyes as Simonetta’s father winds down the window to speak to the soldier.
‘Where have you come from?’ the German soldier asks in Italian.
‘Good evening. Agostino isn’t on duty tonight?’ says Filippo casually.
‘I said where have you come from?’ The German soldier is obviously not in the mood for small talk.
‘I’ve just made a house call. I’m the new doctor in town,’ says Filippo.
‘Why take the whole family?’ asks the soldier.
‘Oh, it wasn’t just any patient,’ Lucia says. ‘Our beloved cousin was unwell. And the children wanted to see him. But as you can see they’re exhausted – we really should get them home.’
There is a long, tense pause before the soldier responds. ‘Can you please get out and open the trunk for me?’
Antonio’s stomach churns. He can feel Simonetta’s heart beating faster. What are they going to do now? Has their luck run out? Has it really come down to something as simple as this? Antonio slowly opens his eyes as Simonetta’s father hops out of the car.
The German soldier shines his flashlight into the back seat of the car – directly onto Antonio. He brings his face close to the window.
Antonio swears under his breath. He suddenly recognises the German – it’s the young soldier who chased him to the il Diavolo cliff, the one who caught him drawing anti-German graffiti.
‘Hey!’ the young soldier says. ‘I know that boy!’
i burattinai
THE PUPPETEERS
‘Is this boy your son?’ the soldier asks.
Simonetta’s parents are caught off guard. Lucia turns to look at Antonio.
‘Yes, yes. He is,’ says Filippo slowly. ‘How do you know him?’
Antonio winds down his window. ‘Heil Hitler!’ he says, pulling a face as if to say, ‘Fancy seeing you again!’
The soldier tells Filippo about Antonio’s offensive drawings of the Führer and il Duce – and of his incredible jump off il Diavolo.
‘I couldn’t believe it,’ adds the soldier. ‘I assumed no one could survive a leap like that.’
It dawns on Antonio that this unexpected reunion might help to distract the soldier from the trunk. ‘Well, I might not survive my father, now you’ve told him. Thanks very much!’ he says boldly. ‘You know I’m in huge trouble now, right?’
Simonetta’s mother immediately realises what Antonio is up to.
‘I’m so sorry, Corporal!’ she says, noticing the soldier’s ranking on his uniform
. ‘We didn’t know. Offensive drawings, you say? I’m outraged!’
‘Son, what were you thinking?’ says Filippo. ‘What have you got to say to Corporal . . .?’
‘Schneider,’ says the soldier. ‘It’s Corporal Schneider.’
This time, Antonio can bring himself to apologise. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, trying to sound sincere.
‘What’s going on?’ groans Simonetta sleepily, pretending to wake up and getting into the act. ‘What’s my stupido brother done now?’
Antonio shoots Simonetta a look. Stupido? Really?
‘As a part of your punishment, I think you should offer to polish the Corporal’s boots,’ says Simonetta’s mother.
‘Okay,’ sighs Antonio, opening the car door.
‘No, not now,’ says Corporal Schneider as another car pulls up behind them. ‘Not now. But come back tomorrow – I’ll have plenty of boots for you to shine. I tried to tell him – we Germans and you Italians, we’re on the same side.’
‘That we are, sir,’ says Filippo, getting back behind the wheel. ‘That we are.’
The Corporal seems to have forgotten about opening the trunk. He waves them on and directs the next car to roll up beside him.
Lucia sighs as they drive off. ‘That was too close for comfort.’
‘Did you really jump off a cliff?’ Simonetta asks Antonio, as her father drives them through the back streets of town.
Antonio nods. A little embarrassed now. ‘I didn’t want to apologise to him. And I thought he was going to shoot me.’
The car pulls up alongside a small rundown theatre on a little piazza. Antonio recognises it immediately. When he was younger he’d often sneak in to watch puppet shows here. One of the side doors swings open and a beefy bald man gestures for them to step in.
Simonetta’s father helps Chris out of the trunk and Lucia takes the cloth sack carrying the German field radio.
The man hurries them through the door and leads them through a labyrinth of corridors. Another door opens onto the backstage of the theatre.
As the man shakes Chris’s hand, two other figures step out from the shadows of the wings. Antonio is startled.
‘This is American agent Chris Cooper,’ Filippo tells them.
