“Welcome, Terrizzi.” Comandante Terranova extended a hand, which Marco shook. He had large eyes that were a light brown, with a strong nose, full lips, and thick curly brown hair. His build was beefy, straining the buttons of his uniform, and his manner relaxed and benign, with an easy smile despite uneven front teeth.
“Please, Marco, sit down.” Buonacorso gestured to the fancy chairs across from the desk.
“Thank you.” Marco sat down, and so did Buonacorso and the others.
Buonacorso nodded. “Marco, I’ve been telling these gentlemen about the pride you feel in being Roman, as you expressed at your father’s bar. In addition, we have spoken with Captain Finestra of your Balilla unit, and he reports that you are extremely popular among your peers, and remarkably athletic. Does working for us interest you, Marco?”
“Yes, of course.” Marco felt honored simply that Buonacorso would speak to him in such a respectful way.
“That is, if you are qualified, Terrizzi,” Spada interjected, scowling. “I have had many, many aides in my time here. None has performed to my standards. Even those who do well in Balilla don’t take our doctrine as seriously as they should. You must know some of those.”
“Yes.” Marco was one of those, having joked his way through most of their paramilitary drills.
Buonacorso nodded. “As Comandante Spada points out, not everybody is up to snuff. I have no idea why we don’t attract more young men like you. Do you have any thoughts in that regard?”
Marco knew how he felt inside. “I think that we’re required to learn Fascist doctrine in school, so sometimes students consider it merely another assignment.”
“A good point. I’m sure that your father has inspired you, hasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Marco answered, though his father talked about cycling more than politics.
Spada interjected again, “This is platitudinous. Let’s see how much you really know, Terrizzi. Do you know the Decalogue?”
“I do.”
Spada folded his arms. “Recite it then.”
Marco didn’t hesitate. The Decalogue of the Young Fascist was a set of ten Fascist precepts modeled on the Ten Commandments, and he had memorized them from hearing them so many times, in school and at Balilla meetings. He began: “‘Number One. God and Fatherland. All other affections, all other duties come afterward. Number Two. He who is not ready to give body and soul to the Fatherland and to serve Il Duce without question does not deserve to wear the Black Shirt, as Fascism shuns lukewarm faith and half measures. Number Three . . .’” Marco continued until he had finished a perfect recitation.
Buonacorso smiled. “Bravo.”
Terranova nodded. “I agree.”
But Spada only narrowed his hooded eyes. “Hmph! Do those words mean anything to you, boy? Or are they merely something you regurgitate?”
“They mean everything to me.” Marco knew what they wanted to hear, and he realized that he could read people, even if he couldn’t read books. “I know how much Fascism has done for Italy, and in particular the interest it shows in young people like me. I think it’s important to understand that not everybody has a father like I do, one who will take the time to teach them, mold their mind, and build their character.”
Buonacorso nodded. “That’s quite right.”
Spada leaned over, frowning. “So what’s your point, boy?”
Marco swallowed hard. “My point is, Fascism can act as a father to such boys, so they grow into good Fascists. Our party can teach those boys how Fascism will build a stronger Italy, in the way that Il Duce is a father to our country.”
Buonacorso beamed. “Marco, I told them you were a remarkable young man, and you have proved it. Hasn’t he, gentlemen?”
“I agree.” Terranova grinned.
“Perhaps.” Spada curled his upper lip. “It’s up to you, Romano. He won’t be working for me, anyway. I’m on my way out.”
Buonacorso turned to Marco. “You have the job, son.”
“Thank you, so much.” Marco felt his chest expand, as if he had gotten good grades, for a change.
“You will come every day until school starts, then in the afternoons. You will run errands and the like, and accompany me as my assistant.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Marco sensed that a whole new world was opening up to him, one that mattered more than school. One in which he could succeed.
“Of course, you will be paid.”