The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 24

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

While waiting for Carlo and Chiara to return with the villagers, and taking some time to consider the plan that had almost formed in my mind, I went back to my room, which, I was guessing was once used for wine storage, because now that I had taken a moment to stop and consider my surroundings, I could smell the aroma of spilled wine.

With a little more light, I could see the arches within which the bottles would be stacked. I’d also noticed while I’d been outside, that there were vines everywhere, albeit in bad shape as the people who tended them had either left, or been taken away, or shot.

Red grapes if I was not mistaken, though I had no idea what the variety might be.

If the war dragged on much longer, it would do a lot of damage to the wine-growing districts, and I doubted, when the Germans were here, they had any interest in tending the vines, but just drink the wine, and then probably not with the appreciation it deserved.

That had certainly been the case up at the castle before fate turned against me. Perhaps that was where all of the wine from this cellar had been taken for safekeeping, once the locals thought the Germans had gone forever. Maybe that was the reason why Leonardo spent so much of his time at the castle, the free wine.

Jack had returned from what I assumed was an inspection of our new quarters and was sitting on the ground next to me. I wondered what he made of everything he had seen. It was certainly not a dog’s life being caught in the middle of a war.

“It’s a fine mess we’re in,” I said to him, and he looked back with uncomprehending eyes. I would have to brush up on my German. Or maybe Italian. It only just occurred to me that he was probably someone’s dog from around here. We’d only run into each other a few miles away.

“Yes, and I’m sure if you spoke English you could tell me a thing or two. But, alas, you can’t, so a piece of advice. Try to keep out of trouble, and by that, next time I go out, you might want to stay here.”

I shrugged. Things must be bad; I’m talking to a dog.

Martina stopped outside the entrance. “I heard voices. Who are you talking to?”

“The dog. He’s the only one who’s making any sense at the moment.”

“Are you sure he’s not a German spy. Or, in fact, it’s a he?”

“You probably know as much as I do. Anything happening?”

“Carlo’s back with a dozen or so of those who want to stay alive. Chiara has a few more. The rest have other places to hide if they need to. We’ve told them to expect a raid. Leonardo and a few of his men have been out looking for you and told everyone that you are a German spy and that he’ll pay them a lot of money for information about where you are or who’s hiding you. He doesn’t understand everyone hates him, they always have.”

“Good to know if I run into him, he won’t be happy to see me.”

“This plan of yours?”

“Wallace will be getting edgy about the men he sent out, those men we ambushed at Chiara’s place. It depends on who he sends, and where they go, but I was thinking we could prepare another ambush at Chiara’s. All we have to do is wait because I’m sure they’ll get there eventually.”

“And if I know Leonardo, he’ll send them straight to my farm. He knows that both Carlo and I, and the other two you’ve met were the other four who refused to join him in going up to the castle to make peace. It seems he’s made a bad choice.”

“Wallace didn’t. He needs someone like Leonardo to find us. You’re probably right. I was thinking Carlo and I could go. No sense sending all of us, and if anything happens, there will be someone left to carry on.”

“You don’t sound too confident. You are a soldier, aren’t you?”

“In a manner of speaking. But I was not trained to be a commando, and not necessarily on the front line, or in this case behind enemy lines.”

“You’re not one of those rich kids whose father bought a commission, so you didn’t have to fight?”

Interesting the ideas foreigners had about elements of the army. I was not sure if that was done anymore, at least not in this war.

“I have poor parents, that is if they have survived the bombs falling on London. Refused to give in to Hitler’s aggression.”

I tried to convince them to go to the countryside, just to be safe, but one of the places they thought of going, had also been bombed, so as far as they were concerned, nowhere in England was safe.

“But yes, they did teach me how to shoot, and I know my way around several different types of gun.” My mind flicked to the sniper rifle and the damage that could do.

I’d be definitely taking that with me.

I saw her turn her head, and then heard the sound of new arrivals. Chiara had returned.

“Time’s up for planning.”

I told the dog to stay, but as usual, he ignored me. We went back into the main cavern where a dozen more people were settling in various places along one wall. They looked as though they’d packed for a reasonably long stay.

But what worried me was the way they looked at me. Those rumors Leonardo spread, I was hoping no one believed him. Above the sound of voices, I could hear Marina speaking to them in Italian, hopefully, to tell them I was not a threat.

I found Carlo.

“I have a small job to do. After our last exercise at Chiara’s my old commander will no doubt send someone down to the village to seek answers, and I’m hoping you’ll come with me so we can convince them of the error of their ways.”

