Forgive No More

by Seb Kirby

  I interrupted him. “Ernst’s The Attirement of the Bride. She told me it sums up her life.”

  He smiled. “Good! And what jewelry does she wear on her right hand?”

  “Nothing. She wears no rings on either hand.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  His questions continued until he had covered every detail of what I should have known if I had been truthful in what I’d said about my meeting with Zella. When he was finished he gave another smile. “So, James Blake, you are either who you say you are or you are one of the most well-briefed imposters I have had the misfortune to meet. However, I am pleased to say I believe the former.”

  I leaned back in the seat. “Glad I made it.”

  We talked about London and about Florence, now as two men who were beginning to trust each other, though I could not be sure he wasn’t still testing me.

  When we neared the halfway point of the journey, Ferrara pulled off at the Autogrill service stop at Torre Cerrano Ovest to refuel the Alfa Romeo and for coffee.

  I welcomed the break. If I didn’t call Manieri in the next half hour, he would have every reason to act on his threat of reporting me to Hendricks and the FBI. While Ferrara ordered panini and coffee, I made the excuse to go to the restroom from where I called Manieri.

  “It’s me. Reporting in as requested, Inspector.”

  He was business-like. “Signor Blake. A pleasure to hear from you. You left me with a question. I have an answer. There are eleven cases of twins who have disappeared in Florence in the last ten years under circumstances that warrant investigation.”

  “They were all women.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Tell me, Inspector, what was the outcome?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There were investigations, were the missing women found?”

  “Within the limits of our resources, the cases were investigated. I cannot tell you anything more.”

  “You mean they weren’t found?”

  “That is beginning to sound like criticism, Signor Blake. The investigations were not brought to a conclusion. Except in one case, the disappearance of your wife and her sister.”

  I swallowed hard. I knew I could not get drawn again into what had happened to Julia. “And tell me, Inspector, has the number of disappearances declined since Alfieri Lando died?”

  “On the contrary, Signor Blake, they have remained at the same level. Why would you expect it to be otherwise?”

  I chose not to answer. “Yet unresolved cases remain?”

  “It is possible they have resolved themselves. It is what often happens. People go missing every day. They start new lives. There is nothing to suggest that the law has been broken. If you are asking if we found bodies or evidence of foul play, the answer is no.”

  “But you don’t know what happened to them?”

  “As I told you, they slip out of sight in our system. There is nothing untoward in that.”

  I decided I wouldn’t get any more than this from him. I thanked him and ended the call.

  I felt that Inspector Manieri was satisfied I was keeping my side of the bargain. Yet time was not on my side. I was already eating into the seventy-two hours he said was the absolute limit on how far he could delay before reporting my whereabouts. And here I was in the middle of nowhere with a speed crazy academic of comparative religion. But there was no going back. I had to hope Zella DeFrancesco was right and Ferrara’s enthusiasm and knowledge held the key to understanding what lay behind what had happened to Julia.

  Chapter 40

  It was known all across the Baja that Johnny Riveriza wanted to move in on the territory controlled by the Soto cartel. El Romero claimed this was against the agreement made by the cartel owners down in Mexico City but that hadn’t stopped Rivenza. The result was predictable as El Romero defended his territory – killings too many to count, beheadings, the wiping out of whole families.

  Now Luiz Reyas and Miles were traveling to the Rivenza cartel base in Juarez to put their proposition to the man himself. Luiz was optimistic. “He will want to listen, I know.”

  They were driving through El Paso heading for State Highway 45, preparing to re-enter Mexico. It was not long before they were sighted as they passed through the desolate outskirts of Juarez. An agricultural wagon piled high with guava fruit stopped ahead of them while a brand-new SUV pulled up behind. Three men piled out carrying Uzis and threatened Luiz Reyas who was driving. They were searched for weapons and escorted to the hilltop ranch house where, in an air-conditioned room, Johnny Rivenza was waiting.

