Aldo was called Signor Silenzio, and their leader went by Uno, self-appointed and self-named. Aldo didn’t know anything about him, but surmised from Uno’s demeanor and vocabulary that he was an intellectual of privileged background. Uno was tall and lean, with thoughtful brown eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and his fine nose was set in a smooth face, with high cheekbones and small lips. His Italian was without dialect, though its inflection sometimes sounded Milanese to Aldo, who had heard a similar inflection from Milanese customers at the bar. It made Aldo feel geographically inferior to Uno, for snobs often said that Rome was only a Mediterranean city, but Milan was a European city.
“Ciao, Signor Silenzio.” Uno rose quickly, shaking his hand. The rest of the men joined in, greeting Aldo.
“Here, Signor Silenzio.” Uno’s wife, whom they called Silvia, smiled and passed him a bottle of wine. She was the only female in the anti-Fascist cell, and Aldo felt shy around her, as with most women, especially because she was pretty. She had on a purple frock of a fine cut, and her bright blue eyes and straight blond hair evinced a northern Italian heritage. Aldo assumed she was Milanese, too, but she said little and Uno did all the talking.
“Grazie.” Aldo sat down on the cold, hard floor of the crypt.
Uno remained standing, his face barely illuminated by the candlelight below and his shadow elongated on the crypt wall. “Now that we’re all here, I will begin by saying that this is our most important meeting yet. As you know, so far we have engaged only in acts of sabotage against the regime, printing and distributing leaflets to convince others of the merits of our cause, or damaging cars, supplies, and other equipment. However, I have come to regard these as vandalism and mischief, not amounting to anything. I have been making new plans. Tonight, I wish to announce them.”
“Yes, it was mischief at best!” Loud Mouth shouted, and Bug Eyes and the Tsar exchanged significant glances, then nodded. Aldo wasn’t sure he agreed with Uno, since he had distributed leaflets, and even that had unnerved him. He had risked arrest if caught, and his father would have killed him.
Uno paused. “Men, we are about to strengthen our resistance. We are ready to intensify our efforts. It is time to take the next step, one that executes our goal to free Italy from the tyranny of Fascism. I have decided to call it Operation First Strike.”
The men looked grave and shifted forward, and Aldo detected a dangerous undercurrent among them, one that he had been worried about for some time. He was the newest member of the cell, having been recruited by Broken Tooth after a chance meeting on the street, but he had begun to realize that Uno and many others were more militant in their views. Aldo took a swig of Chianti, hoping to allay his anxiety.
Uno straightened. “Now, I propose that we intensify our efforts. We know that the fascio, the local office of the Fascist party, is under the command of Comandante Spada. I have reason to believe that Spada has decided to retire, and there is talk of a retirement party for him. It is tentatively scheduled to be held at the Bella Donna restaurant around the corner from the Palazzo Braschi headquarters.”
Excitement ripped through the men, and Loud Mouth shouted, “How do you know all of this, Uno? Is the information reliable?”
“Yes, it is,” Uno answered, then frowned. “But I cannot divulge how I have learned it, for your own safety. Now, as I was saying, all of the top party brass will be at the retirement party, presenting us with an opportunity that we must seize. I propose we attack that night and take them all down at once.”
“Bravo!” Loud Mouth cheered, and the others erupted in agreement, a collective release of pressure, like a steam valve.
Aldo didn’t join them, and his gut clenched. Operation First Strike required murder, plain and simple. Murder was a mortal sin. He had never done anything remotely violent. He didn’t want to, and he didn’t know if he could. He took another swig of wine, but it didn’t help.
Uno quieted them, his expression darkening. “I know it seems like a long time from now, but it will take that much to prepare Operation First Strike. There are twenty-one of us, and by then I hope we will grow in number. We are more than up to the challenge, and I will reveal the details of my plan in due course. We will assign tasks, drill with weapons, and rehearse every particular. We will do everything possible to succeed and guard our own safety. Our goal is victory without the loss of even a single man. Do you agree, men?”
“Agree!” Loud Mouth shouted again, and everyone but Aldo joined in.