He smiled. There was no mirth in it, and I knew I didn’t have to say anything more.

I saw movement coming from a group of people, and among them the boy I’d met earlier, Enrico. He had jumped up off the floor when he saw me and came over.

“What are we going to do now. I mean, we’re not going to sit here and do nothing.”

Boyish enthusiasm. He had not been shot at yet, and to him, it was all a bit of a game. I remembered back to the start of the war, and the number of boys who lied about their age, hardly waiting for the war to be declared. They had no idea what a real war was, and if they had known, they would not have been so recklessly enthusiastic.

“You’re going to stay here and protect your family and all the others here.”

“No. I want to be useful, fight the bastards.”

Carlo gave him one of his dark stares. “You will stay here and help others if anything goes wrong. Out there,” he pointed towards the entrance, “out there, if you’re not careful, you will die.”

Martina had seen him talking to us and came over.

“Enrico, we’ve talked about this. Go back to your family.”

A last pleading look in case we changed our minds, then he reluctantly returned to his group.

Carlo handed me the sniper rifle and a pistol, a luger, probably captured from a German earlier, when they were in occupation.

“Good luck,” Martina said.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 32

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

The Ormiston’s from the papers

…

The Ormiston story and that of the thousand or so acres between the sea and the mountains are now known as Patterson’s reach, but once called The Grove, began in 1865 when the original Henrich Ormiston arrived from Germany.

Originally intending to go to Australia to grow grapes in South Australia, instead, his fate turned West to the Americas, and, eventually, this part of Florida. He started out with the intention of growing grapes, but when that failed to materialize, he moved on to Oranges, hence the name, The Grove.

He had married before leaving Germany and had two children, Marta and Gunter before leaving, and Friedrich after he arrived in 1866. That Friedrich died, according to the gravestone, in 1924. Neither Marta nor Gunter stayed, leaving Friedrich to carry on the business, have an only child which he named after his father, Heinrich, born in 1899 and who died in 1976. He in turn had a single son, which he named Friedrich, the infamous person with who Boggs father had a tempestuous business relationship.

Friedrich was born in 1932, during the depression, and it was about that time that the notion there might be buried treasure, somewhere along that coastal area of Florida, floated by a university professor, Emil Stravinsky, who specialized in old pirates. He had published a book that basically speculated where treasure might be found, and one of those areas was right smack bang in the middle of The Grove.

This information was plucked from the paper’s births, death, and marriages column around the specified dates, the death notices giving some light on the respective Ormiston’s life and toils on their land.

Heinrich, Friedrich’s father, fell for the story hook line and sinker, and with a promise to share the proceeds of an estimated multimillion-dollar trove, invested a fair chunk of the savings he’d amassed over the years in the first of many treasure hunts. The name Stravinsky rang a bell in my head.

A quick look forward to the most recent editions showed it was the man who had died on Rico’s boat, who was, in fact, a third-generation relative of the original professor, an archaeologist in his own right, and digging a bit further into the story, the paper had published a dozen or so extracts from the professor’s book, hinting their subject matter had been derived from a particular pirate’s log, and from notes made over the years of research by the professor. It sounded like there was a diary.

I was going to have to find a copy of the professor’s book, which, if it had been published nearly 90 years ago, would now be out of print.

When the father, Heinrich had failed to locate the treasure, the son Friedrich continued the search, only he put more time and effort into more meticulous research rather than take the professor’s word of its whereabouts.

This was about the time Boggs’s father came into the picture.

He had lived and worked in the Caribbean and discovered quite by chance when a storm had blown his boat way off course on a weekend sailing run, the ruins of an encampment and hidden inlet on an uninhabited island where he believed the pirate had operated from.

While waiting to be rescued, the storm had damaged his boat, he took the time to explore, and although he hadn’t told anyone at the time of his rescue, he had discovered a box buried near where a building had once stood containing a map, several coins, a sextant, and a flag. The news of those discoveries came some years later when it was revealed he’s struck a deal with Ormiston to renew the search for the treasure.

When the result of that expedition came to nothing, each of the partners blamed the other for the lack of success, with Ormiston all but telling anyone who would listen that Boggs had created the map himself for the purpose of extorting money under false pretenses.

Boggs then had to produce the map, where it was authenticated as a map that had been created at the time of the pirate’s reign, but no one could say whether it was just an invention of someone at the time, or it was real. The fact nothing was found suggested the latter, and it marked to start of the feud between Boggs and Ormiston.

The question in my mind was whether Boggs had that particular map, and had he shown it briefly to me? Certainly, one of the maps he had was quite old, but there were so many variations, and they all looked equally as old, it was hard to tell.