  He looked them over with contempt. “You should know, Senors, you are not welcome here.” He gave Luiz Reyas a penetrating look. “Why would someone from the Soto cartel presume to arrive here without an invitation?”

  Luiz held his nerve. “I don’t come here from El Romero. I come here for myself. There is no other way. What I have to tell you can only be told in person.”

  “Important enough to risk your life?”

  “Yes, Senor.”

  Rivenza stared at Miles. “And to do this you bring the gringo with you?”

  Miles spoke for the first time and decided there was no option but to be honest. “My name is Miles Blake, Senor Rivenza. I am a journalist.” What came next was a risk. But then the whole idea of bringing the proposition to Juarez was a risk. “I know about the explosive.”

  Rivenza was trying not to show how startled he was. “What explosive?”

  “The plastic explosive you sent to Austin. The material for the bombs that killed all those people at Town Lake.”

  Rivenza reached for his gun and signaled to the two guards standing behind Luiz and Miles. “Then you give us no choice but to kill you now.” He leveled the gun. “Give me one reason not to pull the trigger?”

  Miles fought to resist the fear engulfing him. “Kill us and you’ll never know about the key to unlock everything you wish for.”

  He lowered the gun a little. “So, what is this everything you dangle before me?”

  Miles pointed a thumb at the two guards behind him. “Not while they’re here.”

  “You expect me to agree to that?”

  “You have the gun.”

  Rivenza signaled the two men to leave. He raised the gun again. “So, tell me.”

  Luiz Reyas took over. “We have a proposition.”

  “To deliver to me everything I wish for?”

  “You give us a small gift. We give you the key to finishing El Romero. It is a straight trade.”

  “What kind of gift?”

  “A sample of the explosive you supplied for Town Lake. We return to Tijuana. You do not hear from us again.”

  Rivenza smiled. “And why would I do this?”

  “Because we tell the Americans that the explosive came from El Romero. The Federales will have no choice but to act once they know the part he played in the outrage.”

  He was not convinced. “You must take me for a fool, Senor. You leave here. I don’t see you again. You tell the Federales that I supplied the plastic and all along you have been working for El Romero.”

  “You have our word.”

  He laughed. “And you think that would ever be enough in a place like this where every truth is a lie. No, I do not need to take such a chance. I kill you now.”

  Luiz was not fazed. “We would not be here if we did not think we could convince you. Would any men come here as defenseless as we are if that was not the case? Give us the chance and we will tell you why we will keep our side of the bargain.”

  Rivenza agreed. He listened as Luiz told him the history of the Reyas family, how his mission since birth was to seek revenge for the wrongs that had been unresolved for so long. He told him about the killing of Luiz Reyas, his own father, in Austin. “Senor, you can see I have every reason to implicate El Romero. He is in partnership with the family that humiliated my forebears. He helped the Landos when they sent their man to Mexico, the man who killed my fat
her. I will do everything in my power to bring El Romero down. And when he falls, the Landos will fall and I will have achieved my life’s goal.”

  There was silence as Rivenza considered what he’d been told. “It is true that Luiz Reyas was killed. That much I know. But how do I know you are who you say you are, Senor? How do I know you have not just told me a clever story?”

  Luiz Reyas raised his hands. “May I, Senor?”

  Rivenza nodded. “I am watching every move.”

  “I have something to show you.” Luiz reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet that opened out to show photographs at the same age of himself, his father and his grandfather. “Tell me, Senor, that we are not all called Luiz Reyas?”

  The three men looked almost identical. Rivenza nodded. “I must believe you are who you say you are. But tell me, why are you with the Soto?”

  “It is nothing I wanted to choose. But to overcome evil, you must be close to evil.”

  Satisfied, Rivenza turned his gaze towards Miles. “And the gringo? Why is he here?”

  “He has his own reasons, just as strong as my own.”

  “Then let him talk.”