One point I was quite certain on, none of the maps I’d seen showed the treasure’s final resting place as being in a cave, and I got the impression just before when I’d run into Boggs, that it was exactly where he was going.

Had that been the clue his father had referred to? Even with the so-called original map, if it showed the treasure hidden in a cave why did Boggs need Ormiston’s help?

Had Ormiston known that might be the final resting place of the treasure?

I would soon find out. My next stop was the library.

…

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 23

And, so, it continues…

Wallace wasn’t the most patient of men, and after planning what seemed, to him, as the easiest of operations, was beginning to think otherwise.

First of all, he had underestimated Atherton. It was part of the plan to have London send him out, having, himself raised suspicions about the allegiances of the men who were in the castle. They were, of course, British, but only he knew of their allegiance to the Reich. That’s why he’s organized for Johannsson to be sent, and then for Jackerby to ‘stage’ a battle to consolidate London’s impression that it was being held by them, for the express purpose of repatriating defectors the allies.

Nothing, of course, could be further than the truth. Since their arrival, only a few had been processed, just to keep London’s suspicions at bay, but the truth was, about a dozen more had been repatriated back to the Reich.

Wallace had ordered Johansson to make sure Atherton never made it to the castle, and Johansson, in turn, had given the responsibility to the resistance members, to take care of the problem, telling them Atherton was suspected of being a German spy.

Getting the local resistance on side proved to be a good idea, as it was they whom the defectors were expecting to meet when they arrive in the village. And, as far as he was aware, Leonardo and his men had no idea who they were really working with.

Not that it would matter for much longer. All he had to do was collect the Reich Marshall, and then he and his men were to escort him back to Germany. He had the Fuhrers signed orders in his pocket.

There was only one wrinkle in the carefully planned operation. The man who could recognize the defector was missing.

And, then a second wrinkle, the men he sent to find the lovesick fool were taking a long time to find a single man, though he was beginning to think there was something else going on, something that Leonardo hadn’t told him.

Johansson had said he didn’t believe all of the resistance members had signed on, even though Leonardo had told him they had. Otherwise, how could Atherton disappear? It was not likely that any of the villagers would harbor any soldier whatever side he said he was on.

It was time to find out what Leonardo hadn’t told them.

He had sent Jackerby to fetch the man. That was something else he didn’t quite understand. Why were Leonardo and his men staying at the castle? Didn’t they have homes in the village? And didn’t they want to keep at arms’ length from whoever was running the castle in order to display neutrality?

Johansson had also told him he thought Leonardo was not the smart sort of person it would take to run a resistance operation, and that he believed there were some others still in the village who were once members, and who could also become a problem. One of the reasons why Leonardo was at the castle was the fact he reported the radio provided by London had become inoperable, and the only other one was now at the castle, his main reason for being there.

He heard Leonardo long before he saw him. A large bear-shaped man with a booming voice, a man who liked his wine in vast quantities, and had no qualms about emptying the cellar of the castle at any opportunity. This late in the day, there would be fewer bottles.

Jackerby came into the room first, followed by Leonardo.

“You want me to stay?” Jackerby asked.

“By the door.”

Leonardo stopped by the table and then leaned on it. “What this about?”

It was hardly a conciliatory tone, but Wallace ignored it.

“You tell me that all of the resistance members are here, but that’s not quite the truth is it?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Belligerent, too, Wallace thought, but that would be the wine talking.

“I could have you shot, so I suggest you use a more respectful tone. You heard the question, now I want an answer.”

To emphasize the point, he took out his handgun and put it on the table where Leonardo could see it. He could see Leonardo look at it, then back at him.

“Some of them didn’t have the stomach for it. When you arrived here, most of us realized the fight was over. Only I could see how we could be useful to our allies.”

“How many didn’t, as you say, have the stomach for it?”

“Three or four. Women and a gardener, nothing that would cause anyone a problem.”

Nothing that would cause anyone a problem. Johansson was right, the man was a fool.

“Well, it seems they are a problem, and you are going to fix it for me. We don’t need problems, Leonardo.”

“I don’t understand. They were on our side.”

“Seems they are not any longer. We are expecting a high-value defector, and it seems that the Germans have recruited them to foil our operation.”

“The Germans? There are no Germans here.”

“It seems I was mistaken about Atherton’s allegiance. It appears he’s working with the Germans and is now actively working with those women and the gardener and causing us problems. We’ve lost a man, and the three others we sent after him are overdue coming back. I need you to go down to the village and find out what’s going on.”

“Isn’t that your job. You have the soldiers and the guns.”

“We have orders to stay in the castle and wait for the defector to arrive. That leaves you and your men. Besides, you should be able to move more freely and unsuspected among your own people, and therefore make it easier than it would be for us to find this Atherton. And when you find him, I want you to bring him to me alive. Am I clear?”

It was clear to Wallace but it was not clear to Leonardo, he would do as he was told. Or perhaps he should shoot him as an example to the next man, who no doubt would do his bidding.

“Yes.”

“Now would be a good time to get going, don’t you think?”

Leonardo was going to say something to him, Wallace could almost see the cogs turning in his head, but in the end, shrugged.

“Is there a reward for this Atherton then?”

Wallace nodded. “Just bring him to me alive, and we’ll discuss it then, but I’m sure something can be arranged.” He should have guessed Leonardo’s measured reluctance was all in aid of putting a price on Atherton’s head.

When they finally left the castle, he would make sure Leonardo got what he deserved.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 31

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

Was she insinuating that Alex Benderby killed Jacob Stravinsky?

“Alex is a bully but he’s not a murderer,” I said, and wondering, at the same time, if he had finally graduated to a full-blown bad guy.

“He wouldn’t do it. Like his old man, they get others to do their dirty work. I’m sure the significance of Alex being out on his father’s boat was not lost on you. You asked the questions, and now that I’ve thought about it, it’s possible those divers could have planted the body on Rico’s boat.”

It’s one thing to come up with theories, but it was entirely another to suddenly realize they might be true. Until this point, I was happy to let Boggs have his dream that one day we might uncover a treasure trove, thinking that it was more fiction than the truth. It made a good story, one of hope for a person who had had very little of it in the past.

Now, it was becoming horribly true. What might amount to proof there might be treasure buried somewhere along this coast, an expert being interrogated and then killed, and a pair of what could only be described as gangsters about to start fighting over the spoils and not afraid of killing anyone who got in their way, these were omens, omens not to be ignored.

“Then don’t you think this is far too dangerous to get involved in? Look what happened to Boggs and I. We got off lightly if what you say is true. I’m surprised if this Stravinsky is dead, then why isn’t Boggs? He had the map, there’s no doubt Vice would assume he had made a copy. What to stop him from doing the same to Boggs and Benderby did for Stravinsky?”

“Vince is not a clever as Alex. Vince will never take over the Cossatino clan. Alex, on the other hand, is the next generation of Benderby thugs. But I suspect the older Benderby doesn’t know what’s going on. Not yet anyway.”

My bottle of beer was empty. Now I think I needed something stronger. A lot stronger.

There was a knock on the door, which caught us both by surprise.

Are you expecting anyone?” I asked, and in the next second suspected it might be Vince, and I’d been led down the garden path to a place where I really didn’t want to be.

“No.” She went over to the door and peered through the peephole.

“Damn,” she muttered.

Another, more demanding, knock.

She turned to look at me, “It’s Vince and my father. I didn’t ask them to come here, and no, I didn’t tell them anything, whatever you might be thinking.”

All I was thinking right then was the coincidence of their arrival and being very afraid.

She opened the door.

Vince barged in almost pushing the door into his sister and stopped when he saw me. At a more sedate speed, Giuliano Cossatino, Nadia’s father came into the room, and also stopped when he saw me.

There was no mistaking the malice on Vince’s face. Nadia was right. He was all muscle and no brain.

The older Cossatino spoke first. “I see you have a new friend, though I would have thought you’d have better taste in men.”

“Your days of telling me what I can do and not do were over the moment you sent me away.”

“And yet you come back, slinking about like a thief in the night. Your mother was most upset when you didn’t tell her.”

“The fact I have to, as you call it, slink back, should tell you a lot.”

“That you’re still the idiotic child you were before you went away.”

OK, now I was in the middle of a domestic family standoff. I was waiting for the order for Vince to throw me out, quite possibly over the balcony for good measure.

“I should leave,” I said standing, “and let you two work it out.”

Vince took another step forward and was now only two paces away. I’d have to go through him to leave.

“Stay,” Cossatino said. “I have nothing against you. Yet.”

“If you’re thinking this is anything but reminiscing about the old days, Mr Cossatino, then you’d be wrong. There’s nothing between your daughter and I but air. And,” mustering more bravado than I felt, “call your attack dog off.”

“Or what?”

“You don’t want to find out.” Where was this coming from? I was saying the words, but they were not my words.

“I hardly think…”

“That’s probably your biggest fault,” Nadia said, in a tone that suggested she was rapidly losing patience with her father.