  Miles told how he’d been responsible for sending his brother’s wife, Julia, to Florence where she’d been abused by the Lando family. He spoke of the anguish of the past three years when he heard she’d been imprisoned and raped. “You see, Senor, I have every reason to see the pride of my family restored by bringing down the Lando family. There is nothing to be gained in implicating you in Town Lake and everything in implicating El Romero.”

  Johnny Rivenza thought long and hard, holding the gun on his captives the whole time. There were moments when the gun hand twitched that convinced Miles and Luiz he’d decided to kill them there and then. But as each moment passed, it became clear that what had been offered was too good to turn down. “I am convinced, Senors. Not just by what you say. More that you have risked your lives in coming to Juarez today. No man would do that unless he had a good reason.” He paused long enough to smile. “And, you are right, moving in on El Romero, taking over his business, is the everything you promised it to be.”

  He called his men in. They brought up the SUV for the ride to an outbuilding on the furthest reaches of the ranch. Inside, Rivenza prized open one of the dozen steel drums. “Plastic from Libya. From the time when you could get as much as you want, before the changes.” He scooped up a handful of the explosive. “This is the material supplied to the German in Austin.” He placed the sample in a linen bag and handed it to Luiz Reyas. “Use this well, Senor. If it does what you say, this will be a great day for us all. If not, I will find you and kill you.”

  Chapter 41

  When the journey resumed and we pulled back onto the Autostrada, I returned to our conversation. “Nico, so, can I take it we trust each other now?”

  He checked there were no speed cameras on the next stretch of road and powered the Alfa Romeo up to 140 km/hr. “I understand what you have been through, James. Forgive me for testing you. I had to be sure.”

  There was an awkward silence that I filled by asking him about his work. “Your card says comparative religion. That’s what you study at the university?”

  “Amongst friends, as now, James, I have to say it is a convenient title. It is what I teach. It is what I examine my students in. What I research is something different. I study myth, in particular the point where belief in myth leads certain people into secrecy.”

  “You mean secret societies?”

  “Yes. I’m interested in the point where people, sometimes clever, well-educated people, cross that line. It is why I am headed for Puglia. To carry on with that work.”

  He continued like any academic unable to conceal his enthusiasm for his work. “Stop me if I digress, James. My work shows it is not uncommon to discover those who have crossed the line and live out as truth what I call the logic of their madness. There is a price being paid day on day for this thing that makes us what we are – the most successful creature on this Earth. Somehow, we have won the battle to prevail over a world that in its nature was, is and will remain hostile to us. In our distant past we found the will to survive when life was short and the people around us died of famine and plague and natural disaster, the causes of which we could not know. Something fundamental in holding on to that will to survive remains within us all and reveals itself in the power of myth. Think of it as natural selection at the level of a psychology that, if we are not careful, can make any or all of us into crusaders and jihadists or torturers and fanatics in the name of what we believe. An inbuilt, inherited tendency. And sometimes that leads to the crossing of the line into the inner logic of a collective madness.”

  When I did not reply, he continued. “Don’t be shocked, James. You see, I study the extremes. Where myth strays over into madness, a madness most often hidden in secret societies where fellow travelers meet to feed their arrogance and desire for self-importance – matters that, in our weakest moments, make us all potential fodder for those who wish to exploit this fact of what we are, what we have become.”

  I struggled to find an adequate reply. “It’s hard to take much joy from that.”

  He smiled and cast a boyish glance around the interior of the Giulietta. “On the contrary, James. Nothing the crusaders or jihadists have to offer could lead to a world like this. I celebrate each day the freedom from these shadows of the past that allows us to live life as we choose and as we should. And I defend to the last the fragile crust of enlightenment that allows us to do it.”

  “So why are you telling me this, Nico?”

  He smiled again. “I think you know why. It is what I do. It is why Signora DeFrancesco sent you to me. And why I’m taking you to Puglia.”

  “You’re saying Alfieri Lando was more than a criminal, more than a sadist and a rapist?”