It was clear to me now, she had a hard time of it as a child, not unlike the rest of us, but for different reasons. The bullying didn’t have to happen at school, but I could see why she had been like she was back then.

“You never gave me any attention except to treat e like garbage, no, worse than garbage. I can see nothing has changed.” Then she switched her attention to Vince. “And look at you, daddy’s little attack dog, as Sam says. I’d start worrying Vince, because one day someone’s going to beat the crap out of you, and then you’ll be nothing, just like me.”

Vince only had one expression, so it was difficult to tell if he was worried or not.

Back to her father, “Why are you here?”

I doubt anyone had spoken to him like Nadia just did, and he looked angry. If I hadn’t been there, I was not sure what would have happened to her.

“Your mother would like to see you.”

“You tell her to grow a backbone first, then when she does, I’ll think about it. Now get out of my room, or I’ll call the sheriff. At least he’s not in your back pocket.”

She picked up her phone and made ready to call.

A flick of his head got Vince to back up to the door and open it.

“You will regret this, young lady.”

“And don’t you forget I know where the skeletons are buried, so I’d leave now before some of them start rattling.”

A look of suffused anger flashed across his face, and he took a step forward. I was not sure what to expect, but Nadia did take a step back. She knew what he was capable of.

“We need to talk. Don’t make me wait too long or there’ll be consequences.”

A glare at me, another for his daughter along with a shake of his head, then he left closing the door quietly after him.

I sat down before I fell down. Nadia visibly wilted.

“I’m sorry about that. You might have thought twice about threatening Vince. You know he’ll come after you now.”

“Let him. I always thought you were close to your father.”

“Daddy’s girl I was not. Daddy’s biggest disappointment, maybe.”

“You didn’t ask him to come?”

“No.”

“But he didn’t come here to ask you to visit your mother. It sounded like a last-minute invention.”

“It was. My real mother is dead, and my stepmother was the reason why I was sent away. Among other things. No. He was here to tell me to get closer to Alex. It means only one thing. This treasure hunt is about to get very, very ugly.”

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 22

Whilst I have always had a fascination in what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

When we arrived back at the underground site Martina was waiting, and it was clear she was extremely annoyed. Word, somehow, had filtered back of what just happened.

“Are you totally mad?” she snarled. “You know what’s going to happen now?”

I had a good idea but chose not to speak.

“They got what they deserved,” Carlo said. “They found the missing man that you left on the side of the road, by the way, and it was lucky we were there when they found him. Whether they believed it was an accident or not, they were heading to Chiara’s, and we had to do something about that.”

“And you didn’t think that might have consequences?”

I think all of us had considered what would happen as a result of what could only be described as an ambush. And, while I thought, as no doubt the others had also, it might lead to retribution killings, it might not. Wallace could not afford to be seen acting like the Germans, who certainly would have lined up a dozen villagers and shot them and might not do anything.

But, when he realised I was involved, and that the so-called remnants of the resistance could and were willing to cause him trouble, he would have to do something about it. Especially with a high-value defector coming his way.

“Wallace certainly can’t do anything about it, other than come and ask questions. He can’t afford to be seen acting as anything but a British officer.”

“But he could get Leonardo and his men to do it for him.”

“Surely he wouldn’t kill the same people he’s lived with all his life.”

“Leonardo’s allegiance’s go to anyone who hands him a free meal ticket. Until the so-called British arrived at the castle, it was fine to be the resistance because he was being paid handsomely for his help. When the Germans left the castle, he considered his job was over, and we all went our different ways, hoping the war was over for us. Of course, that was only wishful thinking. Even when the British turned up at the castle, with the express intention of capturing and repatriating to England any Germans who wanted to defect, his advice was to let them do what they want.”

“What changed?”

“The man in charge, Wallace you call him, sent out a message for those who had been in the resistance to come up to the castle to talk. Leonardo thought it might be an opportunity to get back on the payroll. Carlo and I and several others didn’t go. There they were told they would be paid for each defector they collected and brought to the castle.”

“Didn’t he think that might be a little suspicious since it was just as easy for Wallace to send his own people to collect them, and not have to pay anything?”

“Now that we know they are Germans masquerading as British, it makes sense. But Leonardo is little more than a fool and greedy. He doesn’t care who pays so long as they pay. I suspect he has no idea who he’s working for, or what happens to the people he collects. Anyone who opted out of the new arrangement seems to have disappeared.”

“Many?”

“Three that we know of. They’re probably locked in the dungeons with the others you saw there.”

“How come he hasn’t come after you?”