  “That is an assertion I do not have enough clear evidence for as yet. The early signs are clear but since the world he inhabited was so secretive, it may remain that way.”

  “Unless we can discover otherwise?”

  “Indeed. And you arrived at a fortunate time, James. The colleague I will be meeting in Ostuni, Arndt Schreiber, may help.”

  “You don’t know what Lando was involved with?”

  “No. But I can make a good guess at a general level.”

  He was in danger of losing me again. “It sounds academic.”

  “It is. Remember, it is what I do.”

  “So how does that help?”

  “Let me begin this way, James. This is a religious country. You will have seen the signs all around you. In the churches. In the festivals in which the people take pride in remembering the events of the past. And their religion is sometimes old. Older than you may think.”

  “Isn’t that what people come here for?”

  He smiled. “Yes. So, let me tell you about Greek and Roman religion. What it was like.”

  “Wasn’t it pagan?”

  “Yes, but that is a catchall phrase and does not say much.”

  He paused to consider what he would say next and then continued. “You mentioned twins. The ancient religions have a great deal to say about them.”

  I feared this was the start of one of his lectures but the feeling did not last long. Right from the start, what he had to say went to the heart of the problems facing me and my family.

  He told me about the twins who were the offspring of Leda.

  As he spoke, my thoughts went to the image of Michelangelo’s Leda and the Swan, sent to my phone by Julia as she was being abducted by Alfieri Lando. And I recalled what Zella DeFrancesco had told me in Venice.

  I needed to understand why everything happening to my family and those around us kept coming back to that painting and what it represented.

  I’d puzzled about the meaning of the painting and had asked all the right questions concerning Julia’s treatment at the hands of Lando. But now Ferrara began telling me about the symbolism of what h
appened after Leda had been seduced.

  “You see, the ancient myths told that Zeus disguised himself as a swan and seduced Leda on the same night she slept with her husband, Tyndareus. And that had consequences. Have you seen the painting of Leda and the Swan by Da Vinci?”

  I shook my head.

  “It shows Leda after she has given birth. Da Vinci shows her standing beside the swan. They are like two proud parents, looking down on their offspring, just hatched from two eggs. There is a set of twins emerging from each of the broken shells. There are girl twins, Helen and Clytemnestra, and boy twins, Castor and Pollux.

  “This is the important point, James. In each pair of twins, one is immortal, gaining their power from the god Zeus, and the other is mortal, blessed with this from their mortal father Tyndareus. Helen is immortal. Clytemnestra will have to die like every other human. They were worshipped as gods by Greece and by Rome, together with Zeus and Leda who produced them.”

  “And Castor and Pollux?”

  “They are also an immortal-mortal pair and are also worshiped. In the myths concerning them, Castor dies and Pollux offers to give up his immortality if his brother can live again. Zeus agrees and places them in the heavens as twin stars in the constellation Gemini.”

  I was working hard to keep up with him. “The Michelangelo shows the act of seduction while the Da Vinci shows the outcome. Two sets of twins. Each pair with one mortal, the other immortal?”

  “Yes. But the paintings show nothing more than what is recounted in the myth, as it was known in ancient Greece and Rome. The fact of the matter is that twins are everywhere in ancient mythology. Twins and the mortal-immortal duality run right through the religions of the world. There’s a strong parallel of Leda and the Swan in Hindu religion. Brahma, the creator and Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, produced the swan Hamsa which represents the union of opposites, the mortal-immortal. The Egyptians have Isis and Osiris. The Celts have their own discoursi. The Germans have Siegmund and Sieglinde.”

  “What does this mean?”

  “It is myth. It allows for as many interpretations as you care to make. It is nothing like our cause-and-effect take on meaning. Myth operates on the dark, subconscious level of who we only sometimes admit we are and things we do not understand, like why we must die. And at the same time it works on the level of statehood, why these people are living in this place and claim the right to call this place their own. And many other interpretations in between. It has truth value on many different levels all at the same time with no one meaning besting the others.”