“Too much trouble, and possibly because it’s a fight he can’t necessarily win.”

“He might not have a choice now. Wallace is going to have to do something about us, simply because he can’t let the defectors fall into our hands, and especially now that we know that’s why he’s here.”

“Then if it’s a fight he’s looking for, then we’ll have to give him one.”

“On that, I just had a thought on how we might be able to even up the odds a little, but I have to give it a bit more thought.”

An idea came to me, one that might just work because I was counting on the fact Wallace would have to do something and depending on… “In the meantime, we have to do something about the rest of the villagers, just in case I’m wrong about Wallace. How many people are left in the village?”

“About twenty. All the rest scattered when the Germans came the first time, and half of those that remained were killed for one reason or another. The previous commander of the castle frequently lost it when any of us refused to co-operate.”

“Then send Carlo out to round them up and put them somewhere safe.”

“There are no safe places anymore,” Carlo said, “None that they don’t know about.”

“What about here?”

“It’s the only place we have left that no one knows about.”

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice.”

Martina was not happy. Her isolated resistance effort was steadily becoming a large-scale attack, not the sort of operation she had intended. But I don’t think it would have stayed that way for very long, given Carlo’s actions.

She turned to Carlo. “Go and round them up and bring them here.”

“And if they refuse?”

“Then we’ve done all we can for them. But tell them that it’s a distinct possibility they will die if they stay where they are. Take Chiara, and hurry. I doubt it will be very long before the castle finds out what happened to their men.”

Carlo and Chiara grabbed a weapon each and left. When they returned, it would be to formulate a plan to take down Wallace and the others at the castle, hopefully before the defector arrived.

That plan that was evolving in my mind didn’t exactly involve the villagers, but the three or four remaining members I was now working. Leonardo might not know of all of them, or even if he did, one of them would be Wallace’s first calling point. It just depended on who he sent.

And if I was a betting man, and if he knew that one of his men was ‘seeing’ Chiara, then that’s where they would go.

The only question to be asked at this point, would we be too late to take advantage of an opportunity to reduce the odds?

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 21

And, so, it continues…

Chiara knew the moment she told Martina that one of the Germans was dead, she would be in trouble. Not only from the resistance but from the British or whoever they were, up at the castle.

The man’s name was Eric Carmichael, and he was a nice man, more of a boy really, having not suffered the full effects of a front line. He wanted to, but the Gods, as he called them, were against it.

Now he was dead.

He had come to the farm, told she was not there and had left again. The pity of it, on any other occasion, nothing would have happened. Nobody went out at night, so no one knew of their association.

Of course, if he did tell her anything, which he hadn’t so far, she would pass it on to Martina. And, perhaps the only annoying thing about him was that he kept asking about the resistance as if it was still operational. It was one of the reasons who Martina kept her at arm’s length, so she had nothing useful to tell them if they took her in for questioning.

Now it was a matter of seeing if he had told anyone about this affair, and if he did, she would not be safe at the farm. It was why she was in hiding, waiting, and watching to see if anyone came.

Along with Carlo, and the new man, Atherton.

Not far from where the soldier’s body lay in the ditch, one that no one had yet found.

Until now.

A car was coming along the road quite fast, heading towards her farm. Atherton recognised it as one of the staff cars from the castle, and as it slowed to turn the corner, Atherton could see it contained three men, the driver, and the two men who had followed him down the stream.

Suddenly the car skidded to a stop. All three got out and went over to the ditch. The driver had seen the bicycle.

It was an interesting conversation.

“The fool looks like he run off the side of the road and into a tree, fell off and hit his dead on the rocks.”

It was the man who had set me free. I’d recognise him anywhere.

“Or maybe some ‘innocent bystander’ shoved a wrench in the wheel and he went over the handlebars.”

The big man turned to him. “You have a story that implicates every member of the enemy population, don’t you? Where’s the wrench?”

“They could have tossed it away or thrown it into the bushes.”

“The kid’s an idiot. He was out for some fun and had his mind everywhere but on the job. If she’s that tempting, maybe I’ll go and have a look in myself.”

The driver took a closer look, then suddenly bolted for the bushes and threw up. I’d expected more seasoned soldiers in the group of paratroopers, but maybe they were late recruits with only half the training, and barely out of school. He didn’t look all that old. Neither had the lad in the ditch.

The tall guy yelled out, “when you finish puking, get over here and help us get him into the car. Then we’ll meander down to this farm.”

Carlo knew a quicker way across the country to their farm. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what he was intending to do.

Three fewer Germans, three fewer problems.

I followed, trying to keep up.

“You got weapons hidden away?”

“Several rifles and a handgun.”

“It’ll do. When we get there, you say out of sight. Me and the new laddie here will take care of them.”

A look in my direction told me I’d just been recruited into the killing force. Exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid. I guess it was time to make a stand.

A few minutes later we were in the large shed out the rear of the farmhouse, retrieved the rifles, of which one was a sniper rifle, a rather interesting trophy, and not the sort of gun any soldier would leave lying around.

I was tempted to ask where she got but decided against it. I had an awful feeling the previous owner had met a gruesome if not a sticky end. Chiara was not just a pretty face.

“You know what to do with this thing?” Carlo said, holding it out in my direction.

“Vaguely, but I think I can manage.”

With it was a carton of shells, rather long and ugly and very deadly, even at long range. But this time, we were not that far from the target area so wind and external conditions would not be a factor.

Also, I was hoping the sight had been calibrated.

After getting a feel for the weapon I took up a position on top of some hay bales and could see through a large enough crack when I put the barrel, and stretching out, found a comfortable position, and aimed for the back door.

It was like putting out my hand and touching it. This was going to kick like a mule on the recoil, but I would only have time to worry about reloading for the next target. Then I realised the driver might be a problem, especially when the shooting started, so I swivelled around to the back end of the house where a vehicle might come, and, saw the blue, altered the sight, and then saw the car approaching slowly.

I was hoping it would remain in sight, so if anything happened, I would be able to pick him off. It would be all that much harder if he managed to try driving away.

I tracked the car to the point where it stopped, just pat the corner, with only the back half displayed in my sight.

Damn.

In the distance, we heard two car doors slam shut.

The driver was staying put.

Double damn.

A minute later we could hear pounding on the front door, then nothing. My guess, they kicked in the front door. There was no one at home, Chiara’s parents were away because they had no crops in the ground. Their problem was water, and the river was running low this year. Aside from the fact they were not going to feed the enemy soldiers who would simply take everything and give them nothing in return.

I heard rather than saw Carlo stiffen and resight the back door. His shots would be far more difficult than mine.

The tall man came out the back door, stood on the ground not far from the door, his head filling my scope.

“Now,” Carlo said softly.

A pull of the trigger and the man’s head exploded, at just the same time as the other man came out. A reload and another shot. I missed the head, winged him, and Carlo finished him off. Once shot at an impossible range.

Another reload, and swivel towards the car, now reversing, and making it very hard to see his face or body to get a clear shot. Back, around and driving off, in a panic. He’d heard the two shots.

“The fuel,” Carlo said, “shoot the fuel.”

I lined up where I thought the fuel tank was and squeezed the trigger.

Almost instantaneously the car exploded in a ball of fire. Just under my line of sight, Carlo was running. If the driver escaped…

I put the scope on Carli and then to the side. I saw him raise his gun and fire twice. The drive must have miraculously thrown clear of the car, only to find himself in Carlo’s sights.

Chiara had appeared behind me. “We have to go,” she said.

I picked up the gun and took it with me. It could come in handy later on.

Carlo was already heading back to the shortcut through the woods and we met him on the path about twenty yards along.

“That’s going to stir up a hornet’s nest,” he said.

More than that, I thought. Now Johannsson knew he had a real problem. There would be a price to pay for this exercise, and the villagers were the ones who would be paying it.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 29

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

“Where is he?” I asked, hardly disguising the annoyance in my tone.

“In the toilet.”

A minor relief, but what the hell was she doing in his room?

“You do know Vince is responsible for Boggs being attacked, and me too, by the way. There was no mistaking that thug even if he was hiding behind a balaclava.

“You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know already. And it might be my fault. I told him, no, he all but beat it out of me, about the map and Boggs, and you, and Alex.”

“So, I can expect to see Alex in here sometime soon?”

“No. The Benderby’s have their own private hospital. No one will get to hear about it, except maybe when there is the retaliation. This who map and treasure thing is about to get a whole lot more problematical.”

Boggs chose to return from the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. “How did you manage to get past the head of Gestapo, Nurse Jamieson?”

“I had an angel show me the way. How are you?”

“This is a hospital; how do you think I feel.”

The nurse was right, he looked worse than he was. The bruising was going to be very colourful in the coming days, before everything settled down.

“Vince?”

“Like I could tell who it was. Only Vince can sound like Vince even where he’s trying not to sound like Vince.”

“Did he get the map.”

“One of them, but not necessarily the right one, just a better one.”

Boggs got back onto the bed and lay back. I got the impression he was putting on a brave face for Nadia. But it didn’t explain why she was there.

“What are you doing here,” I asked, with just a shade less annoyance.

“I heard what Vince did and I cam to apologise. You were next,.” She said to me, “But, seriously guys, you were the masters of your own destinies with this map thing. You don’t even know if it’s real or just another of a host of hoaxes. Old man Cossatino reckons that Boggs’s dad created a lot of different variations, in the hope of selling them as the real thing. He was, after all, just a common con man, and not very good at it.”

The patriarch of the Cossatino’s the one she referred to as Old Man Cossatino, was Nadia’s grandfather, and although Nadia’s father was nominally in charge of the clan, everyone knew who the real leader was. And Old Man Cossatino was someone you didn’t cross, and that went for the Benderby’s too.

Boggs’s dad had worked for the Cossatino’s at one time, and it would not surprise me if it was Cossatino’s idea to create all the bogus maps, just to make money. I couldn’t see Boggs’s dad having the brains to mount a scheme such as Nadia described.

It surprised me that I had forgotten about that. Way back, when my father was still picking a side, he had said there’d been a rumour going around that a new map for the treasure had been found, and that both the Cossatino’s and the Benderby’s were in a bidding war for it, along with some other unsavoury characters.

And the rumour died as fast as it had risen, and not long after Boggs’s dad disappeared, later to turn up dead. One rumour, he had gone looking for the treasure, though no one proffered an answer as to how he might have come across the original map which he had, at one time, claimed, and another, Cossatino had him make it up, then killed him so he would never reveal the truth.

That original map had never seen the light of day, nor mentioned since.

It didn’t explain why Vince was on the warpath.

“What’s Vince up to? I thought you guys had the original map?”

She looked surprised. “First I’m hearing about it.”

I realised then she would have been as young as I was, and Boggs, which was about five or six. Precognitive memories. She might have been too young to remember. I only remembered it because my father had continually bagged Boggs’s father as a fool who should have got a real job and support his family, rather than let others do it for him, a veiled reference about the times Boggs stayed over and ate with us.

But it was not lost on Boggs.

“There’s any number of maps, yes. I found a lot of them in Dad’s stuff in the shed. I suspect those were the ones created for the Cossatino’s to sell privately, and I also think he double-crossed them and kept one particular map, the one he called ‘the map’ for himself, which may have been the original.”

That I was guessing, was the map Boggs had now. “And you’re telling me that’s the one you said you found, and…”

“I still have it. Vince has one of the half dozen that all seem to be slightly different, different enough from the original to keep him happy for a while.”

“What was the point of sending him to me?”

“I needed more time to figure out which variation to give him. I’m hoping now, if he thinks it’s the original, he’ll start looking for it. Save us a lot of time and effort if he does the groundwork. And I’m sorry about what happened to you. If it’s any consolation, I knew he wouldn’t hurt you.”

It seemed to me, judging from the expression on Nadia’s face, that discussing the fact Vince didn’t have the right may prompt her to tell him. She was a Cossatino first, after all, and had for years toed the family line.

Maybe she’d changed, but I wish Boggs was not so trusting.

“That’s nonsense Boggs,” Nadia said. “My brother doesn’t go easy on anyone.”

“How did you get in here?”

No mistaking that voice of authority. The head of the hospital Gestapo had arrived. She glared at me. “You’d better leave before I call both the hospital security staff and the police.” Then she looked at Nadia, who was getting out of the seat. “You should know better.” Much kinder voice for Nadia, suggesting they were acquainted.

She probably helped old man Cossatino with his interrogations.

“Had you told me how Boggs was, I would not be here.” I’m not sure why I decided to take a stand with her.

“Don’t be impertinent. You can see how he is, now leave while I’m in a good mood.”

I’d hate to see her when she was in a bad mood.

“Tomorrow,” Boggs said. “I’m sure they’ll let me have visitors by then.”

I waved and left. Nadia stayed back for a moment, then joined me in the passage.

“What were you really doing here,” I asked her. “It’s bot as if you had any reason to visit Boggs, other than to cause trouble.”

“I came to apologise. My brother can be a moron sometimes.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

“No. And I want to keep it that way.”

“It’s Vince we’re talking about, or has he gone soft. From what I witness during our encounter, it seems he’s got worse.”

“Which is why I don’t want to see him. You want to come back to the room and have a few drinks. Maybe we could talk about old times, you know, trash Alex?”

“Sounds good to me.”

A nightcap with Nadia. I would never have thought that possible, even in my wildest dreams. Had she changed, or was she up to something?

Time would tell.